Read Online Past Present by Secret Narrative - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Secret Narrative
Tags: BDSM, threesome, Older man younger woman, anal sex, spanking, group sex, oral sex, voyeurism, contemporary erotica
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belief in myself, working towards a shared goal for whatever lies ahead.
I imagine Matthew and me in a little rowing boat on the lake in the mist; we will populate the lake with rowing boats for hire. I picture him handing me down onto the swaying, bobbing deck, our weight causing uncertain movement to and fro as I settle onto the seat opposite him. He takes up rowing position, and I recline, trailing my hand gently on the mirrored surface of the deep, dark lake. Staring into the wispy, swirling mist, soon to be burned away by the rising sun as Matthew splish-splashes us to the copse where we alight.
On the bank, in the early hours he watches as if he is many miles distant as if he has shipped oars, is drifting, watches me give in to pleasure, swept away by a heady combination of love and lust. Sees my fingers blur. Hot, wet depths eager to be filled, aching with need. We inhale, exhale as if on a single breath until my panted gasps give warning and I come for him as if he is inside, looking deep into my eyes.
Tearing myself away from the vision, adding rowboats to my wish list, I turn over the handwritten note he slipped into my pocket. His list for me, my tasks, set by him, for our mutual pleasure. I break the seal. A rich, scarlet roundel of wax, Matthew delights in writing his commands for me on perfect parchment, folded in three and sealed traditionally, using red sealing wax, with no need of an envelope. The seal remains unbroken until I am ready.
He ordered a unique seal emblem custom made, and relishes using the deeply engraved brass seal, etched with our entwined initials. I think of history lessons at school, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn’s initials entwined and carved as an everlasting symbol of their love, ultimately doomed. I suppress a fleeting shudder of apprehension and break the seal.
I learn so many things about Matthew from his task list, his distinctive hand pleases me; my heartbeat plucks at my ribs as I read…
Eleanor’s Task: Figging
My darling, Eleanor … For this task, you must carefully insert a small dildo into your pussy and a butt plug in your bottom. Imagine I have kissed the tips of both before you slip them in, lubed of course. Then, go about your daily business for as long as possible before the delicious torment means you have to stop and masturbate. Find me; I will want to watch when you are ready for complete relief. A variant on this task: figging. Carve a piece of ginger into the right shape and carefully put it into your bottom. When you can bear it no more, I want you to find me, wherever I am in the house, whatever I am doing, whoever I am with, you will kneel and beg me to remove it. Yours always and forever, Matthew.
I refold the note and head to the kitchens to find a root of ginger in eager anticipation of doing my Lord’s bidding, molten at the core of me…
The Diary Room
Setting everything in place in the diary room, Eleanor sat and looked out of the casement window. Originally built for fortification, the restoration so in keeping, that there was nothing to choose between ancient and modern, the priest’s hole the perfect place for Eleanor’s journaling.
“Oh, Matty, you made me jump.” Eleanor worried her necklace with slim fingers. Each pearl a perfect match, the strands pristine, a gift from Venice, she wore them as often as possible. Loving the way the beads warmed against her skin and retained their heat when she removed them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I called out. I keep forgetting how little sound travels here. The walls must have muffled me. God, but the meetings were tedious, and everything took such a long time, but everyone is happy. They’re going to send over the inspector, probably next week, make sure we’ve met all their requirements. Bloody nuisance, we’re doing them a favour, the place was a crumbling heap before I bought it. Have you been terribly lonely?”
“No, not really, but you know I always miss you when
I imagine Matthew and me in a little rowing boat on the lake in the mist; we will populate the lake with rowing boats for hire. I picture him handing me down onto the swaying, bobbing deck, our weight causing uncertain movement to and fro as I settle onto the seat opposite him. He takes up rowing position, and I recline, trailing my hand gently on the mirrored surface of the deep, dark lake. Staring into the wispy, swirling mist, soon to be burned away by the rising sun as Matthew splish-splashes us to the copse where we alight.
On the bank, in the early hours he watches as if he is many miles distant as if he has shipped oars, is drifting, watches me give in to pleasure, swept away by a heady combination of love and lust. Sees my fingers blur. Hot, wet depths eager to be filled, aching with need. We inhale, exhale as if on a single breath until my panted gasps give warning and I come for him as if he is inside, looking deep into my eyes.
Tearing myself away from the vision, adding rowboats to my wish list, I turn over the handwritten note he slipped into my pocket. His list for me, my tasks, set by him, for our mutual pleasure. I break the seal. A rich, scarlet roundel of wax, Matthew delights in writing his commands for me on perfect parchment, folded in three and sealed traditionally, using red sealing wax, with no need of an envelope. The seal remains unbroken until I am ready.
He ordered a unique seal emblem custom made, and relishes using the deeply engraved brass seal, etched with our entwined initials. I think of history lessons at school, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn’s initials entwined and carved as an everlasting symbol of their love, ultimately doomed. I suppress a fleeting shudder of apprehension and break the seal.
I learn so many things about Matthew from his task list, his distinctive hand pleases me; my heartbeat plucks at my ribs as I read…
Eleanor’s Task: Figging
My darling, Eleanor … For this task, you must carefully insert a small dildo into your pussy and a butt plug in your bottom. Imagine I have kissed the tips of both before you slip them in, lubed of course. Then, go about your daily business for as long as possible before the delicious torment means you have to stop and masturbate. Find me; I will want to watch when you are ready for complete relief. A variant on this task: figging. Carve a piece of ginger into the right shape and carefully put it into your bottom. When you can bear it no more, I want you to find me, wherever I am in the house, whatever I am doing, whoever I am with, you will kneel and beg me to remove it. Yours always and forever, Matthew.
I refold the note and head to the kitchens to find a root of ginger in eager anticipation of doing my Lord’s bidding, molten at the core of me…
The Diary Room
Setting everything in place in the diary room, Eleanor sat and looked out of the casement window. Originally built for fortification, the restoration so in keeping, that there was nothing to choose between ancient and modern, the priest’s hole the perfect place for Eleanor’s journaling.
“Oh, Matty, you made me jump.” Eleanor worried her necklace with slim fingers. Each pearl a perfect match, the strands pristine, a gift from Venice, she wore them as often as possible. Loving the way the beads warmed against her skin and retained their heat when she removed them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I called out. I keep forgetting how little sound travels here. The walls must have muffled me. God, but the meetings were tedious, and everything took such a long time, but everyone is happy. They’re going to send over the inspector, probably next week, make sure we’ve met all their requirements. Bloody nuisance, we’re doing them a favour, the place was a crumbling heap before I bought it. Have you been terribly lonely?”
“No, not really, but you know I always miss you when
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