Portrait of a Lady Ch. 02

"Beautiful sore."

"You were very good."

"It was easy to be good with you." I felt a hand sliding up my leg and knew it was Grace's. Harriet and I kissed as Grace did whatever she was doing between Harriet's legs and her finger found my cunt and teased it, entered it, but I knew her focus was on Harriet, whose fingers were doing delightful things with my nipples. I made sure to give as good as I got. There is something very special about that moment when a woman orgasms and her mouth is on yours. It's almost like she was sharing it with me.

Grace shuffled up by Harriet's side, the side opposite to me. She reached across Harriet to fondle my nipples while Harriet recovered.

"Lauren, go down on Grace." I got out of the bed, walked round to the foot of the bed and slithered under the duvet, between Grace's legs. She was wet, her lips puffed and welcoming. I licked her, teased her pee hole and clit, concentrating, hearing the noises as they kissed and enjoyed each other. Finally, Grace said, "Oh, fuck, that's so, so good," and her thighs tightened around my ears as she came, wet, lifting her hips and my head.

Grace left after we'd all showered in Harriet's vast walk-in shower.

Harriet and I took wine out into the mid-evening sun, as it waned, casting long shadows across her land.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel wonderful. You and Grace sit so comfortably together, and you both made me feel a part of you, not like some whore you'd invited in to liven up your sex life."

"So, you're ok with it?"

"I promised to be honest, and I am being. Yes, I'm more than ok with it."

"Grace and I have a lot of fun together. It's not a love thing, more a deep friendship and understanding. I think you and I are getting there too. Do you feel that?"

"Yes, I do."

"I've told you, I cant be exclusive. I think you understand. I hope you do." I said I did. "Some people want more than friendship and great sex. For me, friendship and great sex are pretty much perfect. Especially if the sex involves someone who enjoys my love of tears and screams."

"And Grace does?"

She pondered for a moment or two and I watched a rabbit appear from beneath a hedge and sniff the air. "Grace is, like me, someone who enjoys the whip. She likes it in her hand as I do but we tried it together, more as a sort of experiment so that, should the opportunity arise, we'd both know what our 'victim' was feeling, how well she was coping."

"Have you enjoyed other women together?"

"One. We've both enjoyed other women but most of them were uncomfortable about a threesome and that's fine. She said to me before she left that you seem to fit with me and with us perfectly. We both hope there can be more. But it is important to me that you and I go further together, without her." She was holding my hand as she talked. "Did i give you enough aftercare?"

"You did. So few people realise how important aftercare is. It tells me that the pain is your pleasure and if that were not the case I'd be off. Anyone who hurts like that without wanting it to be pleasure for the recipient too is just plain cruel."

"Neither Grace, nor I, will ever abuse you."

We slept together, sometimes entangled, sometimes not. When I awoke I was alone so I showered and put on a dress and went downstairs. The wonderful aroma of coffee hit my nostrils before ever I reached the kitchen.

"Good morning. You slept well." She was sitting at her kitchen table, wearing a soft, check pattern shirt and jeans.

"I did. Coffee smells good."

"Help yourself. You and I are going for a walk this morning."

"Will I be ok dressed like this?"

"Perfectly. It's a beautiful morning. I've packed a picnic in that rucksack. Think you can manage it?" I said I was sure I could.

We chatted a bit more and then, around 11, we set off towards the woodland in the corner of her land. The path led deeper into the woods, the sun filtering through the canopy, creating a dappled effect around us. We reached a clearing and Harriet said that this was where she liked to come for a picnic when she was alone.

"It's miles from anyone. I can sit here and think. I often masturbate here too. It's a place that is charged for me somehow." She opened the rucksack that was still on my shoulders and pulled out a rug and a couple of plastic containers and a bottle of wine. Easing the rucksack off me, she set it down and then reached inside and her hand emerged holding her 'go anywhere' implement, the tawse.

"Pour us some wine, Lauren, and we'll eat a little. I said I often come here and masturbate but, well, I hardly need to since you're here. After a light lunch we can enjoy ourselves."

So, we sat and talked and talked as we drank the light white wine and consumed the little delicacies she'd prepared. I packed everything away and, with her am around my shoulders, she pulled me to her and kissed me. "We're going to try an experiment. Do you remember where I like to use my thin cane?"

"About 3 or 4 inches down my inner thigh."

"Exactly. Well, we're going to see if this," here she lifted the tawse, "has a similar effect. Are you ok with that?"

"Yes, Harriet."

"Lift your skirt up and lie back." I did. She moved to kneel between my feet and lifted my left foot up and placed it on her shoulder. "Have you felt a tawse before?" I had. "Nasty little things aren't they? Did you know they were first recorded as being used by schoolmasters, mainly in Scotland?" I hadn't known that. "I bet they didn't use it here though."

As she spoke, her hand moved like lightning and the leather strap seared my thigh. I hadn't expected it and it took my breath away so much that I couldn't even cry out. She ran her hand over the red skin. Looking at me carefully, she asked, "Are you ok?"

When I had got my breath back, I nodded and said I was ok, yes.

"Just two for now. We'll see," she paused as her had whipped again and the little bastard bit into my skin. "We'll see how you feel if and when I get it out again." She eased my leg down then lifted my right foot and rested it on her shoulder.

"I thought you said just two?"

"It's the balance of nature, Lauren. Wouldn't be right for just one side to hurt would it? Where did you learn to paint?"

"i studied art at school and had a wonderful teacher. Then I went to art college and also worked with Gloria Neuman in Paris for a year."

"Oh, I love her work." The tawse leapt and, once again unexpected, made me gasp and close my eyes, my hands gripping the rug to help me avoid crying out.

"Didn't she paint Grace of Monaco?" You'd think we were having a perfectly normal conversation.

I nodded, trying to get myself under control. "Yes, yes she did."

"I saw it at an exhibition in London." The beast switched again and this time I couldn't help but yelp. I saw a look in her eye and she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down. She was hasty, a sense of urgency. Jeans off, she straddled my face. Her cunt was wet, she obviously genuinely enjoyed the pain, my reaction to it, and she pressed herself to me. "Make me cum, Lauren, it wont take long. Oh, yes, like that, work your tongue. Get your hands off! Just your face. Fuck, that's good, so good, yes, yes ..." and thus egged on by her words I was rewarded when her climax arrived, wet, messy, eerily silent. After a couple of minutes during which she just sat on my chest, she shuffled and letdown beside me, pulled me to her and licked my mouth.

"God, but I taste fucking amazing!" We both laughed.

This was on the Sunday, and we got back to her home about 2. Walking back, she had insisted on examining my thighs. "They look angry."

"They have every right to."

"Any higher and they'd rub as you walk. That would be unpleasant wouldn't it?" Yes, I thought, it bloody well would be.