‘You’re home early, Darling,’ said Margaret, extending her arms to give me a hug.
‘Well, I thought I’d surprise you.’ I kissed her. Margaret opened her mouth to let my tongue wrestle with hers, but wriggled out of my grip when I reached up under her blouse to unhook her bra.
‘Sorry, Mum’s here,’ she giggled. ‘You’ll just have to control yourself.’
Ever since Margaret had submitted to our good friend Lachlan the previous weekend, we’d been having terrific sex. The memory of that night was still fresh, so fresh that I found it hard to focus at work. The slightest lapse in concentration, and erotic images flooded my mind: Margaret stripping at Lachlan’s command, bent over while his fingers explored her vagina and anus, on her back on his and Pam’s bed with her ankles crossed behind his ears while he pounded into her, screaming in ecstasy as wave after wave of orgasm racked her body. And that had just been the start. I glanced down at my trouser fly to check my erection was not too obvious and followed Margaret through to the kitchen.
Jean, Margaret’s mother, was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar sipping a glass of white wine. Her eyes strayed to my crotch as I took the stool beside her, and she smiled knowingly.
‘Good afternoon, James.’ She tilted her head for me to kiss her, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue into mine as our lips met.
As those gentle readers who have been following our stories will know, there were few secrets between mother and daughter. Not only was our sex life and that of her parents increasingly open books, but we had also participated in theirs and they in our ours. Cosanguinamory sex between closely related consenting adults is illegal in Australia. We hadn’t completely crossed that line but had come close. Clarence, Margaret’s father had spanked and caned her while I watched; I had stripped and bound Margaret in Japanese bondage for their entertainment, and we had watched them make love before visiting a sex club. They had also read all of our stories on Literotica, after Margaret had sent them the link. As an adult, Margaret had become increasingly aware of her parents taste for kinky sex. A taste she now enthusiastically shared.
‘That was nice, dear,’ said Jean, as our mouths parted. By the flushed look on her face and the grin on Margaret’s, her exploits in Lachlan’s bed had obviously been the subject of their afternoon’s conversation.
‘Margaret’s been telling me all the wonderful details that you left out of the version you posted on Literotica. I can’t wait to tell Clarence. It’s going to be a long, hot, hard night. Thank you!’
Indeed! I had not written about many of the things that had happened that evening. Not of the sharing of her body, nor of the climaxing in her mouth or the anal sex. After we had each taken her individually, she had pleasured us simultaneously, using whichever of her hands, mouth or other openings were unoccupied. The only thing we had not attempted was double penetration, and not because Margaret was unwilling, but because Lachlan and I were too satiated to be able to attempt it. No, I had not written of those things, not because I was afraid that readers might find them unbelievable, but because I had difficulty believing them myself. Even Lachlan and Pam had sat unusually quiet over coffee afterwards. Lachlan had called me the following day to admit they were both awed by Margaret’s reaction. No woman of his experience, indulging in swinging and multi-partner sex for the first time, had ever behaved so enthusiastically as Margaret.
She had been equally surprised by her own behaviour, which was primarily why we had not yet discussed the full implications of what we had done. Were we both afraid that we had uncaged something within Margaret that threatened to overwhelm us? Was I the luckiest man in the world, or riding a tiger that would turn and devour me? Irrespective, the sex since that night had been incredible. With the memories still fresh in our heads we had fallen on each other daily, making love with an intensity that we had not felt since our first heady attempts at sex, but with the staying power and prolongation of experience and maturity. It was a second honeymoon that neither of us ever wanted to end.
‘Do you plan to go on wearing the slave collar?’ asked Jean, interrupting my erotic reverie.
Margaret fingered the stainless band that Lachlan had locked around her neck. ‘He returned my rings,’ she held up her left hand to display them, ‘but we haven’t discussed the collar yet.’
‘Perhaps he intends for you to keep wearing it,’ Jean chuckled. ‘You might have to get used to having two husbands. What would you think about that, James?’
‘We’ll just have to burn that bridge when we get there,’ I replied. Lachlan had no intention of making Margaret wear the slave collar, or of exercising any of the rights that it might imply. He had already given me the code for the combination lock. I could have removed it at any time, but I was enjoying fueling Margaret’s anxiety. Whatever misgivings she had, the thought that Lachlan might intend to repeat her submission of the previous Saturday was a powerful aphrodisiac — for both of us.
‘Well, if you’re going to wear slave jewelry, Margaret, I’ve got a present for you in the car.’ Jean handed me her keys. ‘There’s a box on the passenger seat. Thank you.’
The box was covered in red tooled leather and opened to reveal a series of compartments. Margaret gasped when she saw the contents.
‘Mum! Have you actually worn all of these?’
‘Of course, Darling. At various times I had both nipples pierced, as well as my clitoral hood and multiple piercings of my inner and outer labia. There are barbells and rings for them, all in gold and silver, and chains that your father used to link all the piercings together. There are locks for the labia rings… your father used to carry the key on a chain around his neck and unlock me for sex… and a longer length of chain for use as a lead. You’ll also find several engraved disks with his name on them, which he attached to the labia rings to denote my status as an owned submissive. I don’t wear them anymore. But we’d like you to have them.’
‘Dad wants me to wear those?’ There was a note of disbelief in Margaret’s voice.
‘Only if you and James decide that you’d like to. After reading about your slave fantasy, we thought you’d like to have them.’
As part of submitting to him, Lachlan had asked Margaret to relate several of her masturbation fantasies. In one of them she had described being the submissive wife of a man who had her pierced and ringed, and then chained her naked to the terrace of his house for his guests to enjoy.
Jean saw the shocked look on Margaret’s face and chuckled. ‘You’re not the only one who has such fantasies, Darling.’
‘But you…?’
‘Don’t look so shocked dear. Yes, we did. Just like Sir Stephen and the Commander do with O, although I usually wore just a plain face mask. And your father always waited until everyone else was finished before taking me himself. Not like your fantasy lover, though, who could only climax by masturbating.’
‘How many…?’ Margaret’s face had flushed pink, and her eyes were round.
‘Men? And women too. Lots. But sometimes I wasn’t the only one chained to the terrace. Anyway, I don’t think I should be giving away too many of my secrets. James will think I’m a sex maniac.’
‘I think it’s a bit late for that, Jean,’ I said winking at her. ‘I take it you’re not still pierced anywhere?’
‘What you mean is you didn’t see any when you all had a good gawk at me naked.’ Jean laughed. ‘No. They all grew over some years’ ago.’
‘Weren’t they painful? I mean when there done.’ I asked.
‘Surely they apply some sort of anesthetic,’ said Margaret.
‘No dear, we have to suffer for our art.’
‘You mean you had to suffer for Dad’s art.’
‘It’s not that bad, really. To be honest, having your nipples pierced is the most painful.’
‘What! Even more than… you know where,’ said Margaret.
‘Yes. The nipple’s thicker. The skin on the labia might be sensitive, but it’s very thin. The needles go through more easily. It all depends on your pain tolerance. For a woman, after experiencing childbirth, it’s not much worse than having a canula inserted.’
‘And afterwards?’ asked Margaret.
‘They take a while to heal. You won’t want to be suspending weights from them for a few months. But once they are healed, the fun you can have is amazing. A vertical barbell through the hood rubs against your clitoris. Makes life very interesting, and not just during sex. Honestly Margaret, I’d recommend giving it a go. Your father would love it if you wore some of the same jewelry I did, and maybe even one of his tags. James will want you to wear something personal of his, of course.’
‘Mmmm. I’m not sure. How is it done anyway? With a gun, like having your ears pierced?’
‘No, dear. It’s a special hollow needle. Once it’s pierced the skin, the end of the ring or the barbell is slotted into the blunt end and follows through as the needle is drawn through the hole. It’s done by hand.’
‘By a woman, of course.’
Jean laughed. ‘Don’t be so coy, Margaret. Having it done by a man is all part of the experience. Naked is better, too. He’s going to see and touch you anyway. I found the whole thing quite arousing. Helped with the pain as well.’ She checked her wristwatch. ‘Heavens, look at the time, Clarence will be waiting at the door. He’s promised me a spanking this evening.’
Jean slipped off her stool and gave Margaret a hug and a kiss. I escorted her out to her car.
‘Try and persuade her to get pierced, James. She’ll thank you for it once it’s done.’ She reached for my arm and drew me close. ‘Her father really would love to see her wear those rings of mine,’ she whispered. ‘Now, give a sexy senior citizen a kiss.’ Our mouths fused for the second time that afternoon and my penis responded with the beginnings of an erection. ‘You dodged me last time,’ she chuckled. ‘But I’m determined to have you eventually. You know that Margaret won’t mind, and Clarence… well you know him, he’s champing at the bit to see you take me.’
I waved her goodbye and waited until the car turned the corner out of sight. She had offered to have sex with me after she and Clarence had watched me bind Margaret into Japanese bondage. I wasn’t shocked by the idea, Jean was, even in her sixties, a very attractive woman. But it had seemed, and still did seem, to be a step too far. Instead, I had suggested to Clarence that they return the favour and put on a show for us. As a result, they had allowed us to watch them make love. That would not be the end of it. Clarence was obviously determined to draw us further into the games of dominance and control he played with Jean. No doubt he would enjoy seeing his adult daughter pierced with the rings and chains of an odalisque. I would enjoy it too. Now I just had to persuade Margaret.
I rejoined her in the kitchen, to find her examining the jewelry.
‘Changing your mind?’
‘I’ll think about. The idea’s exciting though.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s making me wet. God, just the idea of my mother wearing it all makes me wet. Everything makes me wet at the moment. By the way, Lachlan called earlier. He and Pam would like to come over for dinner on Saturday.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t know, he didn’t say.’
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘Ask what? Am I going to wear your collar for the rest of my life? Are you going to fuck me again like you did last week?’
‘I thought you enjoyed it.’
Margaret placed the jewelry back into its box, crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. ‘I think we need a drink.’ She poured two large glasses and took a hefty swig.
‘Did I enjoy it? Being stripped of all modesty, opened and probed for inspection and then subjected to the most intense fucking of my life?’ She shook her head again and smiled. ‘Yes. I did enjoy it. Maybe too much. And that bothers me.’
I opened my mouth to respond, but she held a finger to my lips.
‘No let me finish. I need to get this out into the open. I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I can see now how cunning evolution really is. We’re programmed we humans, to satisfy our basic needs for the primary purpose of passing on our genes. Evolution has programmed us for sex so that we can make babies and populate the planet.’ She took another large swig. ‘But you know what occurred to me while you were double teaming me? That evolution doesn’t give a damn about whose sperm actually does the fertilizing. There came a point where the fact that I was married to you, that I love you, that I have two beautiful children with you, just didn’t mean a damned thing. I was so aroused, so just… programmed for sex, that nothing else mattered. All I wanted was a cock inside me, any cock. I took you both, and if there’d been more cocks, if half-a-dozen more men had walked through the door, I’d have taken them too. And loved every fucking moment of it. How do you feel about that, eh? It frightens me, I can tell you. Or at least it frightens one part of me. There’s another woman inside who’s telling me that she enjoyed it so much that she wants to do it over and over again. If I give into her, I might spend the rest of my life surrounded by erect cocks. That’s not so bad, she tells me, you’ll have a ball. But what about falling pregnant, catching the clap and not caring for my loving husband, I say to her. So far, we haven’t reached consensus.’
She took another swig of wine and watched me over the rim of the glass.
‘From the sound of it, your parents have enjoyed that lifestyle for years, and it doesn’t seem to have had any ill effects on them,’ I said.
‘If you want me to be like my mother! She’s had sex with hundreds of men. Why don’t you just sleep with her. She wants you to and Dad won’t object.’
‘That’s what she just said, but that’s not what I meant. I’m not asking you to have sex with hundreds of men. I’m only making the point that perhaps it is possible to reconcile those conflicting voices. We’ve already pushed our boundaries and it hasn’t done us any harm. I’m happy to push them further, but only if you are.’
She fingered the slave collar. ‘So… you’re saying I should agree to whatever Lachlan wants tomorrow?’
‘Why don’t you wait and see what he wants.’ I grinned. I didn’t know what he wanted either, but I was looking forward to seeing his face when he saw that Margaret was still wearing the collar. ‘Look, wearing a slave collar doesn’t mean you’re his slave. I’m sure it’s all meant in fun. To be honest though, I’ve enjoyed your wearing it this week. The sex has been wonderful. I’d almost be disappointed if you took it off.’
Margaret’s deep, throaty chuckle was music to my ears. ‘It has been wonderful. Every time I see it or touch it, it reminds me of what we did. I can see the attraction. I know it’s totally ridiculous and bordering on misogyny, but the thought of submitting like that, to be available for sex or whatever and whenever Lachlan wants, is such an exciting fantasy.’ She reached for my hand. ‘Come on let’s go to bed. I don’t need any fantasy lovers when I’ve got the real thing.’ She tugged at the collar and chuckled again. ‘If you buy me a gold version of this, I’ll be your fantasy slave. I’ll let you have me pierced and wear all the nipple and labia jewelry too. I think I’ll look good decorated in gold rings and chains.’ She laughed. ‘You could hang bells on them at Christmas and I’d jingle as I walked about in the nude.’ She tugged at my hand. ‘Come on, you can send out for pizza later.’
The remainder of the week seemed to crawl by. When Saturday evening finally arrived, Margaret was pacing the lounge like a hungry lioness while we waited for Lachlan and Pam to show up.
‘Relax,’ I said, handing her a stiff gin and tonic. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘That’s what the other woman in my head is telling me. She keeps whispering all manner of filth about the nasty things you and Lachlan and going to do to me this evening. I’m having trouble keeping her caged.’ She smoothed a hand over her hair. ‘Do I look all right?’
‘You look lovely. Elegant, but very sexy. Now stop pacing and sit down. There’ll be here soon enough.’
Not wanting to give Lachlan the impression she was automatically going to play the submissive, Margaret had decided against wearing her corset and Roissy costume. Instead, she wore a blue satin cocktail dress with a plunging backline, a low-back black bra, matching panties and stockings. She was halfway through the gin and tonic when the doorbell rang and leapt to her feet like a scalded cat.
‘They’re here,’ she said, unnecessarily.
‘I’ll get the door.’
Lachlan greeted me with a strong handshake and Pam with a less than chaste kiss on the mouth. Lachlan was casually dressed in a blue striped oxford shirt, cream chinos and loafers. Pam looked mouthwatering in a pale green bodycon dress that accentuated every delectable curve, with no visible panty or bra lines.
They followed me into the lounge room, and I watched Lachlan’s eyes light up when he saw the stainless-steel slave collar still around Margaret’s neck. After she had kissed Pam, Lachlan pulled her close and wrapped his arms about her. ‘You look gorgeous, Margaret. May I kiss you?’
‘Of course, you may,’ said Margaret, tilting her head and puckering her lips.
Lachlan stroked her naked back as he kissed her. ‘I see you’re prepared for anything,’ he said, running the fingers of his other hand around the collar. ‘Why don’t we run a preparatory test. Are you wearing panties, Margaret?’
‘Er… yes.’
‘Well take them off and hand them to me. Here in front of us.’
Margaret’s laugh had a nervous edge. Bending, she reached up under the dress, slid her panties down over her knees and dropped them to the floor. Stepping out of them, she bobbed down to pick them up and handed them to a grinning Lachlan.
‘There now, that was easy.’ He raised the panties to his nose and took a deliberate sniff. ‘Mmmm. You do smell nice.’ He rubbed the delicate material against his cheek. ‘Damp too. You were naked last time for us Margaret. Might as well start as we mean to go on.’ He extended a hand. ‘Come on, let’s have the rest of your kit off.’
Margaret’s head dropped and she emitted a deep sigh. I thought she was about to refuse, but when she raised her head, her jaw was set with determination.
‘After what you both did to me last Saturday, I’ve nothing left to hide. I’ll be naked for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m up for a repeat of the entire performance. There’s also a dinner in the oven. You’ll at least have to let me wear an apron, so I don’t burn any sensitive bits.’ She reached down, grabbed the hem of her dress and started to raise it.
‘Stop! Stop!’ said Lachlan, breaking into laughter. ‘Sorry, Margaret. I’m just messing with you. Here.’ He reached for the collar and twirled the combination lock. It sprang open. Lachlan removed it and handed it to Pam to stow in her handbag.
‘You’re a helluva sport, Margaret, but we didn’t come expecting a repeat of last Saturday,’ he said, taking her hands in his. ‘There is something we want to ask you, but it can wait until after dinner.’ He raised Margaret’s hands to his lips and kissed them. ‘And don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to submit or wear the collar again.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’
‘But you did enjoy it, right?’ He winked at her.
‘Yes.’ She let go of his hands to fan her face. ‘Goodness Lachlan, you’ve made me blush. Whatever you think of me after what happened, I’m still not entirely comfortable being naked around other people, and I’m definitely not used to having sex with them. I’m not saying I’m uncomfortable with nudity per se, I’m not a prude, and the sex was wonderful, but…’
‘She’s been insatiable all week,’ I said. ‘If I buy her a gold collar, she’s promised to–‘
‘That’s enough,’ Margaret interrupted, sharply. ‘No need to reveal all our secrets. All I’m saying, Lachlan, and you pay attention too, James, is that I’m not ready for you to just assume that we can start where we left off. There was a lot to process after last week. I’m not sure yet how I feel about it all, but I’m happy to have the conversation.’ She led Lachlan into the dining room. The table was set for four. We took our places while Margaret disappeared into the kitchen. Despite her relief at not being asked to strip, she had not asked Lachlan for her panties back. He had slid them into his trouser pocket, perhaps hoping to keep them as a souvenir.
As I have often remarked in these pages, Margaret bears a reasonable resemblance to celebrity cook, Nigella Lawson, both in appearance and in the kitchen. In the bedroom? Who knows whether Nigella has ever partaken in a threesome, or allowed any of her husbands and lovers to spank her ample bottom? I do hope so. If not, and Margaret’s reaction is in anyway typical, she’s missing something delightful.
The meal that Margaret had prepared temporarily banished all thought of sex. It was our taste buds that were aroused and fulfilled by the caviar laced vichyssoise, beef daube and strawberries Romanoff. I decanted a bottle of my favourite Penfolds Bin 707, and then a second as the glasses emptied.
After we had helped Margaret clear away and stack the dishwasher, we retired to the lounge with coffee and petit fours. Margaret’s eyes were bright, and her cheeks slightly flushed from the wine. She tucked her legs beneath her as she dropped onto the Chesterfield beside me and flashed a smile at Pam.
‘So then, Pammy dear. What does your darling husband want to ask me?’
Pam returned the grin. ‘He’s a big boy, he can ask you himself.’
‘Well then, Lachlan. I’m all ears,’ said Margaret.
Lachlan took a mouthful of coffee and laid the cup down on a side table. ‘Well, if you don’t mind, either of you. I’d like to tell you about my first sexual experiences. Apart from the fact that it partly explains why Pam and I enjoy the lifestyle that we do, we both get a kick out of featuring in your Literotica blog, or whatever it is. Why should you have all the fun of making your sex life public?’
‘You could always write about them yourself,’ I laughed.
‘I couldn’t do half as good a job as you. What was it that Dutch chap wrote in his comments to one of your chapters. “Great characters, captivating scenarios, and fantastic sizzling dialogue”.’
‘He’s not Dutch, as far as I know he’s from the UK,’ I said. ‘And you should read some of his stories, “Magic Wanda,” for a start.’
‘Maybe I will. Anyway, Margaret, it’s your imagination that beats anything we’ve ever tried. I can’t promise it’ll be as arousing as the masturbation fantasies you told us about last Saturday, but this story’s true, and when you’ve heard it, you’ll be in a better position to judge how best to respond to our request. Okay then?’
‘Lay on, Macduff,’ said Margaret.
‘So,’ Lachlan began. ‘Over twenty years ago, when I was a student at Sydney University, I played rugby. I guess that’s not news. I played for years, that’s how I ended up looking like a battle-scarred version of the western front. It’s a tough game and provides plenty of employment for physiotherapists to repair the damage, and the aches and pains that are part and parcel of it. And that’s how I met Anne. Or at least I’ll call her Anne for the sake of the story. She wasn’t the team physio. I needed some extra treatment for muscle strain, all that pushing and shoving in the scrum, and someone recommended her to me. I made an appointment and off I went.
‘Her room was attached to the medical suite of a doctor. They shared the same reception and receptionist. Anne was waiting for me. She was quite a surprise, late thirties or early forties, handsome rather than pretty, and tall, nearly six-foot. Dressed in comfortable scrubs, it was impossible to judge what her figure was like, but the moment she laid hands on me I knew she had the strength of a navvy. She stretched and kneaded and twisted and pounded away at me so hard that I finally had to speak up and ask her to ease off. The hour flew by, and I felt so good afterwards that I made an immediate appointment for the following week.
‘And so it continued for several weeks. Anne was totally professional; I kept my underwear on, and she covered me with a towel while working her magic on my back and leg muscles. She also drew me out of my shell. You wouldn’t believe it now, but I was quite shy then. I spent most of the first session in silence, speaking only when Anne asked if what she was doing was okay, and then only replying with one or two-word answers. By the fourth or fifth visit, however, I was chatting away quite happily about my studies and rugby, of which she was a knowledgeable fan. I was feeling more relaxed and, being young and full of hormones, the inevitable occurred. As Anne worked on my hamstrings and glutes, I sprouted the beginnings of an erection. It was very obvious when I turned over. I blushed and felt terribly embarrassed, but nothing was said.
‘The following week, Anne announced that my glutes and abductors needed further attention. This time, however, she suggested I remove my jocks to avoid getting them covered in oil. She covered me with a towel of course, but worked so close to my groin that I was fully erect by the time she asked me to roll over. She couldn’t fail to see it as she shifted the towel, and I lay back with a circus tent over my midriff. Anne smiled and told me not to be embarrassed. Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one with the boner. But again, she ignored it, finished the massage as normal and sent me on my way. I went straight home and jerked off in the shower.’
He paused to finish the last of his coffee. ‘Any chance of a refill, Margaret.’ He waited while she nipped back into the kitchen to feed another capsule through the Nespresso machine.
‘I think you can guess where this is heading,’ he said, accepting the fresh cup. ‘When I called to make my next appointment, Anne said she was busy but that she would fit me in after hours. The reception was empty when I got there just after six pm, and Anne took me straight into her room. I stripped to my jocks, but Anne motioned with a finger for me to take them off and held out a towel. She gave my back the usual treatment, she really did have magic hands, then turned to my hamstrings and glutes.’
Lachlan laughed and took another mouthful of coffee. ‘You’re all nodding like it’s obvious. But it wasn’t obvious to me. I was still a virgin then. Girls my own age terrified me, and a mature woman like Anne, well she was an unknowable continent. I tried hard to ignore it, but she was again working so close to my groin that her fingertips occasionally grazed my balls or the base of my cock. So of course, when the time came to turn over, I had another enormous erection.
‘Anne held the towel, but I was terrified to roll over. I honestly thought she’d be angry that I couldn’t control myself. “Come on,” she said, finally. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s quite normal, and I’ve seen an erect man before.”
‘I rolled over and my boner waved about like flagpole in the wind. I expected Anne to cover me with the towel, but she didn’t. She just stared down at me. My face went beet red, and I had a desperate urge to cover myself with my hands. But when I moved them, Anne gently grasped my wrist. “There’s no need to cover up and you’ve nothing to ashamed of,” she said. “You’ve a beautiful body, Lachlan. I hope you don’t mind me saying that. A few scars here and there from all that scrummaging, but they only add to the rugged charm.” She paused and grinned. “And equipped like that, I bet you make your girlfriend very happy.”
‘That was another deep source of embarrassment, and she correctly interpreted my silence. “You don’t have a girlfriend, then?” she asked. I shook my head.
‘”Mmmm.” She released my hand and started to stroke my chest and stomach. “Well, I can treat that… stiffness… if you’d like?”
‘I still cringe to think that there was a split second when I almost refused. Perhaps if I had, my life would have been quite different. But shame quickly gave way to lust, and I nodded.
‘Having never been with a woman, I had no idea what to expect. I thought she might just grab me the way I grabbed myself when I masturbated, but she was far more subtle. She knew, of course, as I didn’t, that it wasn’t going to take much to make me climax. Instead, she teased me with her fingertips, lightly running them over my stomach and between my thighs and allowing them just the merest brush of my balls. It was blissful, but nothing to the jolts of pleasure when she began to gently rake her nails up and down my shaft. In the end, all she had to do was wrap her hand around me and squeeze gently.
‘Boys usually masturbate silently, afraid that someone will hear them. But I couldn’t help the animal grunts that accompanied each jet of sperm that splashed up my chest. I even felt warm spray on my face. My climax seemed to last forever, far better and longer than anything I’d achieved on my own. But as the spasms ended and my eyes focused again, I saw Anne grinning down at me and the shame returned.
‘”I’m… sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know it would… be so quick.”
‘She laughed softly. “Don’t be sorry. I enjoyed doing that. And there’s one sure thing about young men. They have wonderful powers of recovery.” She was still holding onto my cock. It had softened somewhat, but her fingers were already encouraging it back to hardness and there was a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Tell me something, Lachlan. And remember it’s rude to lie to a woman who’s just made you climax. Have you been with a girl before?”
‘She was right. I couldn’t very well lie to her, even though I’d have died before admitting in the locker room to being a virgin.
‘”Not for much longer,” she said.
‘I still had so much to learn about women and a rugby team’s locker room was not a good schoolroom. I’d bragged with the best of them, embellishing stories I’d read in Hustler and Penthouse, but when Anne lowered her head and took my cock in her mouth I froze with embarrassment. What would it taste like? It was still dripping sperm and it had been several hours since I’d showered. Would she be disgusted by me? I felt my erection soften again.
‘Anne stopped sucking me and looked into my eyes. “Ah, opening night jitters.” She stood up. “Don’t you move.” She kicked off her sneakers, pulled her blouse over her head, discarded her bra and slid her pants and underwear down in one quick shimmy. Dropping her hands to her sides, she faced me boldly. “Well, what do you think?”
‘I propped myself on my elbows for a better look. And what a look. Under those scrubs was the body of an athlete. There was hardly an ounce of fat on Anne’s ripped torso, her arms and legs were strongly muscled, and her six pack was almost as pronounced as mine. Her breasts were small and firm, but her buttocks were well developed. Her pussy was framed by a neatly trimmed bush. She let me stare at her for a while and then laughed. “I suppose it’s only fair,” she said. “I’ve been gazing at you for weeks. But you haven’t answered my question. What do you think?”
‘”You look magnificent, Anne,” I said.
‘”For an old boiler. You’re not the only one who goes to the gym.” She moved beside me and reached for my cock. “Now, let’s see if we can put some life back into him.” I lay back as her lips closed over my cock and surrendered to the feel of her tongue and mouth. Blow jobs were a popular topic of locker room banter. It seemed as if every wife and girlfriend spent more time on their knees sucking cock than doing anything else. I’d often masturbated imaging my cock in the mouth of the woman of my dreams, Sofia Vergara or Penelope Cruz. I’m not going to try and remember all the details, and I don’t have a way with words like you, James. But no one ever forgets their first blow job. Not that it was terribly long, Anne very quickly had me rock hard again but stopped well short of making me come again. Instead, she climbed up on the massage table astride me and lowered her pelvis until I felt her pussy resting lightly against my erection.
‘There was a brief moment when I wondered whether the table was designed for a combined weight approaching one hundred and seventy-five kilograms, or whether we’d come crashing onto the floor. Anne’s chuckle banished all fears. “Well, big boy,” she said. “Are you happy for me to take your virginity?”
‘Happy wasn’t the word for it. I was ecstatic and I grinned and nodded like an idiot. Anne slipped a hand between her legs, guided me into her opening and slowly lowered herself, centimeter by centimeter. That’s one thing I can still remember. The feeling of gradually penetrating a woman for the very first time. It still raises the hairs on the back of my neck. It’s all a bit of a blur after that. She rode me like a cowgirl and allowed me to me climax inside her when I came. When I had calmed down, she lay down on my chest, held my head in her hands and kissed me.
‘”Did you enjoy that?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. “It was wonderful, You’re wonderful.” I felt my softening penis slip from vagina and warm juices trickling down onto my thighs. “Er sorry, Anne, I should have asked this earlier. Should I have been wearing a condom?” She laughed. “Too late for that now. I’m on the pill so you can’t impregnate me. But you don’t know where I’ve been. You might catch something. How will you explain that to the doctor? Lost your virginity to a raddled old whore who left you with a dose of the clap.” She lowered her head and kissed me. “Sweet of you to ask, but don’t worry, I’m drug and disease free, a non-smoker and only an occasional drinker. There, that takes care of that.” She climbed off the table and reached for the towel. Our chests and bellies were both smeared with the residue of my first climax. She cleaned us up and wiped the juices off my thighs and from between her legs.
‘”Come on,” she said, extending a helping hand. “Time for you to get dressed and go home. I’ve got a bit of paperwork to finish.”
‘When I’d dressed, I pulled the wallet out of my pocket, intending to pay her as normal.
‘”What’s that for,” she said. “D’you think I’m a hooker. I didn’t fuck you for you to pay me.”
‘I blushed and blurted an apology. Her smile was like the sun returning after a thundery day. “I’m teasing you. Of course, you can pay me for the massage. The rest was on the house. Although I have often wondered why Medicare doesn’t come up with an item number for sexual therapy services. Then the taxman would give you a rebate.” She accepted the money and slipped it into a drawer. “Now, Mr Jennings, if you need to make another appointment, please call the receptionist.”
Lachlan drained the last of his coffee and grinned at us. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Young man loses virginity to older woman on massage table. It was fun, sure, but nothing terribly special. I’ll bet your first time was much more interesting, Margaret. Another evening I’d love to hear it. But you’d be wrong. That was just the start, before things got much more interesting.’ He paused for effect. ‘I take it you do want me to continue?’
‘Oh yes please, Lachlan,’ replied Margaret.
‘Okay then. Well, the next few weeks were pretty much a repeat of that first session. I’d make a late afternoon appointment for a massage which Anne would perform as normal and for which I’d pay. She’d then lock the door of her rooms and we’d make love. Over the course of those weeks, she taught me how to satisfy a woman with my fingers, tongue and penis, and demonstrated all manner of sexual positions that I’d only read about. She also taught me basic anatomy, and showed me how to massage a woman’s body, a skill that Pam’s been treated to many times since. And the sex was wonderful, truly wonderful. It was passionate and loving, we frequently kissed and hugged, but only while naked. As soon as we were dressed, she slipped her professional mask back on. Even I, with my lack of experience with women, realized something was missing. So, one evening, as we were dressing, I plucked up my courage and asked her out for a drink.
‘She looked at me for a few moments with an expression I couldn’t read. “I was afraid you’d ask me that,” she said.
‘”Why?” I asked.
‘”I can’t be your girlfriend, Lachlan. Not the way you’d want me to be. Apart from the fact that I’m almost old enough to be your mother, I’m married.”
‘”Married!”
‘”Yes. Did you never bother to read the signs on the front door?” she asked.
‘I’d barely paid those signs any attention, but when I thought about it, two of the names were the same. “I just assumed…” I said.
‘”Assume makes an ass of you and me,” said Anne, chuckling. “I share these rooms with my husband’s practise. He and his partner are orthopedic surgeons specializing in the treatment of sports injuries. Normally I only treat patients they refer to me. The first time you came here, you just happened to call on a day I’d had a cancellation.” She reached for my hand and looked me square in the eye. “Would you like to meet him? He’s very keen to meet you.”
‘For a moment I was dumfounded. How the hell to answer a question like that? With a question.
‘”Does he… know, about… us.?”
‘”Of course, he does, Lachlan. We’ve no secrets from each other. And how else would I explain returning home in a post orgasmic glow with a pussy full of semen.”
‘”And he doesn’t… mind?”
‘”No. And don’t ask me why. It turns him on, that’s all I know. But one thing I can tell you. If one day your lucky enough to marry yourself, just remember that what you see happening on the outside of a marriage, is not necessarily what goes on on the inside. Now, like I said, he’s keen to meet the man sending his wife home on a regular basis in a state of bliss. I’ll arrange it.”
‘Can you imagine how I felt, knowing I’d been screwing another man’s wife, while he worked only a few feet away, separated by a sheet of gyprock. It was terrifying but thrilling at the same time. And now Anne was going to introduce us. I really had no idea what to expect. Would he punch me in the face or shake my hand? Neither in the event.’
He paused and gazed at the empty coffee cup. ‘Any chance of a cognac or a malt whisky to lubricate the vocal cords? Thirsty work this storytelling. I imagine Homer was half pissed every time he finished narrating the Odyssey. Will you be all right to drive home, Pammy darling?’
Lachlan waited while I poured him a hefty measure of 18-year-old Talisker, before continuing.
‘Perhaps I should briefly explain a couple of things before forging on. Anne normally worked half days on Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s and Thursdays. Wednesday afternoon was in lieu of her Saturday morning clinic, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays she went to the Sydney University gym to work out. She offered to help me with my weight training, and we’d spent several afternoons happily pumping iron together. Since she’d started… treating me, she’d foregone some of those afternoons off. I wasn’t complaining, of course.
‘So, I think my next appointment was for a Wednesday afternoon. I had no idea what to expect. I was surprisingly nervous, but Anne soon took care of that. She was riding me cowgirl on the massage table again, and all thoughts of her husband had slipped from my mind, until I heard the click of the door handle. Anne must have forgotten to lock it. Her body blocked my view, but I heard it close again. Maybe whoever it was had glanced in, seen their mistake and slipped away.
‘”Hello, Darling,” said Anne. “Come to watch the fun?”
‘Watch! Her husband was going to watch. I tried to sit up, but Anne pushed my down again. She was surprisingly strong. All that weightlifting. “Relax, Lachlan,” she said. “Lie back and enjoy it. Think of winning the Shute Shield if you have to.”
He held up his glass, swirled the scotch around and took a deep, appreciative sip. ‘Drop of the good stuff that.’ He took another sip. ‘It’s never ceased to amaze me how easily we cross boundaries that society tells us are taboo. Within a few days, it felt entirely normal to be making love to Anne while her husband, George was his name, watched on. And he turned out to be a terrific bloke. With our clothes on we were like three old friends, chatting away about rugby, politics, food and anything else. Sex was rarely mentioned. With our clothes off, well it was only Anne and I who got naked at first, George remained fully clothed, there seemed no end to the lines that were crossed. George was like the director of a porn movie, asking us to adopt the positions that he liked, and instructing us what to put where. That was all just as exciting as the sex itself, which was no longer restricted to the treatment room, but now took place on a frequent basis at their home near Coogee. It seemed no session was complete for them, until George had watched me come in each of Anne’s orifices. I loved it. I won’t lie.’
He paused, then winked at Margaret. ‘How’re you doing over there? Pam’s heard all this before. Always makes her wetter than Lake Eyre after a flood. And I’ve still got your panties.’
‘Good job I Scotchgarded the Chesterfield, then,’ she replied, winking back at him.
‘Touché,’ said Lachlan. ‘Panties have an important part to play in this story. Anyway, after the rugby season ended, I was still training several evenings a week, and the massages and the sex continued. Sometimes we all went out together, to the gym, to the beach for swim, for a meal, for a drink. We even went clubbing occasionally, where Anne would dance with both of us. We did get the occasional strange look, a young man who obviously enjoyed the affection of an older woman and her husband, but it didn’t worry me, and it certainly didn’t worry them.
‘And then one evening I arrived at their home expecting dinner and the usual evening of voyeuristic sex. Instead, Anne greeted me at the door and told me she had a surprise for me. She escorted me through to their lounge room, where, to my astonishment, a handsome but heavily made-up woman in a tight-fitting dress sat on the couch.
‘”Come and meet my friend, Georgina.”
‘No doubt you’ve guessed as quickly as I did that Georgina was George, dressed as woman. He made a surprisingly good one too. In romantic lighting, if I hadn’t seen him before, I wouldn’t have known. And I’m not going to tease you by relating all the ways that Anne seduced me into it. Suffice to say that we ended up in bed together. Anne and I naked as usual, and Georgina minus the dress in very sexy underwear including stockings and garter belt. And instead of watching from a chair beside the bed as George usually did, Georgina lay down beside us.
‘I knew the evening was going to be different when I felt Georgina’s hands on me. She was stroking both of us actually, but Anne was so good at fueling my arousal that, after the initial surprise, I stopped caring. Georgina’s hands soon found their way to every part of my body, it helped that her fingernails were painted bright scarlet. So, there I was, apparently sandwiched between two women both of whom were touching me, although I hadn’t gone as far as touching Georgina. Things got really interesting when Anne shuffled down the bed, with the obvious intention of taking me in her mouth, and Georgina followed her lead.
‘Anne took me in her mouth and licked and sucked up and down my shaft. When she lifted her head, Georgina took over. Holy crap! A man was sucking my cock, and I didn’t give a dam. It was marvelous, Georgina’s mouth felt no different than Anne’s. It wasn’t, it really wasn’t, so I just lay back and let her do it. I even moaned my appreciation just the way I did when Anne went down on me, and I grabbed her hair and pushed her head down. I wondered why Anne gently unwrapped my fingers from Georgina’s hair, until I remembered it was a wig.
‘Anne held my hands, showered my mouth with kisses and whispered filthy words of encouragement into my ears, while Georgina continued to suck me. And the inevitable happened. I climaxed, and it was Anne who pushed Georgina’s head down against my crotch while I shot my load down her throat.
‘The rest of the evening was just a tangle of bodies as Anne and I fucked while Georgina used her hands and mouth on both of us. At some point, Anne also showed me how she feminized her husband. George’s testicles had been maneuvered up the inguinal canals and his cock taped against his crotch. In a tight pair of panties there was almost no sign of a package. He really did make a very good-looking woman. And if what we had already done was not enough, Anne produced a strap-on, slid the crotch of Georgina’s panties aside and proceed to fuck her up the backside while she sucked on my cock. Perhaps the only greater surprise was when Georgina’s panties rode up, and I saw the welts on her buttocks. I was clearly in the hands of a very kinky couple indeed.’
Lachlan paused to draw breath and swallowed another mouthful of Scotch. The rest of us had not said a word and you could have heard a pin drop.
‘It won’t surprise you then, when I tell you that the next time we all got together, Anne used her strap-on on both of us, and then persuaded me into fucking Georgina. I’d have done anything she suggested. Even submitting to the short whip she used on Georgina’s bottom. She never asked me though, allowing me to watch instead.
‘So, there I was. Six months after losing my virginity, involved in a kinky, depraved triangle with a physiotherapist and her husband slash girlfriend. Amazing. I never breathed a word of any of it in the locker room, they would never have believed it, and I suspect half your readers, James, won’t believe it either. But you couldn’t make this stuff up. You can ask Pammy. She’s the one rescued me from it.’
‘Rescued!’ echoed Margaret and I together. ‘It didn’t sound like you needed rescuing,’ I said.
‘Perhaps not, but goodness knows what I’d be doing with my life if Pam hadn’t come along. She shared some classes with me at Uni. After all Anne’s teaching, I’d developed newly found confidence with women. I can’t say I exactly swept her off her feet. I think at first, she thought I was just another hulking rugby jock. But things developed nicely between us, so nicely that I knew I had a choice. It would either have to be Pam, or Anne and Georgina. It never occurred to me then that it might be possible to have all three. I didn’t appreciate how kinky Pam would also turn out to be.
‘I was pondering how I was going to break the news to Anne, when Pam saved me the trouble. I had told her that I was seeing an older woman and Pam, with typical feminine intuition, quickly sized up the nature and quality of the opposition. I’ll leave her to tell you how she did it one day, suffice to say that I parted on good terms with Anne and George. They’re both into their sixties now, but we remained friends and I still see them occasionally… with our clothes both on and off. Pam and I were married a year later and the rest, as they say, is history.’
Lachlan leaned back in his chair, drained the last of his Talisker, and stared into the unlit fireplace. I reached for the bottle and topped up his glass.
‘I’ll try a shot of that,’ said Pam. ‘I’m probably going to need it for Dutch courage, and we can take an Uber home.’
‘Dutch courage! Whatever for?’ asked Margaret.
‘Ah yes, sorry, I was miles away, dreaming about Anne and Georgina,’ said Lachlan. ‘I was going to ask you a question, wasn’t I?’
‘Fire away, I’m all ears,’ said Margaret.
‘Last weekend you were all…’ Lachlan laughed. ‘But never mind that now. Listen! When I sent Pam here a fortnight ago it was to visit the headmaster for a caning. Now, you all had a lot of fun, but she never got what she came for, a nicely reddened, striped backside for me to admire.’
‘Er, no. The headmaster got somewhat distracted,’ replied Margaret.
‘Yes, Pam said he was too busy fucking her. Well, best take another slug of that whisky, Pammy, and brace yourself. You’re going to get that caning, but not from James, he’s too soft. I think you can do the job much better, can’t you, Margaret?’
True! I had felt, and suffered from, Margaret’s wielding of the cane. I knew for a fact that she was capable of hitting me far harder than I dared hit her. Perhaps I should have been disappointed not to be offered another chance to cane Pam. It was late, I had drunk several whiskies, but the flood of excitement at being able to watch a woman being caned, banished all thoughts of disappointment or tiredness. Even Pam’s eyes seemed to gleam with anticipation.
‘I’ll take that stunned silence as a yes, then?’ Lachlan chuckled.
‘No!’ Our heads swiveled towards Margaret; even Pam’s mouth gaped in disbelief.
‘No? I can see I shouldn’t have let you out of the slave collar,’ said Lachlan, slapping his forehead.
‘No, I am not going to cane Pam by herself,’ said Margaret, a sly smile spreading across her face. ‘That was a lovely story you told us, Lachlan. It certainly explains a lot about you. Not so much about Pam, but then as my BFF I know all I need to know about her.’
‘So, who else do you want to cane?’ asked Lachlan.
Margaret’s throaty chuckle tightened my chest with anticipation.
‘Don’t play the innocent, Lachlan. Did you think I wasn’t listening to every word? Anne let you watch her whip George… or Georgina. You found you enjoyed it. That’s why you like watching Pam being caned. But Anne never did it to you. You wanted her to, I could hear it in your voice, but you never had the courage to ask her. Goodness knows why, you’re no stranger to pain, but you didn’t, and she never offered. And you’ve always wished she had. So… I’m offering now. If you want me to cane Pam, then I want to cane you too.’
Lachlan laughed. ‘I should have known better than to underestimate a woman’s intuition. You’re right, I saw the marks she made on George’s backside and wondered what it would feel like to be whipped like that. I’ve dislocated and broken shoulders and fingers, played on with cracked ribs and been raked by studs, but I’ve never been whipped or caned. It seems odd, somehow, to accept the pain of full physical contact sport, but be squeamish about letting someone deliberately inflict it on you. I’m always in awe of Pam, or anyone, you included Margaret, who can take a caning with hardly a murmur. I see the marks and I wonder, could I bear it too.’
‘Only one way to find out. Go and fetch the cane, James.’ Margaret’s commanding tone was thrilling.
As I returned to the lounge room, Margaret uncoiled her legs, stretched them and stood up. I handed the cane to her. She beckoned Lachlan and Pam to join her.
She waved the cane under their noses. ‘Pam’s more familiar with this than you Lachlan, so this is mostly for your benefit.’
Swish! Swish! The cane arced back and forth.
‘This is not’ — swish — ‘a toy’ — swish. ‘I don’t know why they still sell them here, caning’s been abolished, except for those of us who like these things, but this is the real deal, a punishment cane. It’s a bit shorter than the ones they use in Singapore on drug dealers, but it’s quite capable of inflicting severe bruising, welts, cuts and’ — swish, swish — ‘pain. Real pain. Especially if used on the wrong places. Here, feel it.’
Lachlan turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight and testing the springiness.
‘It’s made of dragon rattan,’ continued Margaret. ‘It grows in Indonesia and is one of the hardest, most durable canes. I wonder if the farmers who gather it have any idea how much ends being used on the naked bottoms of willing women. The leather handle makes a firm grip, it’s not too whippy and it makes terrific marks. Try it.’ Lachlan swished the cane several times in the air and then landed a firm blow on one of the cushions on the Chesterfield. There was a resounding thwack and his eyes lit up in surprise.
‘Satisfying isn’t it,’ said Margaret grinning. ‘Easy on a cushion, of course, it doesn’t jump or wriggle about. On someone’s bum you have to be precise and land exactly on target. I wince when I watch some of the caning videos you see on the web, where longer, whippier canes are slashed all over the place and the tip digs in.’
Lachlan whacked the cushion several more times and handed the cane back. ‘I know that Pam likes being caned when she’s in the right mood, and I’ve read James’s stories on Literotica, so I know you like it too. But it must hurt, so what’s the attraction?’
‘Adrenalin, endorphins and controlled violence, just what makes a game of rugby so enjoyable for you. And, as I’m sure Pam has told you, a well delivered caning fires all the nerves in the pelvis, which, for a human with the benefit of a clitoris, can be incredibly stimulating. You might not believe it, but some women actually climax during a caning. Not me, unfortunately, but it really turns me on. Not so much the caning itself, that can be a struggle, but the anticipation and the aftereffects, knowing what I’ve had the courage to endure. That becomes addictive.’
‘Yeah, Pam says the same,’ said Lachlan. ‘I’ve watched her enough times to know she gets off on being spanked. But I do worry a bit when she comes home with blood-spotted panties, as to how hard she’s been hit.’
Margaret laughed. ‘It’s funny how squeamish some people can be when they see a bruised bottom trickling blood after a hard caning, yet don’t turn a hair when rugby players play on with bloody noses, split lips and cut eyebrows. I watched Sam Burgess play almost an entire grand final with a cracked eye socket, and who was that women played on after breaking her nose when a tackle went wrong? She had blood pouring down her face.’
‘Georgia Page,’ replied Lachlan. ‘Yes, I suppose I see that. Bit of blood’s nothing to be afraid of. And bruises heal.’
‘Right then, are we going to talk all night, or are we going to get on with it.’ She pointed to the Chesterfield. ‘No role playing. Just strip, both of you and kneel on the Chesterfield, one at each end, rest your forearms on the back and stick your bottoms out.’
Pam slipped the straps of the bodycon dress over her shoulders, dropped it to the floor and stepped away. She was braless, but her large, rounded breasts sat firm on her chest. She reached down for her thong panties.
‘Not so fast, Pammie,’ said Lachlan. ‘Aren’t we supposed to discuss safe words and agree a number of strokes. That’s what you normally do.’
Pam rested her hands on her hips and pouted at him. ‘Are you worried about me, or your own virgin hide? Usually, you’re all for me taking as many strokes as you think I ought to bear.’ A wicked grin spread across her face. ‘Seeing that this was your idea, I challenge you. Let’s see who can take the most, you or me. First one to quit’s the loser.’
‘Oohh, I like the sound of that,’ said Margaret. ‘How about I keep going until one of you cries out, moves or tells me to stop.’ She tapped Lachlan with the cane. ‘Think you can keep still and not make a sound through a dozen strokes. I bet Pam can.’
‘Dunno, we’ll find out. But what do I get if I win, eh Pammie?’
Pam laughed and her boobs jiggled deliciously. ‘What you always get, lover. The pleasure of fucking me senseless. More to the point, what do I get if I win?’
‘I’ll fuck you senseless, like always… after I’ve given you the longest clit sucking and tongue fucking of your life. I’ll even throw in a good rimming. How’s that sound?’
‘Wonderful.’ Pam shimmied out her thong, flashed me a grin as she caught me staring at the red landing strip highlighting her vulva, and knelt on the Chesterfield. ‘Now, come on, Lachie’ she said. ‘Get your kit off and join me.’ She bent forward to rest her arms on the backrest and wiggled her bottom. Her puffy labia glistened between her parted thighs.
Lachlan pulled his shirt over his head, reached for his belt and paused. ‘Okay, but what if neither of us gives in.’
Margaret swished the cane menacingly. ‘I can assure you will… eventually.’
‘Yes, but what if we set a limit on the number of cane strokes, and I reached that limit, or we both did. What would I get? What would we get?’
‘Ah, you mean it’ll be me versus you, as well as you versus Pam. I can tell by that grin you think there’s a chance you could beat us both.’
‘Why not? If I do, I’ll have you both, and fuck you senseless.’
Pam snorted and laughed.
‘Ease up, Cochise,’ said Margaret. ‘That’s a very one-sided approach and I’m not sure James would approve. Also, I’m very good with the cane. What do I get if I win?’
‘Well, let’s think about that,’ said Lachlan. ‘First, James has no skin in the game. Unless he wants to join in. But I suppose, if you win you get James and me to do with as you will, or Pam does if she wins. And if I win, I get you and her. James can watch.’
Margaret laughed. ‘So, basically, everyone wins… except James if I lose.’ She shook her head. ‘And what happens if I beat you, but Pam holds out. Seems to me this a phallocentric contest. But I’ll tell you what. If you can both survive thirty strokes, I’ll wear the slave collar for a week. If James agrees, of course. Otherwise, you can sort it out between the two of you.’
Lachlan turned to me. ‘Is that a deal mate?’
What a conversation! Margaret offering herself to Lachlan again, if he and Pam managed to endure thirty strokes of the cane without moving or making a sound. Wow! On the other hand, what were the chances? I had felt the weight of Margaret’s cane stokes and doubted I could take that many. And Lachlan had never been caned, let alone from cold with no warmup first.
‘No worries. Go for it.’
‘You’re putting a lot of faith in me,’ said Margaret. ‘What if I let them win?’
Yikes! I hadn’t thought of that.
Pam laughed. ‘Careful Mags, last time I wore that collar I was gangbanged in a derelict warehouse.’ She lifted a hand from the backrest and smoothed it over her bottom. The pale skin was almost translucent. It would mark easily. ‘Anyway, thirty’s too many. Make it two dozen and we’ve all got a deal.’
‘No problem,’ said Margaret. ‘I’ll just have to hit harder.’ She prodded Lachlan with the end of the cane. ‘So big boy, are we gonna do this?’
Lachlan nodded, kicked off his loafers and dropped his chinos.
‘Not so excited this time.’ Margaret pointed the cane towards his crotch, where the flaccid penis and ball sack still made an impressive package.’
‘Big game nerves. They’ll pass.’ He slid his underpants down and stood naked in front of Margaret, submitting to her scrutiny with a relaxed smile on his face.
‘You do know I’m going to enjoy this?’ she said. ‘James might have told you, I something of a sadist. Almost a pity it’s taken me over forty years to find out. Think how many men I could have caned. Right, get on the couch and bend over.’
Lachlan knelt on the Chesterfiled at the far end from Pam. His huge body gleamed in the lamplight, the muscles rippling through the taut skin. While Pam’s delectable bottom was rounded with an ample layer of subcutaneous fat, Lachlan’s was lean with little to cushion against the strokes. His scrotum bulged between his thighs adding to his vulnerability.
Margaret strode slowly up and down behind them, swishing the cane to add to the tension of keeping them waiting for her to begin. Finally, she stopped pacing and stood behind Pam.
‘Are you ready, Pammie? You first. Twenty-four strokes.’ She stood to the side and took several measured practice swings, laying the centre of the cane evenly across Pam’s buttocks.
Lachlan turned his head and whistled softly. ‘I’m going to so enjoy having you later.’
‘Save your enthusiasm. You’re gonna need it. ‘Margaret extended her left hand and gently stroked Pam’s buttocks. ‘So, last chance to back out, Pammie darling.’
‘Lay on, Mags,’ said Pam.
‘Count please, James.’
Margaret drew back the cane, paused for a moment, then slashed it hard against Pam’s buttocks.
Thwack!
Pam sucked a breath. Her back arched, but she immediately forced it straight. A red line blossomed across the apex of the swell of her buttocks.
‘One,’ I counted.
Margaret measured her swing again and lined up the cane. Under the material of the dress, her breasts bobbed as her arm swung. The cane blurred.
Swoosh! THWACK.
The softest grunt escaped Pam’s lips and she tossed her head as she fought to remain still.
‘Two.’
A second red line blossomed.
‘You do mark so easily, Pammie,’ said Margret running her fingertips along the tramlines. ‘We’ll do this in batches of six, I’ll give you a break in between. Ready?’
Pam nodded. Margaret drew back her arm and laid another four strokes across Pam’s bottom in rapid succession. The strokes were harder than anything I had inflicted upon Margaret, as hard as some of those I’d seen in Eastern European spanking videos. Pam breathed heavily after each stroke but managed to remain silent.
Margaret prowled back and forth behind Pam like an impatient lioness, keen to move in for the kill.
‘Eighteen more to go. It’s not going to get any easier.’
‘Okay, I’m ready.’
I counted the next six. Each one raised a bright red welt. By the end of them, Pam was trembling and struggling to remain still. Margaret gave her extra time to recover, while admiring her handiwork.
‘You’re marking up nicely Pammy. Beautiful bright red stripes, and we’re only halfway there. Can’t wait to watch you try and sit down afterwards.’ She raised her arm. ‘Right. Six more. Brace yourself.’
The cane blurred as it arced savagely into Pam’s bottom. She yelped and reached around to grab her backside.
‘Whoaa! That hurt. Oh shit! Does that mean I’ve lost?’
”Fraid so. You moved and cried out,’ said Margaret. ‘Shame, I was enjoying that. You sure you wouldn’t like me to go on. Just to see if you could take all twenty-four?’
‘No point,’ said Pam, rubbing her bottom.
‘Tell you what that, though. You could still win if I add the rest of your strokes to Lachlan’s. How’s that sound Lachie. Thirty-six strokes. You’ve seen what twelve did to Pam. Reckon you can take them?’
‘Piece of cake,’ said Lachlan, laughing.
I was amazed at his bravado. Pam was still massaging her buttocks, which were covered in angry, red welts.
‘It’s your bottom,’ said Margaret. ‘Tuck your package between your thighs so it’s not in the firing line and stick your bum out. Ready? Same rules. No noise and don’t move.’
She raised her arm and waited while Lachlan readied himself. The soft light of the wall lamps highlighted the magnificence of her body. Her breasts sat high and proud, the firm nipples visible through the material of her dress. Tensed muscles stood out on her arms and legs. She tossed her mane of hair, cocked her wrist and sliced the cane towards Lachlan’s exposed bottom.
The frightening crack was instantly followed by a cry of, ‘HOLY SHIT!’
There was a moment’s silence, before Lachlan burst out laughing. ‘Just look at your faces. Christ that hurt. You didn’t really think I was going to take them all did you?’
‘I thought you’d manage more than one,’ said Margaret. ‘I’m disappointed, Lachlan. Pam’s obviously made of much sterner stuff than you.’
She dropped the cane on the Chesterfield. ‘Put your clothes back on, both of you. I’ve had enough playing games for one evening.’
‘But you won,’ said Lachlan, pulling his trousers back on. ‘You can claim your prize. What do you want us to do?’
‘You planned this,’ said Margaret. ‘You never intended to win. You just wanted to watch me cane Pam, and the rest of it was a ploy to make me hit harder.’ She turned to Pam. ‘Are you okay?’
Pam had wriggled back into her bodycon dress but remained standing, rubbing her bottom.
‘Yes. I’m burning nicely. But it’s okay.’
‘Did Lachlan really think you were going to take twenty-four strokes like that?’
Pam’s mouth curled into a smile. ‘It wasn’t his idea. I wanted to see if I could. I’ve wanted you to cane me for ages, ever since you asked me to set up your visit to the headmaster. I’ve never had a woman cane me.’ She ran her palms over her buttocks and grimaced. ‘But boy, you can hit hard. They hurt.’
‘Wow! You didn’t need to go through all that. You could just have asked? And I’m sorry, by the way, for hurting you.’
‘You don’t understand Mags. The thing that really turns me on about spanking and caning is not the pain, it hurts it’s meant to. It’s the anticipation, the thought that I’m to be punished, that I’ll have to take whatever number of strokes I’m ordered to. Yes, I’ve got a safe word if I need it. But I don’t want to have to use it. Normally, I prefer being restrained, so I can’t evade the strokes. And I’m free to cry out if I need to. What you did was great, but it was too easy to get out of. I couldn’t help moving and yelling. And then you offered me a choice. It’s better when I feel I don’t have any choice. Does that make any sense? If we ever do this again, you’ll have to restrain me and ignore any cries and tears.’
She reached out her arms and offered Margaret a hug. ‘Thank you, Mags, you’re such a good sport to put up with Lachie’s games. He’s such a deviant, but I do love him.’ She kissed Margaret on the mouth. ‘Now, there’s a tube of arnica gel in my handbag. Would you rub some onto my bottom.’
Lachlan finished dressing while Margaret raised Pam’s skirt and massaged a generous dollop of cream onto her inflamed and painful looking buttocks. When she had finished, Pam gathered the rest of her things.
‘Have you called an Uber, Lachie. We’ve kept these good people away from their bed for far too long.’
‘You want to go home?’ he asked. ‘Margaret hasn’t collected her prize.’
‘I’ll take a rain check,’ said Margaret.
‘Sur… prise would be a better description,’ said Lachlan, grinning. ‘She doesn’t know, does she?’
‘Know what?’ asked Margaret.
‘Stay there,’ I said.
I darted into the study, unlocked the desk drawer and retrieved a velvet bag. Returning to the lounge I told Margaret to close her eyes. When she had shut them, I pulled open the drawstring and extracted what Lachlan and I had spent a day trawling Sydney’s exotic jewelers to find. Pam’s eyes lit up with surprise. Lachlan smirked.
‘Hold out your hands, Margaret.’
I laid the object across her outstretched fingers.
‘Oooohh! Is that what I think it is?’
‘Open your eyes.’
‘Oh… my… God. Is it…?’
‘Yes twenty-four carat. I had to sell Jayney to a white slaver to afford it.’
Margaret laughed and turned the gold collar over in her hands. Rather than a band, it was a heavy link gold chain. At the front, the ends of the chain were secured to the sides of a shackled heart pendant. At the back, the ends terminated in gold rings that could be padlocked together. To one of the rings was attached the three spoke wheel symbol of submission that featured in ‘The Story of O.’
‘Does this mean…?’
‘Yes, I’ve made an appointment for you to visit a piercing parlour. But there’s more.’
‘More?’ She looked at me quizzically. ‘Isn’t it enough to be pierced.’
‘You promised to be my slave if I bought you a gold collar, remember. Put it on and I’ll tell you the rest.’
‘Fantasy slave, is what I said.’
‘Who’s fantasies?’ I laughed. ‘I think I’ve got you there, Margaret. Your fantasies are much more exciting than mine.’ I held out a gold padlock.
‘Are you ready to be my slave, Margaret.’
‘It is gold, and I did promise.’
‘When you’re wearing it, you’ll be mine to do with as I please. Think about it. If you want to back out, I can take it back.’
‘No. I’ll keep it and take the risk.’ She reached up and slipped the chain collar around her neck. I brought the ends together at the back, slipped the padlock through the securing rings and snapped it shut. I dangled the keys in front of her, then slipped them in my pocket.
‘Good girl. Right then. Let’s start the way we mean to go on. Get naked, but leave the stockings on.’
Margaret’s throaty chuckle was again music to my ears. She slipped out her dress and unhooked her bra. Naked, apart from high heels and stockings, she gazed at me with blazing eyes.
‘Sit down you two.’ I pointed Lachlan and Pam to the Chesterfield and picked up the cane. ‘You can enjoy watching Margaret take her first caning as a slave.’
‘Assume the position, Margaret. Twenty-four hard strokes, one for each carat. Pam can count them and there’ll be an extra six if you move or make any more noise than Pam did.’
Margaret obediently bent over and grabbed hold of her shins. Her bottom stuck out invitingly. I was going to enjoy this so very much. I drew back my arm. The cane whistled through the air.
CRACK!
The flesh of her buttocks quivered and a red line blossomed.
‘One.’