Victoria and Margaret Pt. 04

VII

Once again, Victoria and Margaret were having tea and intimate gossip. This time they were tucked into the small pavilion in the Japanese tea garden in Golden Gate Park, enjoying marvelous Japanese tea and ginger cookies. Margaret, the tall, robust blonde had chosen, saying that she had interesting information to share; now, she and her petite companion relaxed into comfortable wicker chairs and watched their mugs breathe flavorful steam into the chill air.

It had gone late Autumn in the city by the bay - although one season was much like another on the northern California coast: cool, wet and foggy. Now, a thick cloud had rolled into town, quickly converting even the open fields and groves of the park into little gray-toned intimate spaces. The tea room hostess moved about the pavilion's interior, lighting spiced oil lamps against the gathering gloom; the two women snuggled further into their fashionable cashmere coats, feeling warm and relaxed while they watched the landscape disappear through the teahouse's broad windows.

Victoria was nervous, and for a reason. On a late-summer outing with her friend she had betrayed an infatuation that had been growing for some time; it was lustful, debasing - and she had been rebuffed. Although Margaret had been gentle with her and had been nothing but friendly since, she still felt the embarrassment of having her intimate feelings deflected and apprehension about the status of their relationship. It was true that her friend had suggested they "explore these feelings" at another time, and had suggested that another advance might be more than welcome, she was still uneasy. And then they had met, hugged - a nice, familiar hug between old friends - and sat. Her feelings returned, but they were manageable, thank God...

"Viki, darling!" Margaret turned and spoke, her voice low but excited. She pinned Victoria to her chair with her gaze. "It was so good of you to come! I was just dying to share this bit of information, and I couldn't think of anyone better for it! Heavens, it was so exciting!"

"Well, what is it?" Victoria replied, matching her tone and thinking that the two of them sounded like a couple of anarchists, conspiring to blow up the courthouse. "Did you finally dominate Charles as I suggested? And did he like it as I said he would?"

The two women had been sharing intimate details of their married lives for some time now. Victoria and Robert had been exploring domination and submission, with lots of costumes, crops, canes and a bit of anal play - the latter with the guidance of Doctor Lois Couldé, a European specialist at the new San Francisco Public Hospital. She was a bit unorthodox in what she called "marital therapy," and both the women and their partners had profited deliciously thereby.

Margaret looked at her companion curiously for a moment. "I did, but not as you suggested." Seeing Victoria cock an eyebrow curiously, she continued. "As I've told you, Charles is not the sort to go for the kind of play you and Robert enjoy so much. If I told him to kneel before me and lick me to completion, he'd likely laugh and walk away. Ordering him about is not what excites him - being helpless under my hands and body is. Really. But if I tie him enough to really immobilize him, it takes a long while, and the excitement sometimes dies. Or he gets raw from the ropes. In fact, that's what got the whole thing rolling..." her voice drifted off.

"Yes? So?" Victoria leaned in, eager.

Margaret seemed to snap back to the present. "Oh! Well, it really started with Mei Lin - you know, our new maid...."

"Marge! Don't tell me your maid tired your husband up! That's just too..."

Margaret held her hand up to silence her friend. "Viki, so help me... you are just so bad, thinking such a thing!" A languorous smile spread across her face. "Although, given events, perhaps..." She shrugged and shook herself. "But no. Mei Lin came to me in the upstairs hallway, a length of the thin cotton rope that I use to bind Charles in her hand. I always have them washed after... you know... and this time he had been especially... vigorous. He had chafed himself a bit. She asked me about the stain that had remained on the rope after washing; what it was, that she couldn't get it out of the cotton. I was surprised and couldn't think of anything, so I just shrugged. But I must have blushed furiously, because she gave me a very curious look and came closer, whispering 'Ma'am, I should ask... does your husband bind you for sex?' I was shocked by her question, and my expression must have shown it, because she was immediately profusely apologetic. But then she asked if I did it to him! Viki, I was mortified!"

Victoria's face showed her shock. "The little minx! Did you discharge her?"

Margaret shook her head. "No. For some reason I nodded! And she smiled - a broad, knowing smile. And then she said something that was truly shocking. She said that she had half guessed we enjoyed this little variation in our marital relations. There were tiny tells in our behavior - things only servants would usually notice - and evidences of wantonness and lust in our clothing. She also said that sometimes if bonds are made too tight or if the bound partner is too 'uncontrolled,' there is chafing and staining. She suggested we try silk rope, and when my look asked the question, she giggled and said that she hadn't always been a maid, and that her husband was part owner of a shop with a certain 'specialty' and clientele. She asked if I was interested in seeing it, and I agreed to go with her to have a look."

Victoria's eyes went wide and one white-gloved hand covered her mouth. "Marge, you trollop," she said. "What did you do?"

"I went to Chinatown with Mei Lin," Margaret replied. "And I'm glad I did. It was exciting and fulfilling, if a little exotic. You know Chinatown..." Her friend nodded. "Well, there's an alleyway off Sacramento street between DuPont and Kearney. We went in and headed for the back. I think there's a stable at the end, judging from the horse leavings on the pavements; it smelled rank and we had to watch our steps. Eventually there was a doorway in the building on the left, wooden, with a single ideogram on it. Mei Lin opened it, and in we went. Inside, it looked like any other Chinese business: some of this, some of that, a lot of who-knows-what, all in no particular order and no labels in English. Mei Lin went to the back and spoke to an older Chinese woman, then beckoned me forward. She spoke again; I think she introduced me as a friend. The woman nodded and we entered a smaller door into a larger room in the back.

This room was quiet. It had a higher ceiling and was well-lit by clerestory windows high up on the alley side. It was spacious, with large glass display cases on either side and a row of smaller cases in the middle. There were many items on racks along the wall, and the whole place smelled slightly of leather. It fact I thought at first that it was some sort of high-end tack shop, until I looked closer and realized suddenly that the harnesses were all for people!

There were dozens of them, in all shapes and sizes, with rings, buckles, studs; there were designs intended for men, with rings in strategic places to hold the... manhood... in place, rings at the back and sides to secure hands and a strap between the legs with another ring whose purpose I didn't grasp until Mei Lin giggled again and whispered that some men, when restrained, liked various... items... to be worked into them, and held while they struggled. It took me a moment to understand, but when I did, I blushed furiously and thought of Charles. Mei Lin saw, and nodded with a small, sensual smile."

"Oh, my!" whispered Victoria. "Your maid knows what you and your husband get up to? How horrifying!"

Margaret fixed her friend with a calm look. "Not at all," she continued. "After all, she introduced me to this private shop, full of all sorts of delights. There were harnesses obviously for women too, pretty harnesses made out of the smoothest, softest colored leathers. Black, red, blue - even a few white ones. All with rings in the same places as the others, and more: rings to fit over the nipples, rings in collars and a broad strap up the back connecting the collar and the belt, two rings on a strap between the legs...

Victoria's eyes grew large and her mouth dropped. She seemed to be having trouble sitting still.

"Oh, yes, Viki. There, too. Just imagine what that would be like! I was already becoming uncomfortably warm just looking at this roomful of pretty things used for... intimate purposes. But there was more to see, much more! The display cases contained a large number of items, to be used with the harnesses or by themselves. Crops of all lengths; paddles and straps of the finest leather; collars, for the plainest to wonderfully decorated, of leather, woven material and even metal! You would have absolutely loved them! There was rope of all kinds - from hemp, for those who sought intense sensation while immobilized, to silk. As Mei Lin suggested, the latter was smooth as water flowing over the skin; it was woven, not twisted, and came in a wide variety of colors and diameters, even the thinnest of which, I was told, could not be broken by the strongest man."

"And there were other implements, Viki! Clever spring clips whose pinch can be adjusted for just the right pinch to the nipples - a pinch that will never vary, never stop and, if one is bound one can do nothing about. There were gags, including rings of various sizes, for those who want to... play... with the open mouth of their bound captive. Just imagine!"

Victoria looked as though she was imagining it intensely. She was panting, swaying and her eyes were unfocussed. Could she spend, she wondered, just from Margaret's description? The apex of her thighs was painted with her nectar, and her drawers were dampening. She was very close...

Margaret continued, seemingly oblivious to her confidante's... situation. "Viki, there were cases of things to be used inside people! Copies of the male member - which we both love so, made from Ivory, lacquered ebony wood, leather... even rubber, I think. In all sorts of sizes, from the size of your pointer finger to massive; and other things whose use I can imagine but don't know: short and wide, with a taper at the bottom and a wide base; those were in all sorts of sizes as well. Five ivory balls on a thick string, some graduated from smaller to larger, some all the same size; two larger balls on a string both with heavy metal balls inside. I asked about those - they are especially for women! One tucks them inside one's... sheath, and there they should remain; as one walks, the heavy metal balls roll about, bouncing off small bumps inside the larger ones. I was told the effect is subtle, but startling. And again, inescapable, especially if one is using them in public. No one will know unless the user starts moaning. In fact that's the point of most of the things this store: constant, inescapable pleasure. Think of it, Viki! One's hands bound behind one's back or to a harness at one's side, legs bound open, immobilized. And then teased into spending. Slowly, mercilessly. Teased to the very edge of culmination, then denied the crisis. And then again. And again.... I'm going to have such fun with Charles..."

Victoria could imagine it. She was imagining it, all of it, and the vision had her wet beneath her petticoats. Richard, moaning and writhing in his bonds as she slowly guided him to ecstasy. And not only him... She looked at her friend and imagined her in a red leather harness with her hands bound behind her and the strap between her legs holding the artificial members violating her tightly against her double altars of Venus. She imagined the tall, powerful woman moaning helplessly as she cropped her bottom and thighs - carefully, so as not to provoke her into spending - and then soothed her with kisses and caresses until she finally broke and poured out her essence, hips jerking, nipples pressing outrageously against the rings restraining them, eyes blankly staring, mouth open, panting and howling... Victoria finally found her voice, speaking unsteadily through a lust-filled haze.

"So you actually bought things? And you will use them on Charles?" her mind was a fog of the filthiest sort of images.

"Of course, Viki. Charles loves me beyond reason, and he's fond of... new experiences. He should be quite excited about a couple of the items I sent home with Mei Ling. Including enough silk rope to keep him both quiet and comfortable while we... experiment. You should come with me when I revisit that emporium, as I am certain I will. I'm sure you could find something quite to your taste."

"I'm certain I could," Victoria thought to herself. "And I'm sure you would fancy it as well, Margaret, my darling..." she smiled as she nodded. "Yes, that would be delightful. Such a treasure shouldn't remain a secret to one."

"In the meantime, I thought you might be interested in these," said Margaret, extending a gloved hand holding a modest lacquerware box with elaborate ribbon wrapping. "Consider it an enticement and a promise." She watched with a curious, almost predatory, expression as her friend unwrapped the ribbon.

Inside, nestled on velvet were two ivory balls on a long, white woven tape. They were large, but not enormous. Instinctively, Victoria knew they would fit perfectly inside her; large enough that they could be easily retained, but not so large that they would be painful to insert. They were mirror-smooth, beautiful. She looked up and Margaret smiled.

"You wrap the tape around your waist when they are inside," she explained. "It would be embarrassing to expel them in public otherwise. That way, they remain out of sight, and nothing but your flushing and whimpering will give you away..." She grinned. "Will you wear them home for me? I bought them just for you, dearest Victoria..."

Victoria was stunned. She sat in her comfortable chair, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, unconsciously licking her lips. Her mind was going a thousand miles an hour. Bought them for me? She thought. Dearest Victoria? Oh, my, oh my, ohmy... Is this what Margaret meant when she said she wanted to 'explore those feelings later' when my fumbling attempt at seduction went wrong? She remembered pressing her naked body against Margaret in the soaking tub at the Tahoe Tavern months ago. She remembered the soft rejection, and the promise of more, at an appropriate time. Is this it?

Margaret broke into her reverie. "Don't goggle so, Viki," she whispered. "Someone might think I proposed the filthiest sort of public indecency with you." She took stock of her friend: the soft panting, the deep blush, the unconscious squirming... Oh, yes, she thought. My darling beautiful friend is so, so ready for this... She took the small box from her abstracted companion and set it aside on a small table. Taking Victoria's gloved hands in hers, she squeezed them slightly and bent her head to whisper in the smaller woman's ear. "Please do this for me, Viki. It's a pleasure I can give you now, and I will pay you with others later. Will you wear them for me? Please say yes..."

The smaller woman tucked her head against Margaret's shoulder. After a moment, she nodded.

Margaret let her rest for a minute or two, and then slipped her hand under Victoria's chin. Raising her head so that she could gaze into her friend's eyes, she continued. "I knew you would, you adventuress. What a good friend you are. What a good girl you are for me..." She held her friend's head steady, watching her turn crimson at the final phrase. "Will you put them in now? There's a toilet at the back of the pavilion..."

Again, the nod.

"Would you like my help, dear?"

Victoria's insides exploded into butterflies. Could she? No, it was too soon, too fast. She shook her head, not trusting her words. She was lost...

"All right. Take your time. Enjoy the process. It's quite lovely. I'll see to the bill..." Margaret watched her smaller friend stand, a bit wobbly at first, and then retire to the conveniences.

Victoria's inner turmoil continued in the well-appointed confines of the toilet. Since the season was turning, there were no other patrons, thankfully. The room was lockable so she did so. Seating herself on the edge of the toilet cover, she spread her legs as widely as she could and, setting the smooth white balls on the edge of the sink thought for a moment about how to proceed. Then she reached down to the hemline of her skirt and, rolling the skirt and petticoats together, rested the bundle on her stomach to expose her drawers. Holding her skirts in place with her elbow, she opened the slit in her drawers, noticing the thin cotton still retained a good bit of moisture from her previous excitement. The point of no return.

Victoria retrieved the balls from the sink edge and transferred them to her right hand. This might be awkward, she thought. It would be better on a bed. Alas... She placed her pointer and middle finger against her netherlips and drew them open, provoking a fresh supply of dew to lubricate the passage. Placing the first ball at her opening, she pushed.

There was a bit of resistance at first, but then - a usually happened with Richard - she gave way and the ball slid in, bringing with it a nice sensation of her sheath being opened and filled. And then it stopped. She raised the second ball and pressed, finding it a bit harder. The first ball pushed deeper into her; bigger around than her husband, she found that it was stretching a part of her that hadn't been exercised since... forever. All sorts of nerves were being awakened inside her, and they liked what they were feeling. Very much. As she pushed in against the clench, she found she was panting...

Finally, her body accepted the second ball; it slipped inside and she automatically clamped down, experiencing another rush of fluid and a delicious feeling of being full. She leaned back and relaxed, enjoying the sensation of the balls inside her, their unyielding hardness and unfamiliar weight doing strange and wonderful things to her insides. What a delicious and naughty feeling, she mused through a thickening fog of pleasure. Oh, Margaret, you sweetheart... She tied the tape around her waist as Margaret had instructed, lowered her petticoats and skirts to the floor, and stood up.

The balls shifted as she did so. The feeling was subtle, but definite; new places were caressed and excited, new sensations came to the fore. She took a step. And discovered the evil genius of Margaret's seduction.

As she moved, the balls moved inside her. And the heavy interior balls moved against their outer containers, bestowing unpredictable taps and bumps to her increasingly sensitive inner walls. Walking back to their table was a symphony of exquisite, torturous, inescapable pleasure. It was a leisurely stroll, and Victoria was on the edge of a massive orgasm the entire distance.

Margaret was at the table; she rose as her friend approached. "Viki, what's wrong? You look flushed..." A smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"You... you hussy," Victoria hissed. "I feel like I'm going to spend right noooowww.." The last word was a low, drawn-out moan as she collapsed into a chair, mouth open, eyes staring, hands scrabbling at the arms.

"I'm glad you enjoy the gift," Margaret replied brightly. "I've taken care of the bill. We should probably be going. Do you want me to help you home, darling?" The last was solicitous, with smile and a cocked eyebrow. Her friend was still panting and trembling, after all.

"N... no." Victoria responded. "I... I'll be f... fine." Margaret helped her rise, and when her small, slender friend lost her balance and fell against her, she leaned close to whisper in her ear.

"I'm happy I found a way to make you spend so easily. You can repay me next time..." When Victoria raised her eyes to her friend's she found them warm and smiling. Margaret continued "Come on, dear. I'll at least see you to the streetcar stop." And at the end, a small kiss on the ear and the slightest nip at the earlobe.

Then they were off, Margaret striding, Victoria leaning against her in an erotic fog as the assault of sensations continued from the apex of her thighs. Finally they reached the stop, just as the streetcar rumbled up, bell clanging. Margaret helped her friend up the running board and into the car, then hopped back off and waved as Victoria headed down the hill.

The ride was an agony of pleasure. Did Victoria think that walking was torturous? This was worse. The streetcar, with its lurchings, bumpings, pitchings and clatterings over grates and other metals in the street produced echoing lurching and bumping within her. Her petticoats were drenched. She was sweating and panting; no one sat nearby, thankfully, to hear that she was constantly moaning softly, now and then biting her hand as the crisis overtook her - as it did four times before she reached her stop. Perhaps they thought her mad, or taken with fever instead of simply burning up with lust.

Finally she left the streetcar and stumbled onto the sidewalk. A block to go. It took two more orgasms for her to reach her house, and another before she was in the bathroom she and Richard had appended to their bedroom. Victoria unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall; she undid the tapes holding up her sodden petticoats and drawers, which followed. She untied the tape at her waist and, sitting down on the edge of her makeup chair, drew the first ball out of her. It was hard; she clenched as it came out, magnifying the situation and arousing her again. When she pulled the second out it was as if her body didn't want to release it; it came with a rush of fluid and a sensation like that she imagined would be caused by being penetrated by a stallion or a bull. She howled and moaned as she spent furiously, then leaned back, panting, exhausted.

Eventually she rose, took the balls and set them in warm, soapy water. She put her underwear in the laundry and hung her skirt up. She walked back into the bedroom and, still in her chemise, corset, shirt and jacket, still wearing her stockings and boots, threw her self onto the bed and collapsed - utterly and completely sated and spent. Her last thought was Oh, yes, Margaret darling. I'll pay you back all right. Then sleep took her.

VIII

Lips fluttered on the back of her neck, soft kisses behind her ear. Victoria came awake slowly, languidly, her eyes opening to the setting sun throwing golden patterns onto the walls and over the coverlet of the bed. Half awake, she reached back with her left hand, purring and murmuring "Oh! Darling. That feels divine..." and she touched Robert's collar and beard.

She was instantly awake. "Robert! My god! I hadn't realized it was so late!" She was mortified. What a tableau she must present: naked from the waist down, legs splayed open wantonly, everything she had on full display. She attempted to rally herself and rise, but Robert's hand was firmly on the small of her back, holding her down.

"Please don't move, sweetheart. I like this view just fine. Have I told you lately what a beautiful bottom you have? I should tell you every day. It's simply divine..." He shifted slightly and his lips came to her left ear. Between kisses and light nips at her earlobe, he continued. "But what has my darling been doing that leaves her like this? Or is it a temptation? Ooooo, how wonderfully decadent..."

Victoria could feel his heat, smell his wonderful scent - a mixture of the smokey cologne he preferred, now layered onto a different, more subtle tone that was all his. She could feel his arousal as he lowered himself, fully clothed, against her, moving his right hand to skim his fingernails along the back of her right thigh. The caress made her feel languorous, hungry. She moved to close her thighs, but Robert's hand pushed her open.

"No, dear. You've had me this way many times. Now, it's my turn. You be still, relax and let me play." He shifted onto his side and his touches became more purposeful, reaching lower and drifting higher, almost to the crease where her bottom met her thigh. His nails traced sharp lines on her right leg, and then the pads of his fingertips repeated the pattern on her left thigh. He whispered again. "Now, darling - tell me about your afternoon. How did you come to be dozing half-naked on our bed? Not that I would mind finding you like this every day..."

Victoria couldn't think. Despite the avalanche of pleasure she had endured on the way home, Robert's caresses were exciting her terribly. She could feel herself melting beneath his teasing fingers, her sheath clenching desperately and her notch moistening. I'll spend if he continues much longer, she realized. What then? How can I..... oh, please.... She spoke, in a voice barely above a whisper and most unsteady.

"I... I had tea with Margaret today and..." Robert's finger's drifted higher as he interrupted.

"Margaret? And what did she do to leave you like this?" His lips were right at her ear now, whispering, his breath warm, inviting. "Did she take liberties, the great, beautiful libertine? Did she use you? You must tell me all..." His fingers were now running up and down her entrance slowly, lightly; not enough to offer her release but more than enough to inflame her.

"N... no. We had t... tea and... Robert, darling, that feels divine... are you intent on driving me mad, or into sp... sp... spending, you rogue?"

"No spending yet, my love. As to madness... I've been there under your hand, so don't worry. I've been driven by the best, and I won't fail you. So you had tea? And then?"

It was useless. In her state of arousal, Victoria could barely speak, let alone think. She began to relate the afternoon as a narration of a series of pictures appearing in her mind, each lewder than the last. She was flowing now, and clenching desperately.

"She told me a story a... ah... oh, Robert you are so bad... you know I'm helpless like this..." His fingers had slipped higher and were now tickling her bottom hole - something he had never dared do before. She was mortified - and excited beyond reason by the unfamiliar feeling. She continued.

"She told me about a shop she visit... mmmm.... that's unspeakably good, you naughty man... That she visited in Chinatown... It had all sorts of... Oh!... OH! W... wicked things for sale. Things she described. Things I want to... t... to use on you... on her... R... Robert, I can't... s... stand it!"

Robert was now fully engaged, and intrigued. He was excited by the mention on Margaret's name in such a sexual context and by his wife's apparent attraction to her. Briefly, he imagined them in their bed, the two women clutching at each other in the throes of passion. He sought to prolong his little interrogation, since his wife was evidently too excited to realize what she was betraying. He continued his caressing games, sliding fingers along Victoria's nethermouth and slowly running his thumb back and forth across her bottom hole - which, he noticed, had started to twitch and soften under his slow tease.

"Shall I finger you, Viki?" He asked, lips still at her ear, whispering. "Do you want me to lick you? Tell me what you want, darling..." The response was instant, delivered between moans and pants.

" NO. I want you in me, Robert. NOW. Get the coconut oil..."

Robert was confused. "Sweetheart, I don't think we'll need oil. You're already drenched. And open..." She cut him off.

"I don't want you there, dear. I want you right where your naughty thumb is trying to go. I want you in my bottom. I want to feel you opening me. Stretching me out. I want you to use me, and use me hard. RIGHT NOW. Get your clothes off and GET THE OIL."

Stunned, Robert did what he was told; she had trained him well. Since he had been on the receiving end of her fingers many times, he knew what to do. Kissing, licking and nipping at the inside of her thighs and the ripe, open split of her bottom, he lifted her up and pushed two hard pillows under her. They bent her, raising her bottom to a lewd angle and lowering her head. He knew only too well what that position would do; how it would produce the most startling and lustful sensations. He lovingly pushed her thighs apart until they were at the limit of comfort, and then raised a glob of the quickly liquifying, slippery oil to the crinkled bud of her bottom hole. Much to his surprise, it dilated and the tip of his finger slipped into Victoria's pert bottom. Much more surprising was the long, hungry, lustful moan that came from his usually-demure wife.

He carefully rolled his fingertip just inside her opening, oiling and teasing her as her less-frequented altar of Venus spasmed, clenching and releasing his probing digit. He withdrew, prompting a whining sigh from Victoria. She really wants this, Robert thought. God, what did Margaret do to get her this excited? I have to know... He raised another dollop of coconut oil to her bottom, gently pushing more of it - and of his finger - into her. In response, his wife pushed herself back onto him, burying his finger in her dark passage as far as it would go. She moaned again, and he began to slowly stroke, spreading the oil inside her as she clenched and released on his fingers.

"Another," she whispered, her voice ragged with pure want. "More."

Richard complied, this time oiling his middle and forefingers. As he eased more oil into her, she moaned again and whispered "Oh! Yes, Richard darling. That's a g... good boy.

Now... oh!... o,,, open me... make me ready. I want you th... there..." and she began to pant as he rotated his fingers, scissoring them open, closing them, slowly stroking in and out of her bottom as she writhed and pushed back onto his hand.

By this point Elizabeth was beyond reason. The fingers in her bottom had been uncomfortable, even a little painful at first. This was a new act after all, and she didn't know what to expect. But as Richard continued his slow ministrations, her bottom began to clench on its own, dancing to some secret rhythm that only it felt. She had no control over what was happening; her nipples ached from their excitement and from being rubbed on the coverlet, her womanhood dripped with arousal and her bottom moved with a mind of its own. She was possessed by dark sensations, driven by a desire she could barely grasp. She knew only that it had captured her and that she was a willing victim. She moaned again, long, loud almost a howl.

"N... now, Richard! I want you in me! Now! Please...." The last word was drawn out interminably and ended in a sob. She was ready.

Richard did not keep her waiting, much though her wanted to tease her a bit more. Yes, he thought. That's exactly what it feels like. The want. The hunger. I should make you beg... But he was a gentleman, and she, his goddess. One did not keep a goddess in suspense, no matter how titillating the prospect. Maybe next time, he thought, withdrawing his fingers and moving between her thighs. Taking himself in hand he placed the tip of his manhood at her entrance.

"Let me know if I hurt you, dearest," he whispered. "I'll stop if..." She cut him off

"No more talking! I need you! Oh! Yes....." The last was drawn out as Victoria felt the pressure on her entrance increase as Richard began to push into her.

It was a foreign sensation. Instead of the enveloping welcome of her nethermouth, this route required the door to be forced. There was the bright, prickling feeling of a too-large rod being forced into a too-small hole and stretching it open, a feeling skimming the border between pleasure and pain; Elizabeth felt both and sobbed again, fisting the coverlet as her body was wracked with warring sensations. Then, Richard's tip popped through her ring of muscle and rested just inside her. She gasped.

"Does it hurt, dearest?" Richard whispered, worried. "Should we stop?"

Silence, save for great gulps of breath. Then, "D... don't you dare. But go slowly, please, Richard. You feel enormous this way... oh, yes, please....."The last a hiss as he began, ever so slowly, to inch himself into her.

Richard's mind was at war with itself. He knew better than Elizabeth what anal play did. Thanks to their favored method of intimate interaction, he was much more familiar than she with the way it turned one inside out; the feelings: blinding and hard and dark; the fear and triumph as the penetration was successful and the body surrendered. The submission. Even unbound, in this act there was profound surrender to the active party. It was part of what he had come to crave about the act. But what will this do to her, he wondered. Is she ready for the surrender of self? For the submission and acceptance? And what about after?

As he eased himself further into his wife, the action brought him sharp pleasure. He looked down and saw himself disappearing into her; felt the slippery heat and pressure, the spasms as her body gave in to the onslaught of his manhood. He heard her moans, loud, animalistic. Her gasps and incomprehensible pleadings and shouts. And then he was there: completely buried in his sweet, domineering wife's bottom. It was a heavenly sensation.

Victoria found her voice for a moment. "Move, darling. I.... I can stand it. I want it. Move. Please..."

Richard slowly and reluctantly withdrew until only his tip remained lodged within her. Then he eased back in, slowly but steadily this time. When he was buried again he didn't wait, pulling out and pushing back in with a bit more force. Elizabeth wailed, a long, low ode to overwhelming pleasure. When Richard withdrew and began re-entering, she raised herself and slammed back onto him, almost pushing him off-balance. Taking her fervor as a sign, his strokes became more forceful; for a time the room was full of the slap of flesh, of the panting and whispers of two people engaged in an intensely intimate act and the soft, sobbing cries of a woman walking the fine, bright line between pain and pleasure, debasement and freedom while she drowned in love and surrender.

Victoria surfaced again for a moment, taking great gulps of air as sensations warred within her. It was as though the power of speech had been driven out of her. Finally, between gasps and drawn-out moans, she managed "Darling, I... I never.... understood the... oh! Yes, like that! I never understood what you... what it felt like... sweet... sweetheart, you're going to make me... oh! Oh! When you do that, its like you'll come out my throat.... I'm... Richard, I'm going to spend..."

Richard had an inspiration through the haze of pleasure thickening around him. Summoning his firmest voice, he said "No. No, my sweet, not yet. Not until I say..."

The effect on Victoria was immediate and profound. Her back passage clenched hard at him. Her speech dissolved into moaning, panting and what sounded suspiciously like begging. Her aloofness, her power, her demanding demeanor, her prim correctness all evaporated as she pleaded for permission to do what she realized she was going to do, whatever Richard's command. Sweat coated her; her hair came undone. She was completely debauched.

Richard was as excited as he could recall being - ever. His wife, who he adored, idolized, worshipped, even - his demanding wife who lovingly whipped and tormented him when she wished - she was begging his permission to spend. And he could say no. But he knew he wouldn't, because he was in the same hair's-breadth-from-ecstasy that she was. So he did the only thing he could.

Reaching under his wife with both arms, Richard lifted her body at the armpits and pulled her back onto him as he thrust forward with all his power and impaled her on his staff. He whispered "Now, darling. Spend. Do it with me." And released himself into her.

Victoria looked as though she had been touched with a live electrical wire. She stiffened; her eyes flew open, unfocussed; her mouth formed the round "O" of the loudest scream ever recorded. But there was no scream. There was no noise at all. Her bottom clenched on Richard repeatedly, powerfully And then she collapsed on the bed again, utterly spent.

Victoria woke to a bedroom full of crisp early-morning light. She was dressed in her favorite night-dress and tucked under the warm covers of their shared bed - on which they had enjoyed a torrid and wonderfully taboo intimacy the previous afternoon. She sat up and found herself very stiff, as if she had played an entire three-game set of tennis against a very good opponent. Where is Richard, she wondered. Has he gone to work? Then she realized it was the weekend. She began to rise, but at that moment Richard walked out of their bathroom, buttoning up the top of his banyan, hair still a bit wet and disheveled.

"I'm sorry, darling," he said, his eyes shining as they took her in. "I didn't mean to wake you..."

"You didn't," she replied, smiling. But then... "How did all this happen? I don't remember dressing for bed."

Richard looked down; she could almost see the little boy in him, wilting from her implication. "You... you didn't," he stammered. "When we were... after we finished you were unconscious, or nearly so. I undressed you - your jacket is going to need some real cleaning by the way... I sponged you off with warm water, changed our sheets, dressed you and got you back into bed. You've slept quite a while."

Victoria looked at her husband with interest. I can't believe my luck, she thought to herself. "You sponged me off? You undressed me? You saw me naked, sir? Without permission?"

Richard was trembling now, stammering, looking at the floor. "I... you were... I thought you would be..."

"Yes, exactly. You thought. Dear, sweet Richard, how many times must we go over this? When it comes to me, I tell you what to do. And then you do it. You don't need to think. Now, what punishment do you think would be appropriate for your violation of my person? H'mmm?" Victoria looked at her husband steadily. He seemed to be beyond the power of speech, and at the mention of "punishment" he began wriggling like a puppy at the promise of a treat. Oh, this is going to be such fun, thought Victoria. She continued. "Perhaps I'll bind you and crop you - back and front. Or perhaps I'll use the carriage whip..." It was a favorite of hers: long, supple and very thin with a tiny slapper at the end, it left lovely marks on Richard's bottom... "Or maybe a caning. Special attention to your bottom hole. Would you like that, dearest?"

Richard was now beet red and quivering at the prospect of his wife's most elegant and delightful punishments. Everything she said inflamed him more and more. Now he was speechless - and rock hard.

Victoria took in the spectacle. It was powerfully erotic, the power her husband allowed her to exercise over him. And suddenly, remembrance of the night before washed over her: she agonizing pleasure and her love for him, so strong it was painful. She cocked her hip and struck her most coquettish pose. Reaching down, she took his chin between her right thumb and forefinger. Raising his eyes to hers, she smiled.

"No, Richard... considering the intense pleasure you gave me last night, I don't think pain is necessary - this time. I forgive you, but there must still be punishment for your infractions. Service, perhaps. Yes, I think so. Come up on the bed, my dear. Between my legs. Now, make me come until I tell you to stop. Oh, and Richard..."

He looked up at her angelic face, framed by her thighs and the twin peaks of her perky breasts. His eyes pled with her, but he was silent.

"Such a good boy for me. Darling, you may use your fingers."

Richard bent to comply, his heart full of love.

We have now quite obviously come to the end of a part of the story. I have my own ideas about the future of this foursome, but I'd like to hear from you about what you'd like to read. Should Victoria turn the tables on Margaret and dominate her as well as Richard? Or come to dominate all of them? She's very talented, after all...

Or will Margaret, cool, level-headed Margaret, use Victoria's lust against her, and come to dominate her friend and her husband?

Or will Charles discover the teasing and domination games, and come to be the truly dominant character?

Three possibilities. Tell me what you think.