That Christmas Ch. 04

There are three earlier chapters to this story... but it's a tale that stands on its own... enjoy, if you will.

Work on Tuesday was over in a blur; it was that day, during my after work lesson when, for the first time, I actually felt as if I had some control over a surfboard after I'd stood up on it. Geoff had warned me about my client this afternoon, but I was looking forward to expanding my sexual knowledge through any new experience. I genuinely didn't know enough back then about how weird some folks could get in their search for an orgasm... I was eighteen going on forty, thought that I was invincible and most definitely knew it all. Go figure.

I showered and shaved after the surfing lesson was over; Mum had pressed my jeans... again, and I had to spend five minutes getting the creases out of them - there was no way that I was going to wander the streets looking that uncool - what would the women think?

There was a tall hedge separating the client's house from the road and her neighbours. As I walked up the pink gravel driveway towards the flat roofed, thirties-style double-bow fronted house, between dotted lines of mulberry bushes and hydrangeas, I couldn't help but think that the legacy had done her well.

We delivered our bread and twice weekly pastries to a breadbox outside the back door. Geoff had told me to ring the front door bell this afternoon. I did and waited... and waited... it was a string and spring bell which could be easily heard where I was standing. There was no way that she could not have heard it; maybe she was in the bathroom. I'd leave it another little while before I rang it again. From the porch looking outwards I noticed a flagstone and gap path leading across the lawn to a rockery clad pond attended by a large garden gnome frozen in the act of reeling in a fish. Beyond the gnome against the tall hedge, there was a line of white marble statues in various heroic poses. The place was plush. I thought that it might be worth trying to get a little extra for whatever it was that she wanted me to do.

Miss Stickland. Well she sure looked different away from work; gone were the half-rimmed spectacles and hair pinned strictly in a tight bun at the back of her head so that, from behind, she looked like she had stapled her hair down. At school she was renowned for a reckless attitude towards the generous applications of detention classes. She always wore plain dark skirts which dropped in straight lines to the floor, plain high necked blouses and (even in summer) waistcoat and jacket. Her skin always looked as if it had just been scrubbed and then left unadorned by makeup.

I was good at maths and was never at the bad end of her temper, but even I remember wondering if she was as mean to her boyfriend as she was to the guys at school.

There was time enough to survey the entire garden before I heard her loud footsteps coming across a wooden floor in the house. I turned before she opened the door... and nearly didn't recognise her. I could feel that my mouth was wide open, was aware that I probably looked like a gormless prat, but couldn't do any more than prevent myself from drooling.

Her hair was long and wavy, held back from her face by a flowered hair band - but hold on I'm starting at the wrong end... at least not from the end that first caught my attention. Her feet were shod in shiny black patent leather, open toed slip-ons with a four inch heel. Now she was very nearly the same height as me. She also wore seamed black stockings, so fine a denier that I remember that they seemed to shimmer.

I tried to drag my gaze upwards, but my body wouldn't respond at any more than a crawl as I feasted myself on her. I can remember it as if it was yesterday, not forty years ago. She was wearing an almost skin-tight dress that hung to just below her knees; it was shiny and black too, fitted to her slim waist to accentuate the curve of her hips. From there on up it just didn't stop getting better. It had a button-up front that was hardly being used at all - it was only closed to just below the centre of her black bra which I could see below the valley of cleavage, between breasts at least a million times more noticeable than they'd ever been at school.

Her skin was tanned and taut, only interrupted by the thin straps which both hid the lines of her bra and held the entire... creation up. Her hands and forearms were covered in posh, black, sequined, evening dress style opera gloves; in the hand that wasn't holding the door open, she held a ten inch long ivory cigarette holder containing a pink cigarette with a gold filter, a tendril of smoke curling upwards in the stillness of the air in her hallway. She was dressed more sexily than Emma Peel.

Her hair hung down in shimmering waves to her shoulders, framing a face with faintly rouged cheeks and flaming red lips. Her eyes shone with a liquidity to their blueness that I have never seen since. My God, I almost fell in love in an instant - cast to the winds was any thoughts of Gwendolyn, gone all plans for any future past right then. It was hard not drooling, believe me it was hard.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "I was just getting things ready upstairs."

"Miss Stickland. I-I... um..."

"Thomas, Thomas. You must call me Linda. 'Miss' makes me sound so old. Please come in. Would you like a drink?" She paused, and then said, "I'm having a dry martini..."

I'd never had one before, but I'm up for trying anything. "I'll have one of those then, please."

I closed the front door behind us and followed as she led me across a vast hallway that held a very impressive stairwell. She was in the money... deep in it, the place had half oak panelled walls below enormous paintings of generals and their like in ceremonial uniforms mostly on horseback amongst a scattering of women's portraits. I noticed them in an instant, which was all I was sparing from the rest of my attention which was concentrated on the view of her from behind. The dress clung to her body in a manner more dazzling than any iridescent carapace, highlighting the slimness of her waist and the fullness of her hips as she walked one foot in front of the other, sashaying from side to side; she knew how good she looked and was playing it up to the 'nth degree. But hey - I didn't care. Right then I'd have followed her through an active minefield with overlaying crossfire, and not have noticed anything else but her.

She led me into a drawing room decorated with ultra-modern cubist furniture and contemporary paintings on the walls to a drinks cabinet hidden in a large antique looking globe.

"Olive?"

"I don't know... I've never tried one."

"Then this will be the start of a number of firsts for you this afternoon."

She turned back to me and passed me a glass shaped like something from a cocktail party in a James Bond movie; there was a toothpick in it that held two dark green spheroids. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with them, so decided to follow her example and to do whatever she did with hers. The martini was sharp... now I know that it's called dry, but then I just thought that it was like a sharp electric shock on an alcohol cushion. The olive was strangely salty and yet undeniably moreish?

She watched me for a few moments before speaking. "Do you know what it is that you're here for?"

I swallowed another mouthful of martini and smiled, "Anything that the customer desires."

Her smile was radiant. "Now that's the sort of answer that'll get you far in this life Thomas. Shall we adjourn to my playroom?"

****

Her instructions to me, given as we climbed the wide and twisting stairs, were precise; the implements required hanging on the walls or lying around the large room. This was an eye opener, like nothing I'd ever experienced or even imagined.

Linda had removed her dress and was clad only in a black suspender set, g-string, demi-bra and spiky high heels; she was on her hands and knees on the red latex covered floor. Her eyes were shrouded by long blinkers, preventing her from seeing any direction except ahead. There was a halter made of leather around her neck and an arrangement of reins held a jointed bit between her teeth and under her tongue. On her back I'd placed and then secured a dainty lightweight racing saddle with stirrups held high as if she was a filly to be raced; there was only one further thing to do to complete the first part of her wish.

She parted her thighs as I pressed the flexible, well oiled leather end to the real horsehair tail against the delicate crinkle of her arse. She made a very horse-like noise, pushed back against my hand and in it slipped... until there was only horsehair showing and she had a tail, hanging chestnut brown against the ivory shade of her blemish free skin. Again she whinnied, this time tossing her head, making the metal bit clink inside her mouth.

"Whoa, easy there, girl."

I stroked the smooth skin of her neck as I spoke, walking round until I was standing in front of her. I held the reins in one hand and reached for her mouth.

"Let me see your teeth now... you're a very pretty filly but I have to check your teeth out before I'll pay such a high price for you. Can't have a pretty old mare being passed off as a young filly, now can we?"

I knelt down in front of her, holding the reins low while reaching for her lower jaw. I put my fingers into her mouth, applying pressure to her tongue, stretching her mouth open, feeling her rear teeth as I ducked my head to examine the front ones.

"Young and pretty," I said, "and broken to a light saddle so they tell me. Let's see you walk; I'm not going to purchase anything that's even a little lame."

I stood and pulled gently on the reins leading her in a circuit of the large rectangular room, stopping by the low-level water filled trough before looping the reins over her head and dropping them onto the saddle.

"Good girl, drink if you're thirsty. You are just what I need to add to my stable, a fine filly of good stock to breed from."

Dropping back to my knees I ran my hand over the taut curves of her backside and down the back of her leg, back up to follow the flat of her stomach and along the curve of her ribcage to the swell of her breast. As I did she shuddered and her eyelids drooped down until her eyes were half closed; a line of dribble escaped over her tongue and dangled from her bottom lip swaying back and forth until it hit the latex floor. I walked behind her and used both hands to part the cheeks of her arse, below her tail, I could see that the meager gusset of the g-string was soaked almost to dripping and the nectar from her pussy was streaming down both inner thighs.

"It looks to me as if you've come into season on your first day here. Well, I've got a stallion that will see you right. As soon as he gets a smell of what's leaking from your pretty little cunt I think that you'll be in for a nice welcoming surprise."

As I was talking I divested myself of my clothing and as I finished talking I knelt behind her before ducking my head under her tail and turning it until my open mouth was parallel to and level with the labia that I could see pressed against the lacy crotch of her panties. I bit at them with my teeth, holding onto their sides with both hands until the flimsy material tore into tatters, and then disintegrated in the face of my actions. I threw the remnants off to one side before sucking both down-covered lips into my mouth; her whole body shivered.

I pulled my head away from her pussy and moved closer to her while reaching for the reins, pulling them low and backwards. My actions forced her rear end towards my waiting erection; once, twice I thrust just to slap my cock against its slippery target before it slid forward beyond to rub against her stomach. She emitted another horse noise and on my third thrust she twisted and pushed back and down forcing my dick into her. It was heaven right here on earth, the hot moistness of her want gripped my manhood like a suction tube. I pulled back and thrust again, deeper into her this time and again. At the sixth I was fully inside her, my torso pushing down on her tail, twisting its leather end around in her arse as I bottomed out against the depths of her sweet cunt.

The next movement in and out sent her over the edge and she started to orgasm, flooding my thighs with her juices and jerking her mouth against the reins until her cheeks were stretched back and her face formed a toothy grimace.

I rode on and she kept coming and coming, as I built up speed she snorted and whinnied, pushing back against me, bucking and twisting so that the leather handle proscribed a wider arc inside her beautiful arse. Even as I was preparing myself for what was building into a life-changing orgasm, I remembered more of her instructions.

With the reins held tightly her chin was pressed into her chest, she strained against such restraint until, using the loose looped leather end of her rein with my free hand, I started to lather the tensed skin of her backside. With the fifth strike and the addition of another raw red line against her skin she reared backwards until the saddle was pressed against my chest, her beautiful face sweat covered, and her mouth flecked with spittle from our exertions, her teeth were bared and cheeks drawn back by the rein. Her hair lay damp against the back of her neck – resembling a mane for the first time since my arrival. The rough horsehair of her tail slapped my right thigh with its straggly end and ground itself into my stomach as I felt my balls shrink in readiness.

I saw stars... genuinely... I saw stars as my cock spurted inside her again and again, coming so hard that you'd have thought I was trying to redecorate the inside of her chest in shades of jism. As I came, she calmed, pressing herself back against me until I had finished. Once I was done she pulled her crotch away from me, causing her to start to judder again as she dropped, supine to the floor, spreading her legs and dry humping her cunt against the latex floor covering.

****

Watching her there... saddled and reined, her beautiful behind rising and falling as she slapped her crotch , by then releasing my spunk in slow dribbles, against the latex floor, caused my dick to stop its shrinking at half mast before starting to regain its hardness again. I walked away to pick up the envelope that contained the remainder of my instructions.

A tall glass of light summer cider was waiting for me in the fridge which stood behind the door to Linda's playroom; I drank it as the instructions had said then continued to read down the short list that the envelope contained. Linda was becoming increasingly noisy, her crotch making a slapping noise against the nectar which had gathered there from her pussy.

The instructions needed no extra explanations; I remember thinking that Geoff was probably correct... this seemed to be getting 'unusual' - but then I thought what the fuck, she was the most perfect woman I'd ever seen naked and she was rude.... rude and dirty. I checked and discovered that reading the instructions hadn't got rid of my hard-on; what turned me on couldn't be bad could it - between two consenting adults, whatever it took to get her off seemed fair to me.

"Stand up!"

In the blink of an eye she'd stopped her dry humping and was standing gloved hands at her sides. The stirrups and reins hanging lower still.

"Strip!... from the floor up!"

The tone of my voice must have been perfect for her scenario because she actually shook as she quickly obeyed, heels first, then stockings and suspender belt. She couldn't undo the straps that held the tiny saddle with her gloves on and it was like watching a scene from a kinky version of Breakfast at Tiffany's as she removed them, pulling them off in a movement turned languorous by their length. There followed a muffled clank , lost in the huge room, as the stirrups hit the floor, the sound deadened further by the saddle landing on top of them. Then her bra was dropped onto the pile and seconds later the reins and bit topped the stack of discards.

"The tail too!"

It seemed to me that she was unnecessarily rough removing the leather handle from the confines of her butt...

"Don't drop it... pass it to me."

The leather handle still felt oiled in my hand; for a fleeting moment her eyes met mine as she passed her tail to me, there was fire and daring in that look. But only for a moment before she remembered her instructions and her eyes dropped to look down as her hands fell back to her sides.

Naked she was magnificent, without the up-thrust of the half-cup bra her tits looked smaller, barely the size of a teacup standing firmly against her upper body; her areola just a couple of tan shades darker than the flawless ivory of her skin like highlighting for the longest hardest looking nipples I'd seen... before or since. Her chin was down and her eyelids lowered, the red marks on her cheeks from my rough handling of her reins were harsh in contrast.

"Suck this!"

I forced the leather end of the tail between her teeth and into her mouth, still with her chin down as I let go of it, the long strands of hair hung down to hide the cropped hairs of her muff as she held the handle in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she obeyed my commands. I let her suck away for twenty seconds... it seemed longer in that now quiet space.

"Drop it!" I walked to the high-backed High Wycombe chair in the bay window and sat down. "Here!" My head was almost in a spin with the feeling I was getting... a grown up under my control a servant to my will, a slave of my whim... my recent sexual experiences had left me feeling daily more empowered, but this?... this was something else. She was mine in a way nothing in my life had ever been before and the power I felt seemed to surge through my cock.

Her bare feet made a slapping noise against the latex as she approached me.

"Kneel!"

She needed no further instructions; in one continuous flowing motion she knelt and leaned forward between my knees to take the end of my cock into the round shape of her mouth. She still hadn't looked up at me since she'd passed me her tail, now she raised her eyes again. The look therein had changed, gone the fire and derring-do, replaced by the dull glaze of contented total obedience.

Again I visited new heights of the power that sex can take a person to; as the back of her hands ran up the inside of my legs from the floor to my groin where her fingers cupped my balls while her thumbs reached around my dick, pulling its base away from my body and its mushroom head against her palate. Hey eyes never left mine. Now as I write this memory down I wonder why I felt no sympathy for, or empathy with, that lost look. But I didn't; I just felt as if that look and her actions were filling my being with a surge of power. There was actually a buzzing in my ears in the few minutes that I lasted before I felt the onrush of my second orgasm.

Even after she had sucked my dick dry , her head continued in its bobbing up and down and her fingers continued to massage my scrotum until my dick went into a full retreat. Just before I was going to tell her to stop as I became over-sensitized, she let my shrivelled little man out of her mouth and, still shuffling on her knees, made her way back across the room. While I caught my breath she pressed the play button on a tape recorder before shuffling back to the centre of the red latex floor where she sat on her heels, hands and forearms flat against her thighs to knees...eyes down again.

Slowly the sound from the tape builds up, unobtrusive at first, gently weaving its way into my awareness, the sound of running water, a stream or river babbling over pebbles, dropping over a weir. It didn't take long for the desired effect; I stood and walked over to her.