That Christmas Ch. 02

... this is the second chapter in this story and though it is readable on its own, I believe that you might find the first part is worth reading first.

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Nancy's house was on a much more affluent part of our bread round - detached houses with gardens and driveways, properties with garaging for more than one vehicle in an era when far fewer than half the households in the country had even one. When we delivered the bread each day it was to the back door, the tradesmen's entrance as it was known back then; I parked my bike against the wall and knocked.

My eyes bulged out of my head as she opened the door... Nancy was in her mid-forties, an old lady to a teenager like me, but this afternoon she was wearing nothing - except a broad engraved metallic collar with a purple velvet lining and a lead. As I closed the kitchen door behind me, she dropped to her hands and knees. Her skin seems just slightly too large for her body which , though it wasn't what you'd call lithe, was less elderly looking and certainly less fat than Vera. Her tits were smaller and her skin unblemished by the blue vein markings of my earlier conquest/client. Her hair was longer and more coiffed - held up in a bun shape on the back of her head.

"Master, I've a confession to make... I've been bad."

Until an hour ago I was a virgin and nothing in my life had prepared me for this. I stood there as she crawled to me, to kiss the toes of my (then very fashionable) Chelsea boot. She licked her way to the side zipper before gripping it in her teeth and pulling it down; she repeated her action again and I stepped out of my shoes. With one hand she passed me the end of her lead before leading me out of the kitchen, through the hallway and into the sitting room.

Laid out at either end of a plush sofa are the accoutrements of her intentions for play before her husband gets home from work at the bank. I recognise the riding crop, but have never seen tawse or paddle before. There is a razor strop and a bamboo cane with a steel tipped ferrule and a walking stick handle. As she comes to a stop, she hangs her head and speaks quietly.

"The master will want to beat his little slut, she's been bad..."

Though I wasn't sure of what her intentions were, the sight of the curve of her backside and her hanging breasts were definitely encouraging my cock to want to get involved in one way or another. I dropped the leash and reached over her to the riding crop, the twisted leather was cool against my palm but seemed to me to fit exactly into my grip. I felt a surge of horniness; power welled through my youthful body tensing my muscles and sinews. I brought the floppy end of the crop round in an arc to slap against the top of her behind, causing her to jerk forward and up slightly before a moan escaped from her lips. I was just about to apologise when she hissed her next words from between clenched teeth.

"Thank you Master, another please... harder!"

The following stroke left a red stripe across both cheeks, paralleled by the next... her reaction was to moan her next thank you and just to spit out another please after the third. My dick was trying to force its way through the material of my boxers as a kind of lust, unfelt before, coursed through every blood vessel to fill my mind with a dominance it had never felt before. So quickly that my actions filled the still air with a whistling noise I added three more stripes to her arse. Her knees gave way and she fell onto her face as an orgasm ripped its way through her body.

I was so virginal back then that I was at a loss as to what to do next and as her orgasm subsided I asked her what she wanted me to do. She raised herself back onto her hands and knees gulping air into her lungs, as she looked at me I saw that her makeup and mascara was streaked by the sweat pouring down from her brow.

"Would the master like his cock sucked by his slave-slut? Or maybe he can tell that she deserves to have her tits beaten with the thick leather tawse? Just tell me what it is you want me to do? Maybe you've decided that I am even naughtier for coming without your permission."

I reached for my belt and dropped my trousers; immediately she turned to kneel before me and without further instructions pulled my engorged member through the buttonless fly of my shorts. Her mouth is at the perfect height and she guides me into it, holding the base of it in both hands as she slides my manhood deep into the wet welcoming warmth of her .

For some reason it feels weird to be half dressed whilst she is sucking me off so to alleviate that feeling, as she continued, I removed my tee shirt. I threw it to the floor and as I looked down I saw that she was gazing up at me as my her head bobbed up and down on my prick.. I didn't understand the expression on her face but felt once again another huge surge of empowerment as she did.

My cock had never felt so huge as her cheeks hollowed to suck me back in after each upstroke... I reached for her and gripped both sides of her head before starting to thrust back and forward in time to her efforts. She let go of my dick with her hands and they reached up for mine... not to get me to let go but to instruct me in pulling her on and off my cock using handfuls of her hair. I was at the beginnings of an orgasm, starting with that empty feeling as if a void is being created below the vee of my sternum; unconsciously I sped up with my thrusts, and in response she gripped slightly with her teeth. Just below the pain /pleasure threshold it increased the sexual tension deliciously and I felt my ball bag shrink against my testicles in its normal prelude to coming.

My head lolled back and I closed my eyes, fucking her face faster and faster... my cock jammed hard against the roof of her mouth as the first spurt bursts forth. One of her hands cupped my balls, gently but with steadily increasing pressure squeezing them, timing her squeezes for the gap between each spurt as she continued to suck, milking me into her mouth. I couldn't stop the satisfied groan that I emitted as she went on, after the third spurt she pulled herself off my cock dragging herself against the pressure my hands are putting on her hair and aims the last of my come at her upper face. Two bobbled strands of white across the bridge of her nose and closed left eye against her streaked makeup and into her hair. As my orgasm subsides she rubs the last dribbles of my spunk into the soft skin of her cheeks, still milking me but more gently as I moaned in post-orgasmic bliss.

She stands and guides me until I was sitting on the centre cushion of the long deep blue velour sofa, before sitting flat on the floor facing me at my feet. After three orgasms in an hour and a bit, I realised that my dick was starting to wilt and for a second I was worried that maybe she would tell Geoff that I hadn't fucked her well enough and my avaricious dreams would remain unfulfilled. She reaches for the razor strop and for a moment fear flashed through my mind. She was after all probably less than ten years older than my mum - and if my mum ever picked up a razor strop then boy, oh boy, was I going to take a beating. I hadn't needed one for years, but that didn't stop me remembering those I'd received.

Nancy spread her legs out in front of her until her feet were touching the sofa either side of mine, her eyes are imploring as she folds the strop in two...

"Tell me which bad things I must punish myself for, please Master."

I hesitate for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts and compose myself for the next part of her games. In the gap she spoke again.

"Two for interrupting the masters' thoughts."

The doubled strop whistled dully through the air to land with a loud slap, first across the upslope and nipple of her left tit and then to my absolute amazement an overhand swing between her open legs against the trimmed dark hair and the swollen weeping lips of her pussy. If anything the second slap is louder. As she squealed in pain at the second I can see the two inch wide impression being formed in deep red on her boob from the first. The squeal is followed immediately by a snort as she thrusts her groin upwards, so close that I see the details of a cunt for the first time in my life.

I reach forward and take the doubled over strip of coarse leather from her, noticing the excitement then bewilderment in her eyes as I drop it on the sofa next to me.

"Stand slut."

Without a sound she complies, hands at her sides head held down in obeisance. I pull her forward until she has to stand astride of my knees before ducking my head down to more closely examine her. There is a slight fluffy down covering of almost translucent hairs which cover her stomach leading down to the groomed and sticky triangle of coarser, darker hair which covered her pussy.

"Let me taste you."

Her left hand reaches round her, over the slightest bulge of her belly to spread her labia with her first and little fingers, dipping the remaining two into the moist centre... there isn't a sound as they invade her body to the knuckle; she lets go of her labia and twists her hand before sliding her fingers, now slightly curled, back out.

"Master."

Her head was still bowed as I took her two fingers into my mouth and sucked the taste of her cunt into my mouth. There was no taint of piss to the flavour, just a sweaty sweetness, with the slight stickiness of a warm honey. I bit down on her fingers to scrape off her essence; as I did she shudders and a gentle moan escaped her lips. As I pushed her fingers out of my mouth with my tongue she dropped her carefully manicured hand back to her side. The taste had reawakened my lust and my dick was once more erect - before I could think what to do next she had turned away from me, bent forward at the waist and gripped the calves of each leg. The red lines from my ministrations with the riding crop glow at me over the taut blemish free skin and I can see a drip of her inner essence gather on the end of one of her pubic hairs. I captured it with my forefinger, greedily sucking it into my mouth.

"Please, please Master... the cane... make me come... spare not your strength and offer your slave no mercy or pity."

Suddenly something clicked inside my head; I stood and looked back at items on the chair, a smile on my lips as I thought of a number of possible next moves.

"Did I tell you to bend over? Stand, slut, and put your hands on your head."

She did as she had been told without a sound. I added anger to the tone of my next comment.

"I asked you a question slave. A slave that does not do as she is told is not punished, but sold. Do you wish to remain my slave?"

Nancy didn't look up at me as she turned to answer, her words came quietly... she had been subdued. "Yes please, young Master... I am sorry. What is it that you want me to do next?"

I picked up the tawse from the chair; I'd never handled such a thing before, a five inch twisted leather handle, twice as thick as the riding crops leads into a four inch wide, half inch thick strip of dull tan leather. Its twenty inch length is split in four for the last three inches. Its size gave it weight in my hand.

"Stand still!"

As I walked behind her I saw her tense her muscles, readying herself for the blow that she was expecting... but I do nothing. She liked the pain, needed it ... what about the torture of teasing? I saw her relax slightly after the completion of my second circuit around her; as quickly as I could I lashed out behind me ... the tawse landing flat across the firmness of her upper chest, just on the slope of her breasts but mostly across the lowest parts of her neck. For a further five minutes I continued to walk around her, noticing the redness that the tawse had caused deepening to an almost mahogany hue.

A short shriek had been forced from her lips by my strike, but she stifled it, breathing in huge snorts through her nose as the pain subsided. There was an almost constant dribble from her pussy onto the carpet between her feet matched by the dribble of pre-come that having her under my power was causing me to leak as I walked. On the next circuit I rubbed the pre-come over the bulging helmet of my bell-end and on the one after I wet my entire left hand by rubbing it over her pussy from behind. At my touch she starts slightly, but I do nothing to her in the next couple of circuits, just rub her juices over the length of my cock.

From behind I push her forward.

"Bend over; grip the back of the sofa."

As she did I picked up the cane, her breathing increased as she noticed my actions. But it's a false alarm; I had decided to tease, so I dropped the rod quietly onto the carpet behind me. I slapped the insides of her thighs with the tawse in my right hand as a signal that she should spread them for me... again she complies without a sound. The hair which covered her pussy is slick with the leakage from her cunt, her vaginal lips rounded and blood-filled, pushing them out in a mound at just the right height for my cock.

I was rough with her as I forced myself into her warm moistness, burying myself immediately to the hilt inside her. She makes no sound as I leant forward and forced her to support part of my weight on her lower back. She gripped me like a warm wet glove, pulling back at me as I slid almost all of the way back out of her. I was not gentle with her... just not as rough as she wanted. She started to push back hard at my thrusts into her... I stopped and withdrew for long enough to slap the tawse hard against the side of her right teat.

"This is not for your pleasure slut... you will not come without my permission... do you understand?"

Her answer came out on a deep sob of breath. "Yes Master... I understand... I am sorry."

She hadn't finished her reply before I'd rammed my cock back in as hard and as fast as I could, once, twice, three times. I rock from side to side on my hips as I plunged in and out of her gripping internal muscles... she gasped for control as I gripped her arse cheeks and slammed in and out with a rotary motion, my fingernails dug into her stretched skin making highlighter points amongst the thin tram lines of red that the riding crop had caused; she screams in frustration.

"Let me come, I beg of you Master, let me come."

I didn't slow down in my thrusting as I growled my answer to her, "Only when I say.... if you come, I leave and never come back..."

I couldn't believe that I had lasted so long when I felt so turned on, but I was performing like a stallion and plunged on and on, my balls slapping the hood of her clit with each thrust.

"Ooh god, oh god, ogodogodogod!" She was spitting words out so fast that they ran into each other; I could see the red of her face as sweat poured down her... her muscles were shaking and she bit her bottom lip hard enough to cause a drop of blood to form thereon.

I pulled out of her and a deep moan was forced between her teeth.

"Come now, slut..."

I change aim and with one thrust I forced my cock up through the resistance of her sphincter ring, all the way in. As my balls hit the wetness of her pussy my orgasm arrives with her shrieks and I held myself inside her arse pumping and pumping until I was drained. I felt her cunt spasm beyond the thin membranous wall that separated her pussy from my cock as she came and came and came.

"In my bottom, oh Master...thank you, Master!"

Ten minutes later, after I had given her instructions to carry out before our meeting the next week at the same time, I was walking my bike back up the road supping a bottle of Nancy's old man's beer, with another two quid in my pocket. You could say that I was feeling chuffed with myself as I set off for that days surfing lesson.

That night in the pub my mates all said that I was acting differently - my attitude to the women there was different too. I knew that I had something that at least some of them wanted, and I wore that knowledge like a badge that only they could see. That night I met Gwendolyn.

Five foot six, fiery red hair and blue eyes, she was wearing the latest fashion: a white plastic mini-dress, above the knee white boots, big heart shaped shades and a floppy hat. Twice I caught her brazenly eyeing me up; unlike every other guy in the pub, I was in no particular hurry to get her kit off her. I'd already come four times that day - but I was the one who walked her home that night and arranged to see her after the football match on Saturday...

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... To be continued...

Thanks again to Hotti for allowing me to utilise her skills as an editor...