Victorian Diaries Ch. 02

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Young mistress visits another city & finds trouble.
3.6k words
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Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/17/2003
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drysi
drysi
3 Followers

***Months Later***


Entry IV
Dear Diary,

He's coming this afternoon! Oh, I thought the waiting would never end! That business trip to France; I have been going mad left alone, with only his little notes and presents arriving by poste. I've cleaned the flat and filled it with flowers, and laid out His robe by the door. Oh, diary, I am like a schoolgirl again. See how my hands tremble as I write this!

I spent the morning in the bath, with lemon juice and milk to whiten my skin even more the way he likes it. And shaved. I confess I will not miss shaving myself with that straight razor, now he is home to do it for me! He is home! Oh, I am singing to myself again. My hair is up and curled, the hairdresser smiling knowingly at the brightness in my eyes, the easy colour in my lips and cheeks. She told me I look like a woman waiting for her lover. How perspicacious!

Dressing now even as I write - oh, what to wear. I know that I will greet him at the door on my knees as he enters, for after being away from he so long all he will be thinking of is the feel of my mouth on his prick. The way I suckle him, fondling his balls... He loves that, he says. I love it too, though I shall look forward to doing it later by the fire when it will last longer. If he does not cum quickly the first time, I shall not think he missed me!

He likes the coral colour on me, he says. He admires the contrast with my hair and skin. I shall wear his favourite corset in that specially dyed Cordoba leather, with the rings. Since he's not expected home until Friday, I shall have him all to myself and I know he will want to play. (And, no doubt, to see if I have been following his orders while he has been gone.) And stockings - the new silk ones he sent. And where did he find these clever heels with the strap and ring about the ankle? I hold them tight to my chest, imagining him in the shops of Paris, finding what he wants to see me in and sending it. To know that he truly thinks of me as I do him!

I shall have to purchase a bottle of champagne, and another of ruby port. Mm..I hope he lets me taste it on his skin. I purchased a bottle of sweet almond oil, for after his games are done to massage him and soothe the aches of traveling and exertion. I so love it when he falls asleep in my arms, still holding my leash. That smile on his face; oh, Diary, I am so much in love with him. It has been just over a year. The best of my life.

But I must go. I cannot have him catch me unprepared!
His Mistress


Entry V
Dear Diary,

Well, here we all are in Bath. Unexpected, I know. He has arranged for this lovely hotel for me, nicer than the first place he found last year when we came. I signed in, noting with pleased delight that he had used his own patronym, leaving the maitre d'hotel to presume I am a sister or cousin, perhaps. Not that I care what the man thinks, as I am sure that these sorts of arrangements are commonplace. But it was a thrill to sign my name with his, and I think a tacit apology on his part that our time together was cut short by this sudden trip.

I love Bath. I know he does not, but there is something in the holiday atmosphere, with children playing and smiles everywhere.. I go walking every morning, just to look at all the people smiling and be one of them. The gardens, the air of hope that the waters will be beneficial, even the looks of relief on the faces of the old as the warm soakings offer ease from joint troubles. The buildings are long and elegant, the streets so much cleaner than London.

This morning I walked by the cafe where we met for luncheon last May upon the first trip. I hope we can meet here again some time this journey. I stopped and looked over the wrought iron fence into the outdoor dining area, remembering that tea. We were like children, playing at being adults because it kept us from sinking then and there onto the bricks of the terrace. I remember his laughter at my attempt to eat strawberries and clotted cream in an exaggeratedly lascivious fashion.

Later that boat ride down the Avon, where I acquired my first and worst sunburn in years. Rowing the small punt down to a nice place to anchor. Of straddling his cock with my skirts pulled up as he sat on the bench. Oh, so slow and gentle we had to be, with the boat rocking so! Afterward shifting to the bank where I gathered moss stains on my favourite ivory crinoline as I lay back and let his tongue and fingers drive me to frighten the birds away with my cries. It was a springtime idyll so soft and perfect.

But I should come back to the present, Diary, and tell you of the train ride. He secured for me a berth in a sleeping car not far from the club car. I ate in my room, of course, to avoid meeting up with the family, then dressed in the simple silk robe and dark blue corset only he says he prefers when traveling for simplicity. My collar around my neck, I left the leash hanging over the door latch as I was unable to gauge his mood from the brief glance upon boarding as he shepherded the masses into their family car.

A click, and the berth door slid open. He entered quietly, latching the entrance behind him before turning in the limited space to look at me. I greeted him quietly, rising from the bunk to slip my arms about him in a long embrace, which he returned. He inquired about my dinner and accommodations, and I reassured him that as ever, his choices for me were to my complete satisfaction. He sat down on the bunk, but as I knelt before him to perform my usual first service he shook his head no and pulled me down to sit beside him.

Oh, Diary, he looked so tired and strained to be traveling again so soon after returning from Paris. I brushed my fingers lightly through his short dark hair, before slipping behind him. Carefully I removed his Norfolk jacket and waistcoat, and receiving permission the masher and tie as well. Folding them aside, I began to work at the knots in his neck and shoulders. He likes my strong hands, and I enjoy touching him this way, too. Oh, to be honest I crave any contact at all with him. He leaned back against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his solidity against my softness as my hands continued to press. I whispered finally that I would like to just give to him tonight, if he would let me. He smiled, 'I am in your hands, my Lady.'

Trousers, socks and boots joined the neat pile on the chair, and I urged him to lie face down on the bunk as I rummaged through my valise for the almond oil. (Along with two other items I thoughtfully pulled out and placed out of view.) The oil warmed between my hands, I straddled his ass and leaned over to begin stroking the muscles more deeply. I think he chuckled a little to feel the dampness I cannot hide against his skin, and I bit the back of his shoulder in quiet retribution for the teasing. He relaxed slowly and I took my time, working along down his arms out to each finger, leaving a kiss on the fingertip before moving on to the next.

The constant rumbling of the train began to work with me, and he was lulled to nearly sleeping as I slipped down along his thighs to start working at his buttocks. I love the flare of his lower back, the rounded curve of his arse where it meets his thighs. More oil, and he moaned a bit as I parted his legs to kneel between them and worked out still more knots in his arse and hips. A brief clenching of the cheeks, and I smiled as I knew his arousal was starting to stir more fully. I parted, kneaded, stroked his cheeks, until my touch lightened from the constitutional to the more enticing, letting a thin short stream of oil drip down along the crack to tease along down to the scrotum. My finger followed the stream, pausing to rest upon the puckered star in a silent question.

'Yes,' he whispered. 'You may.' Permission enough for all my plans, I thought, as I pulled out a cushion to ease under his hips. One oil slick hand brushed along his prick, straightening the curve to lie against the cushion's surface, and it jumped slightly in my fingers. I rolled my thumb through the layer of oil glistening there, and laid a kiss at the apex of that valley as I pressed the pad and first joint of the digit into his tight heat. He clenched around me at the invasion and I left my finger still as I gently fondled and spread the oil lower and along his balls and thighs.

His legs parted still further and he moaned my name as I pushed in a little further, beginning to tug slightly at the ring of muscle to stretch it. I withdrew once or twice, adding more oil to keep everything smooth and gentle, one more massage into laxity I was determined to use the toys I had pulled out. The first, a long and slender wand of Moroccan leather, replaced my finger unexpectedly, and he didn't seem to notice until it pressed in deeper than my thumb can reach. Another groan, lost in the noise of the train, and I worked him with the leather and my hand curled under between his legs.

A finger joined the leather after a time, still slow and gentle though I could feel his excitement growing with the sheen of perspiration along the flesh of his back and legs. A kiss on each buttock, and the first dildo was slipped out. Don't stop, he commanded breathlessly, starting to push against the cushion beneath him. I'm not, I whispered. Just getting more oil. Spreading it along the carved ivory dildo of much greater thickness he had found I don't know where. Two fingers, three fingers, and then the head was slipped in before He knew what was happening.

Three inches pushed in, and he froze in shock and erotic discomfort. 'Stop. Its too much.' Shh, I whispered, slipping a hand down to stroke at his stiffened cock again. Just relax. Let me make you feel good. Open to me.. I was half chanting this, over and over, by the time his head fell back to the bed and he called me a bitch in a very unconvincing voice. I chuckled, working the ivory in deeper. Matching the slow strokes with my hand. Kissing, licking, and biting at his ass cheeks, the oily taste of almonds heavy on my tongue.

It was too much, and he shouted as he convulsed, spilling his seed in a river over my hand and soaking my pillow. The dildo I pulled out slowly, lest the pain of stretching overshadow the utter relaxation and limpness that overcame him. I dropped the two toys in the basin, and stoppered up the bottle before kneeling over him and nibbling at the back of his neck.

He turned finally, his arms locking around me and pulling me to his chest in a vise like grip I had no desire to try to break. He held me like that for a long moment, before whispering that he should go. I nodded and let him rise, helping him dress again. The pillow he picked up and moved to the normal position, asking that I sleep with his spending there against my cheek. Then he kissed me long and deep, fingers locked in my hair before pulling abruptly away and disappearing out into the corridor.

The rest of the trip was short, and I slept through it entirely with the smell of him in my nostrils.

His Mistress


Entry VI
Dear Diary,

I'm back in my room at Bath. Oh, what a morning! I received his note that I would be attending church, and which of my more respectable gowns he required me to wear. I dressed with great curiosity, for he has seldom wished me within line of sight when his family is about him. But I went and waited outside in the covered carriage as he asked as most of the people filtered in. I saw him through the curtains enter with his family early, then come out to mingle and chat with a few of the other gentlemen before breaking away to wander toward my carriage.

He entered, demanding roughly that I kneel on the seat as he pushed my skirts up high to reveal my bare bottom. With a few sharp slaps he seemed to vent some inner turmoil, and I bit hard on the upholstery of the seat to keep from crying out. No sooner was my flesh throbbing from his hand than I heard the rustle and then felt his hard cock pushing into me from behind.

No subtlety this time, diary, he was almost perfunctory as he pulled himself hard into me, grunting. He came in spurts and quickly, only to withdraw and wipe himself on my thighs. 'You will not clean yourself. I want you to feel me dripping between your legs through the entire service, and sit where I can watch you if I choose. We are on the back right.'

And he was gone, climbing out as if nothing had happened. The smell of us was strong in the enclosed carriage, and I was sure the driver knew what had happened though he was paid well for his silence. Still, I entered after the last of the bells had ceased, and found my way to the left front on one of the side pews. I felt his eyes on me constantly, and it was an effort not to press my legs closely together to keep the oozing from pooling on my skirts dripping down into my stockings. I know I blushed, for the homily of the day was a directive to lead a virtuous life.

The gentleman next to me took a decided interest in both my décolletage as well as my slightly mussed hair, and decided to lay his hand on my leg whenever we were seated. Or did he smell my Master's leavings upon me? It was mortifying! He whispered he would see me again, and I drew away as much as I could considering the way we were packed into the pews.

And my Master started to glare from the back. I've a very bad feeling about things.

His Mistress


Entry VII
Dear Diary,

I write upon you sprawled across the bed in my room here at Bath, for there is no other comfortable way to recline or sit. I think I have for a while exorcised the demon riding my Master's shoulders, though this time the cost was high in discomfort after. Not during, though. No, then it was pain I endured gladly, knowing in the end it would bring him peace.

I fear the man I sat with in Church is someone of great importance, whom my master will have to appease for some argument. He arrived at my rooms unexpectedly, and I hurried to throw myself at his feet, kneeling as he prefers with my legs spread. (At least I was appropriately attired, but I always am, while traveling with him. One never knows!) He closed the door and stared at me for a long while, and I kept my eyes lowered as I offered to take him in my mouth as usual for our greetings. He agreed, a hand in my hair, but started talking as I unfastened his trousers to free him. Saying such nonsense that I was too beautiful, he should hide me away that none might see or covet. Nor did he seem as eager as usual, worried distraction in his eyes.

Still, I licked and suckled for a while until, dissatisfied with this, he let go and stepped back. Then indeed I knew something was wrong, Diary! Still I hurried to make him welcome in other ways, taking his coat and offering a soft robe in return. Putting out a small repast. Then it was that I came upon my plan, for how to truly help him find peace. And I became..disobedient in small ways. Subtle things, designed to build upon one another. I sat immediately as he did, as his equal. He frowned, but let it pass. I started a mindless chatter about the sermon that day, the people, and the dresses the ladies were wearing this season. More frowns, and his answers became monosyllabic. Still not enough. I closed my legs as I sat, turning away from him now and again to feign disinterest.

This was the final straw, I think, for he stood abruptly, his chair falling back. A hand in my hair, and he dragged me down to the carpet. 'How dare you,' he hissed. The look in his eyes daunted me for a moment, as I think he was seeing someone else. I hope he was. Still, I protested, lifting a hand to his to say him nay, stop.

Like a whirlwind, his anger was unleashed. Pulling me by the hair, he dragged me over to the bed and bade me kneel beside it. Quickly were my wrists lashed together and to the bedpost, a wooden stick with rings and clips put between my ankles to spread them apart by the high shoes I wore for him. I trembled there a little, glad to be giving him an outlet he needed. Still, the first whack of the crop as it came down on my ass made me jump and cry out. Enough so that he found a gag for me, slipping the leather bulb inside my mouth before wrenching the buckle closed behind my head. Helpless and silenced but for moans, he rained down blows upon my ass and thighs, even upon the tops of my breasts where the corset leaves them exposed. Oh Diary, he has never punished me so hard.

When I was red and sobbing, and I admit my tears freely, for the pain was like nothing ever before, he finally stopped to throw aside the crop. Lifting my hips then with his hands, he thrust hard, dry, into my ass, stretching and burning as he reamed me from behind. Deep down at the core of me I rejoiced, for even in this act I knew that the worst had passed. The anger was gone. Still, his short, sharp thrusts were another kind of pain until he stiffened, a couple jerks deep inside me heralding the spending deep into my bowels. I hung there, impaled for a moment before I felt him let go my hips and start to untie my hands.

In silence he released me, keeping me with him as he made me bend so stiffly to undo the rings at my ankles. Walking me forward, the two of us eased onto the bed, my anus throbbing in dull pain about the thickness of his shaft. He laid on his back then, me half sprawled on top of him with tears still flowing. A soft kiss, then, on the side of my neck, and his hand started to caress. One freed the weight of my breasts from the top of the corset, starting to toy with the nipples as the other slipped down to fondle my clit.

He knows so well how to touch me, Diary, finding traces of dampness between my legs to wet the pads of his fingers and so lightly stroke my pearl into a stiff peak and beyond. He knows I cum so quickly this way, with him buried in my fundament with soft forward stimulation. It took but a few minutes before I was trembling, quivering, while those feather light caresses combined with a hard pinching of my nipples. I came loud behind my gag, convulsing forward into his hands as he kept at it, bringing me over and over until I was limp and near crying again for different reasons.

Then he released the gag, gently extricating himself. I lay there on the bed while he went to wash, and returned to gather me into his arms. Such peace then! There was nothing but soft silence, and he started to apologize to me. I stopped him with a hand to his lips, and whispered nothing but the truth, that I was glad he was more at ease, content now. At last he realized what I had done, that my driving him to madness was deliberate. And he held me very tightly for a long while, until I fell asleep with exhaustion.

His Mistress

drysi
drysi
3 Followers
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