‘I hate these things,’ I said miserably as we drove down the lane.
The sky was blue and cloudless. It was going to be a beautiful day and I could see the church spire peeking over the trees as we drove towards the village. There were hedgerows and trees along the winding country lane that led down the hill to the quaint village near to where we lived.
‘Derek,’ my wife said succinctly, ‘stop moaning!’
‘But, these garden parties are terrible! Everyone from the village and surrounding estates comes to hob nob and outdo each other. And Vicar Robinson is a weak chinned…’
‘Derek!’ Leila adjusted her sunhat. ‘We must go! The village expects it!’
‘I’ll hear no more about it, thank you! Now, hurry along as we don’t want to be late!’
Sullenly, I drove until we turned into the leafy lane that led to the church and the Vicar’s house. I parked the car under a broad Elm tree.
Leila hurried to the gate and, sighing, I trudged after her. I could hear laughter, snatches of conversation from behind the hedge, and knew I was in for a boring afternoon.
I couldn’t have been more wrong!
The garden gate opened with a squeak and I looked around at the groups of the usual suspects who scrambled for social status in our small community. The women were wearing either pastel summer dresses or frocks with large floral patterns. They all wore floppy sunhats and some even wore white gloves.
The men wore suits, as I did and I wished I were home in front of the tele or sitting in my garden with a whiskey. Leila was in deep conversation with the Vicar’s wife when I walked over to them.
‘Good afternoon, Derek,’ the Vicar’s wife said, greeting me with a perfunctory peck to my left cheek. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Yes but allow me to fetch them,’ I said gallantly. ‘Drink, my dear?’ I asked Leila.
Armed with orders for white wine and dry Sherry for the Vicar’s wife, I walked into the house.
The Vicar was struggling with a champagne bottle.
‘Here, Vicar,’ I said, taking the bottle from him, ‘allow me.’
‘Thanks, old boy. Can never handle those dashed things. Quite a turn up, eh?’
‘Looks like the same old faces,’ I said, popping the champagne cork.
‘Well, yes, I suppose so. What can I get you?’
‘White wine for Leila and your wife will have…’
‘I know, I know,’ he laughed, ‘a dry Sherry! What about you?’
‘I’ll have a whiskey, if you’ve got some going.’
‘Of course, old boy.’
He gave me a wink and balancing the glasses I walked back towards the two women.
The Vicar’s wife was delivering some information she thought was vital.
‘So I just had to invite her, Leila.’
‘Of course,’ my wife said, taking the glass of wine from me without a glance, ‘you had no choice.’
‘It’ll be helpful for us to look her over, so to speak.’
‘Look whom over?’ I asked.
‘The new owner of Acorn Cottage.’
‘That’s been sold? I didn’t know,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ Leila said eagerly, ‘and purchased by a single lady from the city!’
‘Single!’ emphasised the Vicar’s wife.
‘Well, she’ll find it boring here!’
‘It’s not boring, Derek,’ my wife admonished me. ‘We love it here and wouldn’t live anywhere else!’
You wouldn’t, I thought miserably but I bloody would!
Thankfully, I escaped to the City one or two times a week. Taking the train early in the morning and returning late in the evening.
This was the second marriage for both Leila and me and we were childless. It was Leila’s idea to move to the country several years ago and I found I could work from home most of the time and only had to travel to London a few times to see clients.
Then, when the boredom set in, I began travelling to the city more often each week. Leila didn’t mind as she was totally immersed in the village life, particularly the social side.
Now that she was chairman of so many committees, she was almost as powerful in the village social hierarchy as the wife of the Vicar.
‘Lady Ashcroft has arrived so I must say hello,’ the Vicar’s wife said to Leila.
My wife eagerly followed her and I wandered over towards the hedge
Standing by myself, sipping my drink and watching the social butterflies, I turned slightly and saw a voluptuous woman in a dark blue dress standing near the gate and talking into her mobile phone. She was hatless and carried a glass of white wine in her other hand.
At first, I was vaguely curious and then my heart almost stopped as I recognised her.
Quickly, I turned around so she wouldn’t see me. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding.
Last summer, when my wife had gone to Wales for a week to visit her sister, I had spent the night in London. It was the opportunity for me to fulfil a life long fantasy of attending a professional dominatrix. All my life I had hidden my submissive desires but as they had become more and more powerful, I decided to act on them.
I remember how nervous I was when I rang the number in the advertisement I had kept in my wallet for two weeks. When she answered, I almost hung up but forced myself to speak and make the appointment.
It had been breathtakingly sexy and satisfying, worth every penny!
Mistress Regina, a plump woman in black stockings, high heels and a corset had spanked me, made me crawl at her feet and beg to kiss her feet and her pussy.
She did not allow me to kiss her pussy but I grovelled and licked her feet while she laughed at me. Finally, while telling her what a worthless slave I was, she allowed me to wank while licking her toes.
It was the most explosive orgasm of my life!
Immediately afterwards, I was horribly embarrassed. Mistress Regina obviously knew of my state of shame and left me to dress.
Once out of the small house, I told myself that I would never see her again, that no one would ever know!
Now, to my horror, Mistress Regina was at the Vicar’s garden party and talking on her mobile!
She won’t remember you, I silently told myself over and over again. She would have had many clients, she won’t remember you!I gulped my drink down and looked around for somewhere to hide.
Although I told myself not to look back at the gate, I found myself doing exactly that and saw her putting her mobile telephone back into her handbag.
Her face lifted and I felt her eyes on me as I turned and walked as nonchalantly as possible back towards the house. My wife and several of the ladies were involved in conversation with Lady Ashcroft while the men were talking and joking around the tables that carried the canapés.
Escaping to the side of the house, I fumbled for a cigarette while my mind tried to calm itself.
She won’t recognise me! Even if she does, what can she do? She wouldn’t want to announce to the village that she’s a professional dominatrix!I exhaled smoke and tried to think. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear footsteps on the gravel path.
‘Do you have a light?’
Startled, I turned and gasped as Mistress Regina was calmly standing on the path, waving an unlit cigarette at me.
She won’t recognise me!‘Ah…of course.’
She didn’t seem to notice that my hand was shaking as I struggled with my lighter to light her cigarette.
She inhaled the smoke and looked around.
‘I saw you walk around here and wondered what was here. It’s just a path.’
‘Ah, yes. I wanted to have a cigarette.’
‘I see,’ she said, looking me up and down.
‘My name is Constance Fulbright,’ she said at last. ‘I’ve just moved into Acorn Cottage.’
Was I mistaken or was Mistress Regina her working name?
‘Ah, very nice,’ I stumbled, I’m Derek Olson.’
‘It is nice to meet you, Derek. Do you have a wife here?’
‘She’s around the front with Lady Ashcroft.’
‘Ah, she must be a big wheel around here. The women here are closer than the mafia.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ I smiled while my heart sang with relief.
She doesn’t remember me!‘They’re not exactly welcoming, especially when I don’t have a husband.’ She smiled at me. ‘That seems to be a drawback.’
‘It’ll be fine once they get to know you.’
‘I suppose so. Well, nice chatting with you. I should go around and smile to the Vicar’s wife.’
She walked off and I shivered with relief.
She didn’t remember!
Still, I thought as I watched her plump backside move down the path, she’s very sexy!
Memories of me naked crawling at her feet, looking up at her pantied crotch and begging to kiss her pussy came rushing back and my cock squirmed in my trousers.
Incredibly sexy, I remembered, as I walked around the house and into the formal garden. The sun was hidden by a cloud for a moment and, typically, a chill rushed through the gathering.
My heart leapt into my mouth when I saw Constance talking to Leila and the Vicar’s wife while Lady Ashcroft nodded.
What is she saying?Mouth dry, I joined the group and Leila looked at me coolly.
‘This is Miss Constance Fulbright,’ she said in an icy tone while holding her gaze sharply on me.
‘Ah…we’ve met,’ I stammered.
‘Have you?’ Leila raised an eyebrow.
‘We met just a moment ago,’ Constance said with a smile. ‘I’m afraid I brazenly introduced myself as I don’t know anyone here.’
‘I see,’ Leila said and the conversation wandered on.