Margaret Ch. 4

My relationship with Margaret was not solely about sex although it had assumed a most important role particularly, I think, for Margaret. The more I gave myself to her, the closer we became. We did all kinds of things together as we had before she had accepted my submission. We enjoyed making the flat our space and exploring books and films together. We spent weekends walking ourselves into exhaustion through the countryside or with her watching me play rugby.

The nature of our relationship was always there, a positive force. She knew she had total control and she loved it. So did I. Our relationship was ours to cherish and not to expose to the world's curious gaze or derision.

She liked the fact that I worked and, despite occasional arguments about my hours (shift work can be a real bind), and the pressure of working with Sister Bennet my life outwardly continued as before.

But my life had changed beyond all recognition.

*

Sister Bennet asked her staff to join her to celebrate her 44th birthday which coincided with 25 years in the profession. We were all surprised by this. She was not the most approachable of people as I may have indicated before and such an invitation was not typical. She arranged her celebration in the Nurses' home common room and a surprisingly large number of past and present colleagues attended. It was a Saturday and Margaret came with me, looking gorgeous in a long black dress. I had helped her to dress and knew every clasp, zip and clip.

She had arranged, sometime earlier, for us both to have piercings. I hadn't fancied this at all but she called me a wimp and took me to a specialist. A ring in my scrotum had frightened the life out of me but she (and the lady who did it) were dismissive. I was so scared it must have been micro-surgery; nearly everything tried to hide! Margaret's ring in her labia was lovely and she showed no fear when it was installed. Now we were sometimes joined by a chain between us – sometimes to her labia, sometimes to her wrist. She often wore the chain wrapped around her wrist or around her neck, as it was this night, as a sign for me alone.

Sister Bennet came to talk to us. I introduced them and stood by proudly as she talked to Margaret. They talked for a long time and I wandered off to talk to some colleagues. By about 11 I was sitting talking to Julia, a staff nurse with whom I worked closely, and I was, to be honest, slightly the worse for red wine. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to look up at Sister Bennet standing beside Margaret. I stood and moved to stand beside Margaret.

"Do you think we should go now?"

"Yes, sure." I said my goodbyes to Sister Bennet and to Julia and followed Margaret to the door. I heard Sister Bennet say to Margaret, "You should be harsher, he needs it." I heard Margaret's gentle laugh.

"You can't drive can you?" She was amused rather than angry and opened the door for me. I got in, slightly confused, and she got in the driver's side and adjusted the seat.

"Alice knows."

"Alice?"

"Alice Bennet."

"What? What the hell did you tell her?"

Margaret stopped abruptly. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, sorry but how does she know?"

She drove off again. "She recognised the symptoms in you and saw the reflection in me. She knows, that's all. She understands too."

"But Margaret….."

"It doesn't matter, lover."

*

"Don't get drunk. You know I don't like it."

"I'm sorry."

Many couples would have had a row at this point, me slightly drunk and Margaret a little angry about it. It would, for many, have become one of those arguments, the sort that open old wounds and run interminably into the night. For us, there was always a way for Margaret to deal with it.

She stood me against the wall in the entrance to our flat. She unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. She unbuckled my belt and pulled my trousers and pants down. "Socks are silly, " she said and I knew enough to take them off.

Margaret stood in front of me. She unwound the chain from her neck and reached down to clip it to the ring in my scrotum, gently cupping my balls as she did so. She turned her back to me and I undid the clasp of her dress and unzipped the long fastening from her neck to the small of her back. She stepped out of the dress and, turning, handed it to me. She wore no bra and her nipples seemed to point accusingly at me. She was wearing French knickers, black and wide in the leg, loose fitting. She handed me her end of the chain and I knelt. I eased her knickers to one side and touched her lips with my fingers. "Just fix it," she said. Somehow with Margaret, the quieter she spoke, the more menacing the sound. I clipped the chain to her ring. "Good, come with me." She turned and I, carrying the dress still, followed her to the kitchen. With no ceremony she bent me over the kitchen table and slapped my backside, slapped it hard and often so it was hot and stinging when she'd finished. Pain is not a real turn on for me and this was a genuine punishment. But when the punishment ended, so did the problem that had led to it.

Margaret stood behind me. She reached between my legs and held my balls lovingly and, with her other hand, stroked my back. The chain rasped lightly on my skin. She ran her finger down the long scar caused by an over eager back row who had tried to heel me out of a ruck some months before in an inter-hospital rugby match.

"Don't get drunk."

"No."

She ran her finger further down my back and between my cheeks. I tensed. "Only one punishment tonight," she reassured me but her finger touching lightly at me told me that it was a gentle threat that I should not ignore. She knew that, despite the way she had aroused me once before, an arousal which had confused me, I did not like anything anal. Margaret did but respected my feelings although she was happy to use them to control me.

I felt her hands leave me and the tug on the chain as she walked away. I followed her to the bathroom. I hung her dress on the hook on the back of the door as she took of her knickers and ran them along the chain and indicated I should hold them. She sat to pee and I turned to look away. "Watch me," she said, "I like you to." I turned and she looked at me with her eyebrow lifted and said, "Prude. Shower, I think." I opened the shower door and went to step inside. "Alone." I stood outside the shower, the chain running through the door to my lover. She came out and I towelled her dry. She undid the chain and, removing the scrap of black silk, wrapped the chain around my neck and fastened it to itself. "Mine," she said, kissed me and told me to shower and come to bed.

I went into the bedroom. Margaret was sitting in bed reading. She wore a long, maroon silk nightdress and, without looking up, she pulled it up over her legs and pointed to her ring. I clipped the chain to it. "Love me."

I knelt between her legs and lowered my face to her. Her lips have always fascinated me. Light hairs, which I keep trimmed, lie around them but they are, themselves, quite smooth and tight together so that her entrance is just a crease. I touched them with my tongue. Let it lie against them, not moving, the only sensations being its touch and my breath. I stayed like that, quite still for seconds, feeling the slight engorgement and swelling of her lips. I let my tongue slip lightly over them now, nudging the ring, letting that work with my tongue. As my tongue moved I let the pressure increase by degrees but always gentle and slow. I softly lapped at her, revelling, all my senses filled with her. I lay down and, with hands under her thighs, eased her legs to bend with her feet on my shoulders. Now she was open to me and I felt my tongue slip between her lips, the wetness and warmth welcoming me. I ran my tongue around in squirming circles, now touching, now leaving her clit. I made my tongue a rod and slipped it in slowly, pushing as far as I could into her. As I did so, all the while I caressed her thighs with my hands. I let my right hand slip to her and slid a finger inside as my tongue ravaged her clitoris more firmly. I made my tongue a curved shape and let it run its whole length along her clit as my finger worked gently inside her in time with my licking. I reached with my left hand to caress her silk covered breast, finding her nipple and rolling it between my fingers as her muscles pressed against my finger and my tongue rocked between her lips.

The ultimate gift, I let my tongue slip down, across the sensitive skin behind her pussy and to her bum. I treated it as I had her pussy, touching it gently then caressing it and then, the bit I gave her with all my love, pressing it with my tongue covered with her juices until it let me in. My nose and finger in her pussy and my tongue in her arse, my hand caressing her breast and nipple I loved my lady. I felt her orgasm rise and burst like a firework display, felt her buck and, muffled by her thighs clamped to my head, heard her murmurs of pleasure. She came down slowly and I tried to match my slowing attentions to her to that descent of hers. When she was still I felt her touch my hair. I looked up and she smiled.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," she said.

She patted the bed next to her. "Kneel here." I crawled up the bed and knelt, but I was, unknowingly, facing the wrong way. "Turn around." Momentarily I worried that I was to be invaded again but turned and knelt. I felt her reach between my legs and cup my scrotum, a sensation I loved. Her finger touched my bum and she said, "You thought……."

"It crossed my mind."

"Trust me, little one."

She reached through and, still cupping my balls, she stroked me, kissing and licking my back. She stopped only to reach for the knickers she had removed earlier. She touched them to the end of my penis, the fabric teasing my balls and thighs.

"Now, lover."

Afterwards we lay together and held each other, still joined by the chain.

"I think Alice is right."

"Right?"

"I should treat you more harshly."

Her laugh was soft and made her body move gently against mine, she could feel me rise against her leg.

"No more punishment and no more pleasure tonight, lover." She was wrong of course. What greater pleasure could there be to love such a woman?