The Lady of the Manor Ch. 02

The following Friday Caroline called me at work. She sounded awful: croaky and hoarse. 'I'm so, so sorry Thomas darling but I've got this dreadful lurgi and it's knocked me flat. So I'm going to have to put you off this weekend. I am sorry. I'll make it up to you next time, I promise.'

I was disappointed. I had been looking forward to a repeat, possibly with variations, on last Sunday's activities. That left me free for the weekend, if you didn't count the stuff I still needed to do to my bungalow. So when a group of lads in the office suggested a pub crawl in the centre of Bath on Saturday evening I agreed. It wasn't exactly my thing; a few pints in a country pub after a long walk was more my style, boring as that may sound. I knew the novelty of traipsing round a succession of city pubs while my work colleagues became more and more drunk and boisterous would soon wear off, but I wanted some company, to compensate for not having Viscountess Baythorpe. And besides, I could dip out any time I wanted and take a taxi home.

The evening, having started early, progressed predictably. At eight-thirty we were in a place on the outskirts of the city centre which was slightly quieter than the previous six establishments. Too quiet for the lads, in fact, and they bolted their pints and made to leave. I signalled that I was done for the evening and after the usual ribald remarks and cries of "lightweight" they stumbled through the door and I was on my own with three-quarters of a pint left in my glass and nothing much to do for the rest of Saturday evening.

It wasn't a big place: a modest and largely empty lounge bar at the front and a function room at the back. The connecting door was open and I could hear, and partially see, that there was a pub quiz going on. After a few minutes the quizmaster announced the half-time break and people started trickling in through the connecting door. Presumably there was no bar in there. I'd fallen into a sort of reverie where I was imagining all the positions and places that I'd like to fuck her Ladyship, and where I might tie her down next. I was trying to visualise how she'd look strapped to the big kitchen table when I was startled by someone talking to me.

'Thomas Bailey! What on earth are you doing in here all by yourself on a Saturday evening?'

I looked up and met the gaze of the Baythorpe Manor estate manager, Claire Downing. I hadn't seen her since that first visit to Baythorpe, and then only for a few minutes. Clever of her to have recognised me I thought, inconsequentially. I hadn't taken too much notice of her on that occasion having been nervous about meeting her Ladyship. I'd taken in black hair and a pale complexion and, I now recalled, a trim rear end, but little else. 'I was on a pub crawl, with a few people from work,' I explained. 'But they were hell bent on getting drunk and going clubbing so...' I shrugged.

'Not your scene then,' she smiled, and I had my first proper look at her: deep blue eyes in a pale, oval face with full lips and a straight nose all surmounted by collar-length raven-black hair. She wasn't beautiful, but she was attractive and her figure was nice: slim, long legs and a neat bust.

'Not really,' I replied. 'Especially the clubbing bit. I'd rather have root canal treatment.'

She laughed and nodded towards the function room. 'Pub quiz more in your line is it?'

'Definitely.'

'Well, come and join us. Our team's one down and it's sport next and we haven't a clue. And I seem to remember her Ladyship telling me that you used to be a professional rugby player.'

I blushed. 'That's over-egging it a bit,' I said as I allowed myself to be taken into the function room and installed at a table with a man a few years older than myself and several middle-aged ladies. Introductions were made and the quizmaster appeared shortly afterwards and the second half of the quiz got underway. I won't bore you with the details but I did acquit myself creditably on the sports round and, partially as a result, our team came second, which was apparently their best ever result. The middle-aged ladies finished their drinks and left and Claire and I and the other man, whose name was David, chatted for another half an hour or so. Then he stood up and thanked me and said his goodbyes and left. I was a bit surprised, and pleased; I'd imagined that he was Claire's date.

My surprise must have shown. 'Did you think David and I were an item?' she smiled.

'Well,' I mumbled, embarrassed again, 'it's none of my business.'

Claire laughed. 'David has a partner. He's called Trevor.'

I asked Claire if she would like another drink and we talked about books and music and my bungalow and her job at the Manor and friends and families and the time passed very agreeably until closing time.

'Can I walk you home?' I asked, feeling rather old-fashioned.

'If you like,' grinned Claire. 'It's only about five-hundred yards.' She had the top floor flat in a Victorian terrace and we stopped on the gravelled driveway in front of the big communal front door. 'Thank you,' she said, showing no inclination to invite me in. 'I've enjoyed talking with you. It's been a nice evening.'

There was an awkward, pre-parting pause. 'Would you like to go out for dinner some time? Or just to have a drink?' I'd rehearsed what I was going to say but it hadn't come out very smoothly.

'Like a date?'

'Yes, if you like.'

'Mm. No offence but I'll need to think about that.'

I handed her a business card, slightly piqued. In my experience "I'll need to think about that" meant no. 'Well if you would like to, give me a call.' I pecked her on the cheek and left, wondering where I was going to find a taxi.

My phone rang the following afternoon as I was plumbing in my new washing machine. I didn't recognise the number and nearly didn't answer it.

'Hello?'

'Thomas?'

'Yes.'

'It's Claire, Claire Downing.' I gulped. 'I think I'd like to take you up on your offer of dinner, if it's still on the table, as it were.'

'Of course! That's great!' We arranged to meet at a pub in Bristol and eat at a nearby Italian restaurant the following Friday evening and I went back to my plumbing with a light heart and a spring in my step. Having riotous and kinky sex with a fifty-something Viscountess once a week was fantastic but it really wasn't the same as having someone that you could appear in public with and go on holiday with and that sort of thing. And besides, Caroline had specifically said that she wouldn't mind my having a girlfriend. Then I realised that I was probably jumping the gun; we were just meeting for dinner after all.

Friday came and Claire and I met in the Bishop of Bath and Wells public house, a noisy and crowded place on this early summer evening. The conversation was a little bit stilted and I think we were both relieved when it was time to go to the restaurant where we were shown to a quiet table in a corner.

She looked good, that first evening. She was wearing minimal and restrained make-up and a knee-length red dress, which allowed me a peek at her legs, which were slim and shapely. We ordered pre-prandial drinks and looked at each other across the little table.

'Why the change of heart?' I asked.

She appeared to consider the question. 'Not really a change of heart. There were a couple of things I needed to get my head around before I agreed to a date with you, Thomas.'

'Tom, please. And what were they, if you don't mind me asking.'

'Well firstly your age. You're a few years younger than me, I'm guessing.'

'I'm twenty-five.'

'I'm thirty-one.'

I shrugged, to indicate that it was of no importance. 'And the other?'

She smiled slowly. 'I was a bit worried about the impropriety of dating someone who's screwing my employer.' My mouth half opened in astonishment and I stared at Claire, temporarily unable to speak. 'It's the CCTV,' she said. 'It was installed by the late Viscount but I don't think Caroline knows a lot about it.' I still said nothing, although I remembered to close my mouth. 'There are hidden cameras, installed over all the external doors, they're motion sensitive so they only record when someone comes to the door, or leaves,' she explained. 'I check them sometimes in my office. And a few weeks ago, lo and behold, Mr Thomas Bailey started turning up. And staying overnight.'

My pulse was returning to normal and I took a sip of the iced water the waiter had brought. 'So why did you agree to a date, if you knew I was screwing your employer, as you put it?'

'Well I could say that she's my employer and I have a duty to look after her interests and find out what's going on and so on but that would be terribly pompous, and only partly true. I was curious, I suppose. Also,' she blushed, making her look ridiculously pretty, you're rather my type.'

This time she did invite me up to her flat and, as soon as her front door was shut behind us, she grabbed me and kissed me hard. I responded, feeling my erection growing and we made our way to her bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing across her hall and living area. It was a bit like my first time with Caroline. Claire wanted it there and then, with minimal foreplay. By now we were both naked and I could see that her body was magnificent: pert, upturned breasts, taut stomach and slim hips and a raven-black pubic bush. I entered her without preamble and she gasped and wrapped her arms and legs around me. Her cunt was wet and hot and tight and I proceeded to fuck her hard and fast as I had fucked her employer that first time. We kissed as we fucked, lips, necks, cheeks, ears. Then my climax was building and she seemed to sense this.

'Not yet, Tom. Turn me over.' I pulled my cock out of her and she scrambled onto her hands and knees, her shapely bottom pointed at me invitingly. I entered her again, deeply, and she groaned and frigged herself with one hand as I shafted her sopping twat.

We came at the same time. I gasped and jetted my spunk into her and she screamed and thrust her hips back at me and then it was over and we lay side by side, almost embarrassed by the rawness of our sex and the speed with which it had happened.

'Well at least I now know what her Ladyship's getting,' said Claire, after a few minutes silence.

I spent the rest of that weekend with Claire and we walked and talked and made love and cooked together in her tiny kitchen. Claire told me that she had been employed as the estate manager for four years and enjoyed the job immensely. 'I really admire Caroline. She does a lot of good stuff in the community. And she's still a striking looking woman. I can see why you're attracted to her, despite the age gap.'

'How old is she?' I asked. 'If that's not betraying a confidence.'

'She's fifty-eight. I only know that because I've renewed her passport. But she could pass for less. And she's so elegant and she dresses so stylishly.'

'Sounds like you fancy her yourself.' We were lying in bed on Sunday afternoon, a post-coital lassitude upon us.

To my surprise Claire appeared to consider the question seriously. 'Yes, I suppose I do, in a way.' She paused, her head on my chest, tracing one of my nipples with a fingertip. 'I mean I don't think of myself as bi or anything but...'

'Yes?'

'Well, I suppose that if she'd made a pass at me instead of you I'd have... responded. Does that turn you on?' she asked, noticing that my penis was rising gently to attention. 'Shame to waste it,' she said, getting to her knees and straddling me.

We'd only made love half an hour previously but Claire seemed aroused by the turn the conversation had taken. So was I. She sank down onto my cock and started thrusting her hips backwards and forwards, grinding our pelvises together, rubbing her clitoris against my pubic bone. I took her hips and urged her on.

'Does Caroline like this position?' she gasped.

I had resolved not to speak to Claire of such things but this was different, I told myself. This was an exciting game and one that could lead anywhere. 'Yes, she likes it,' I grunted. 'It makes her come a lot.'

'What else does she like?'

'I can't tell you!'

'Oh God, please tell me! I'm so excited!'

'She likes me spanking her...' At that point Claire's orgasm hit her and she threw her head back and screamed and rode me in a bucking frenzy that made me come too, a very unusual occurrence for me in that position.

Claire climbed off me and lay down, her head on my chest. 'Do you really spank her?' she asked.

'Yes,' I confirmed, 'quite hard. It makes her bum ever so red.'

'What else do you do?'

'Look, Claire, I've already said more than I should...'

'I'm not going to tell anyone. She's my employer, I have a loyalty to her. And I like her and admire her. I'd never compromise her. I'm very discreet.'

I knew I shouldn't really say anything else but I was caught up in the moment. 'She likes me to be a bit rough with her. So she likes the spanking and being tied down--'

'She likes bondage! No! Really? wow! Sorry, go on.'

'Well that's it, really. I tied her down to her big four-poster last Sunday and she loved it.' I decided not to say anything about having anal intercourse with Caroline. That would be a betrayal too far.

Claire carried on probing but I said nothing more. 'Are you going to tell her about us?' she said, finally.

'Do you want me to? I don't mind; Caroline made it quite plain that she was happy for me to have a girlfriend.'

Mm, I'm not sure. No, go on, tell her.'

'Should I tell her that you know about us?'

Claire thought for a moment. 'Yes, tell her that, too. It'll be interesting.'

I left Claire soon afterwards and drove home to my bungalow. As I got in my phone beeped at me indicating a text message:

Dear Thomas,

I'm feeling so much better! I think it was just a twenty-four-hour bug. Can you come over this evening? I know it's short notice, again, but it would be wonderful to see you. Obviously you'd have to punish me severely for messing you about once more...

Caroline xxxxxx

I'd spent most of the weekend screwing Claire but hey, I was twenty-five and besides, what else could I do other than go to Baythorpe Manor? I texted Caroline, showered and went straight over. She was waiting in the porch with the big oaken front door open. I bundled her in and kicked the door shut then grabbed her and kissed her and roughly groped her breasts, holding her hands behind her back with one of mine.

She was dressed beautifully, as always, in a cream woollen dress and flesh-coloured seamed stockings. The sight of the seams sent quivers through my cock and I kissed her harder, mashing our mouths together, squeezing one of her breasts until she squealed with pain.

'Get upstairs.' I hastened her on her way with a smack on her bottom and followed her as ran up the stairs and along the corridor to her rooms. 'Now get the handcuffs, the butt plug and the lubricant,' I ordered her, once we were inside. She disappeared into her bedroom without a word and reappeared holding the items. 'Now bend over the back of the settee.' She did as she was ordered and I quickly secured her hands behind her back. 'Right, this messing me about has to stop,' I said, strolling around the settee as she tried to follow me with her eyes, 'or I'm going to have to punish you very severely.'

The Viscountess whimpered. 'I'm sorry Thomas, darling. I've been poorly.'

I ignored this and stood behind her, stroking her bottom and raising her dress half-way up her back. She was wearing white lingerie with her flesh-coloured stockings. I pulled down her panties and she flinched, expecting a blow to her buttocks. Instead I massaged the milky mounds, stroking my finger down her arse crack and making her flinch again. Then I saw the riding crop. It was sitting on a chair by the bedroom door and I immediately knew that Caroline had put it there so that I would notice it, and use it. I walked over as she watched me and picked it up, swishing it through the air.

'Oh God, Thomas, please don't hit me with that!'

I put it down on the settee, right by her head, and picked up the bottle of lubricant. Slowly and methodically I squeezed a blob of the stuff onto my fingers and rubbed it around her puckered little anus. She shivered and moaned. I squeezed out more and slid my middle finger inside her, working the lubricant round, then adding another finger. She gave a little scream as the second finger went in so I slapped her buttocks with my free hand. 'Don't make a fuss.'

Then it was the turn of the butt plug. As before I was gentle, pushing the tip lightly against her sphincter until it started to go in, then keeping up a very slow pressure as the shaft got thicker and her muscle ring stretched more. She gasped as the thickest part went past her ring and moaned as the muscle closed around the base. I wiped my fingers on a towel and picked up the riding crop again.

The first stroke was very gentle and she said nothing. The second was harder and the third much harder, swishing down to crack on her pale bum cheeks and leaving a red welt. Caroline cried out and called me a bastard so I whipped the crop down on her other cheek, then back to the first, then the second again...

I stopped after about ten blows. Her buttocks had parallel lines of welts on them. Angry and red. I thrust my hand between her legs and felt her wetness, her arousal. Undoing my belt and trousers with one hand I positioned myself behind her and thrust my seven inches of rigid cock straight into her titled cunt. The Viscountess thrashed her head around and gasped as I fucked her ruthlessly with long, hard strokes. Then I was out of her and hauling her up from the settee, pulling her knickers up and thrusting her towards the bedroom door. I guided her to the bed and took off the handcuffs. 'Get your dress and knickers and bra off.' Caroline obeyed meekly, not meeting my eye. I threw her unceremoniously on the bed, on her back, and secured the straps to her wrists and ankles, pulling them cruelly tight as she arched her back and moaned, saliva at her lips. If she wanted it rough and dirty, that was how she would get it. I hadn't finished with rough, yet; dirty would come later. Kneeling over her face I pushed my cock past her scarlet lips and started fucking her mouth, making her gag as I got five or six inches inside her. It occurred to me at that moment that if the Viscountess wanted me to stop there wasn't much she could do in the way of letting me know, her arms and legs being strapped tightly down and her mouth full of my cock. I slid out of her mouth and, without further ceremony, rammed myself into her pussy, feeling the butt plug through the walls of her vagina. She gasped and opened her eyes wide as I started fucking her cunt hole, leaning over to kiss her and bite her neck, holding her head still with a handful of her ash-blonde hair.

I think she had an orgasm at that point because her vaginal muscles seemed to grip me tighter and she groaned loudly and closed her eyes. So I stuck my cock back in her mouth and fucked her there for a couple of minutes then back to her cunt, thrusting hard, knowing that, after at least two orgasms with Claire earlier today, I would need additional stimulus to achieve a climax.

So, after about the third invasion of her mouth, I unbuckled the straps around her ankles and lifted her stockinged legs up and over so that her knees were practically touching her tits, admiring the line of her stocking seams against her perfect thighs and the base of the plug protruding from her anus. Holding her legs against her chest with one arm I gently extracted the butt plug and threw it on the floor next to the bed. Then I reached over to her bedside table and grabbed the lubricant, squeezing a dollop directly onto her rosebud. She squealed and tried to free her legs so I smacked her arse and she went limp.