This story couldn't have been written without one man, you know who you are!
She quickly turns the ornate gold tap in the opulent ladies room of the country house, and grabs a handful of paper towels that were neatly placed next to the expensive hand creams and lotions, she begins to dab the red wine stain on her new cream evening dress.
“This isn’t going to come out, that stupid oaf of a man.” She wishes she could have let loose and tell him what she thought of him, for being so drunk and obnoxious.
“No, I did the right thing biting my tongue,” she thinks as she reminds herself;
“That stupid oaf was also very wealthy and prepared to donate a large sum of money to my husband’s charity.”
She hated these stupid events that her husband would come up with, and then leave for her to organise, while he swans off round the world with his charity work.
She shakes her head to quickly dismisses the thought, how could she be mad at a man that just wanted to help people that couldn’t help themselves.
“I’ll have to change and get this in soak or it will be ruined,” she decides as she turns off the running tap and quickly dries her hands.
The country house rooms were filled with guests for the fundraisers, so she and her husband were staying in one of the small cottages set back from the main house.
She sticks her head round the huge wooden door that leads into the grand dining room, which is filled with men and woman in expensive attire, sipping champagne, and discussing the state of parts of the world they have never even visited.
She scanned around the room, and sees her husband stuck in a corner listening intently to a man, she wasn’t sure who it was, as all these pompous lot looked the same to her.
She wasn’t used to the life that money and status brings, as that was not the life she came from before they moved to the area when she was a teenage girl.
There was no point in telling her husband where she was going as he probably wouldn’t notice she was missing anyway. She often slipped away from these things when all the rich talk got too much and she needed some air.
She walked through the grand hallway, past paintings of faces of people she didn’t know, and into the even grander entrance, with its highly polished marble walls and floor, past the table with the biggest flower arrangement she had ever seen in the middle.
As soon as she got through the oak doors and into the warm summers night, she gave out a huge sigh, she always felt suffocate in buildings like that.
She wandered round the paths that lead to the cottages;
“Lucky I couldn’t decide what to wear and bought a spare dress,” she thinks as she pulls the clinging wet fabric of her dress away from her skin, inspecting the size of the stain.
She was lost in thought, thinking when she would get chance to get the dress to the cleaners, when she neared the tiny picturesque cottages surrounded by trees with thick green foliage, that where lightly lit by the full moon in the sky.
As she walks past the picket fence of the cottage adjoining there’s, she stop abruptly as a sound of woman’s moan comes loudly out the open window of the cottage.
She freezes on the spot, like stone, holding her breath, she listens with just the sound of the trees gently blowing and the sound of her increased heart beat in her ears.
“She sounded like she was in pain?” A voice in her head pipes up.
“Should I go and see?”
Slowly she turns and walks towards the gate, just as she is opening the wooden gate, hoping it doesn’t squeak as loud as there’s does, the moan comes again.
It’s louder this time, but it’s mixed with the sound of pleasure.
Maybe she should just turn around and go, but the voice in her head scold’s her;
“What if she is in pain and you just leave her.”
“Yes, I should just have a peak in the window to check she’s okay,” with that she quietly creeps up the stone path towards the open window. Her heart increasing in speed with every step she takes.
She gets to the window and peeks round to see into the room, and a small gasp escapes her lips at the sight of what’s in front of her.
The room is the same as there’s with low ceilings with wooden beams, and a huge open fire place, with two armchairs facing the fire. Behind the sitting area there is a large wooden dining table.
That is where she can see the woman, she is laid face down over the table, and is wearing a beautiful emerald green silk halter dress, but the straps around her neck have been untied, and she can see her small white breast pushed hard against the wooden surface of the table.
Behind her stands a man, her view of him is obscured by the angle at which she is looking through the window. From what she can see he is tall and well built, he is in a black evening suit and is stood over the woman.
She slowly moves so she can get a better view, all the while terrified that she might be spotted.
She should go, she shouldn’t be spying on them, but she finds that she can’t move, like her brain has stopped talking to her legs, her feet rooted to the spot, her eyes wide at the sight in front of her.
She notices that the man has got the woman by her long blonde hair;
“Oh no, maybe he is hurting her,” but then she looks at the woman’s face, yes there is pain in her face but then something else.
The man speaks and she knows for sure who that voice belongs to, she would never forget that voice.
“You like that don’t you,” he growls, his voice sounding rougher and more primal than it had before.
He bends over her bringing his head down to kiss her from her neck, right the way down her back.
Now that he had moved she can see his face, as she stands outside the window, transfixed by the look in his dark brooding eyes as his lips descends her body.
Stood watching this scene something awakens inside her, and she can feel a flame ignite deep within her.
Her mind is transported back to their first meeting, earlier that day at the welcoming brunch.
She had been in the staff kitchens, having a heated discussion with matradee about the number of waiting staff that they had supplied for the evenings fundraisers.
“I organised this with you months ago, how do expect us to cater for a party of a hundred of the most affluent guest, with only a handful of serving staff!” she rubs her temples to try and subside the dull ache that had started in her head.
“If you don’t sort it, I will be speaking to the manager, and perhaps we will use another venue for our next event.”
Just at that moment a tall, dark haired and well-dressed man strode into the kitchen, followed by one of the serving staff.
“Guest aren’t allowed back here,” the girl worriedly says as she follows him into the kitchen.
He turned round and stops the girl in her tracks with one simple steely look; she visibly shrinks in front of this imposing man.
“That’s okay Mary, please can you go and continue to serve coffee to the guest,” the matradee scowls at the young serving girl, who flushes and quickly turns and heads out of the kitchen.
“Mr Johnson, what can I do for you?” he says in his heavily French accent.
He addresses the matradee, with a cool authoritative voice, that sends chills through her body.
She is extremely annoyed that this man, who has interrupted her conversation, and hasn’t even had the common decency to acknowledge that she is stood there.
He wasn’t even supposed to be here, it was only due to Lady Ellington falling off her horse and being unable to attend, that he had been asked at the last minute to take her place.
“I wanted to check what wines you were serving with the tonight’s meal, last time I stayed here, you served what you must class as a decent vintage, but for a man of my tastes, it simple wasn’t good enough.” He glares at the man, who scurries away to find the menu for later.
“For a man of my taste,” she is astonished at this man’s audacity.
She turns to the Mr. Johnson and holds out her hand in way of introduction;
“I’m Mrs. Williams, the organiser of this event,” her hand is left hanging in the air,
“I know who you are Rebecca,” he coolly states then turns and walks towards the direction that matradee has gone.
Her blood boils, as she follows him, “If you have any questions about tonight, you can ask me,” she says unable to keep the irritation from her voice.
He instantly stop and turns to face her, with the same look he had used to intimidate the young serving girl.
She holds her ground, straightens her shoulders and matches the intense gaze to this infuriating man.
They stand for a second in deadlock; both with an angered looked on their faces.
A small smirk appears on his face.
“Well, from the sounds of things your organisational skills leave a lot to be desired, and I am the sort of man that likes to sort things for myself, so if you don’t mind,” and with that he turns and walks away from her, leaving her stood alone in the kitchens with a dazed look on her face.
She is suddenly brought back to the present with the sound of smack coming from the room of the cottage, followed by a low carnal moan from the woman’s lips.
Rebecca anxiously moves to get a closer look, feeling slightly perverse for observing the scene in front of her.
She watches Mr Johnson as he rubs his hand gently over the woman’s now bare buttocks, before raising his hand and bringing it back down, smacking loudly on the woman’s behind, her body jolts with his blow, and writhes around, her body naturally trying to escape the cause of pain.
Rebecca expects the woman to try and fight free from his grasp, but to her surprise when she looks at the woman, she has a huge look of delight on her face.
The man’s expression suddenly changes, and for a second Rebecca is panic stricken thinking that she has been spotted, but he continues to rain blows down hard on the woman’s buttocks, her screams of delight increasing with each blow.
Abruptly he stops, and orders the woman to stand up and remove her dress.
Rebecca quickly crouches down, thankful for the over grown plants that surround the window, giving her cover.
“What am I doing, I can’t watch this,” her mind berates her, but she doesn’t move.
Sex with her husband had always been a matter of her marital duty, he had been the only man she had ever known, and she had never really found it pleasurable.
Her mother’s words of advice on her wedding day spring in her mind.
“Just lie back and think of England sweetheart, it will be over before you know it.”
She had of course been right, as she shudders of the memory of her new husbands attempt at making love to her for the first time.
The woman inside the room, is now stood with her back to the window facing him, she slowly lets her dress fall to the floor, revealing her pale slender body.
“Good Girl,” he tells the woman.
Rebecca is shocked that the woman had not been wearing any underwear below the dress, and can now clearly see the dark pink hand prints that contrast heavily to her smooth ivory skin.
He takes a step towards her and kisses her with a passion that Rebecca has never seen before, and it does something strange to her insides, the heat she felt earlier returns full force, as her insides pulsates, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid.
His hands greedily move over her body, while her hands travel down to his zip of his suit trousers. She unzips his trousers letting them fall to the floor.
Rebecca ducks down and puts her head in her hands, can she really watch this? She feels so dirty and naughty, but it’s like there is a magnetic force pulling her, she wants to watch.
She slowly raises herself so she can peek back through the window.
The man now has the woman laid flat on the polished wooden table; he has removed his boxer shorts, but still has his crisp white shirt, with black dinner jacket on. He is ploughing into the woman with a force; Rebecca did not know was possible.
She had never seen anything so arousing in her life, she has a sudden uncontrollable urge to touch herself, and as if someone else has taken over her body, her hand reaches down and touches her now sensitive lady area, she gently caress herself through the fabric of her dress, her eyes not once moving from this powerful man, as he masterfully pounds deep into woman, who is unravelling beneath him.
Rebecca is lost and staggered by the thoughts running through her head, as the pace of her hand increase, to match that of his trusts.
She thinks the woman is close to orgasm as her cries increase in volume, and her body convulses with pleasure.
Unexpectedly he stops, pulls out the woman revealing his thick but averagely lengthen member, a gasp escapes Rebecca’s lips, as she quickly dives down and hides from view.
