An evening with Muriel

An evening with Muriel

Jocelyn

Upon becoming a paying guest at the luxuriously spacious home of Gerrard and Muriel Tannard I was immediately struck by the incongruity of their relationship. Both were in their mid to late forties and, once upon a time, Gerrard must have been a rather good looking sort of chap, though lately gone to seed. He was a little effeminate in manner, slight of stature, thinning fair hair and a tendency to giggle. But mostly, I was mystified by the alacrity he displayed upon responding to every whim of the formidable Muriel. He was profoundly attentive and slavishly eager to please.

Muriel was a strikingly attractive woman, at 5’11 in her stocking feet she appeared to tower over the diminutive Gerrard. She had glossy flowing black hair that she frequently tied up above her head to reveal a finely featured face with strong jaw line and piercing green eyes. Her figure is best described as voluptuous and, with a twinge of guilt, I often allowed my eyes to feast upon her shapely thighs, usually encased in dark stockings. My fantasies were further fuelled by the occasional glimpse of white flesh above the stocking tops. Not infrequently it occurred to me that this display was not only for my benefit but also served to torment poor Gerrard.

From my first acquaintance with her, I had the impression that Muriel was sizing me up. Right from the start, her questions of me became more inquisitive than those usually enjoyed between landlady and tenant, and were surprisingly personal. She would demand Gerrard fetch us drinks then direct me to a seat, usually opposite her, whereupon she would begin her probing. “Did I have a girlfriend, or even a wife, in my background?” Or, “what were my views on women masturbating?” I have to admit, I found the increasing intimacy of her questioning somewhat erotic. Being seated opposite, it was most difficult to force my eyes from straying to the expanse of thigh and occasional flash of underwear. The swelling at my groin was inevitable and if she noticed, it was only with the faintest of amusement at my discomfort.

It was one evening, after several whiskies in the lounge that she directed Gerrard away to some routine chore and, once again, we found ourselves alone together, seated almost opposite in deep armchairs in front of a flickering log fire. I swirled the golden liquid around in my glass, feeling my inhibitions slip away as I basked in the warm comforting orange glow of the fire. “I must say Muriel, you have Gerrard very well trained.” I joked. Her eyebrows went up and she mused distantly for a moment.

“My little gelding you mean?” She said with rather obvious cosmetic innocence, sipping her drink provocatively.

It took a moment for her response to sink in. “Gelding?” I queried, thinking I’d misheard.

“Afraid so, a couple of summers ago. The silly sod was rather foolish in Mexico and thought he could get away with seducing a local senorita he’d met at a party. He didn’t realize her father was the big noise in town, owned the damn place, and of course it all ended in tears.” She took a gulp, winced, then shook her head. “Sanita, her name was. Pretty little thing. But then again, they always were. Gerrard just couldn’t keep it in his trousers. When he shrugged her off, Sanita was furious, and accused him of rape. The damn police confiscated our passports. God it was so embarrassing! I had no sympathy for him and quite frankly just wanted to get out of the place. Sanita’s mother came to see us and, after interminably beating around the bush, presented us with an ultimatum. He could be indicted for rape, with an inevitable conclusion”. She shuddered, her eyes glazing over at the recollection. “And oh God, any years in a Mexican prison, would be unbearable.” She paused, studying the contents of her glass. “Or,” She continued quietly. “He could accede to voluntary castration, upon which the charges would be dropped.” She stood up to pour another couple of fingers of malt into her glass, topping up my glass without asking. “There was a convenient clinic. I told the fool he had no choice and quite frankly after all his philandering I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over the matter. His affairs had become tiresome to say the least and it was about time they were umm, nipped in the bud, so to speak”. She crossed her legs and I found my eyes once again straying to the provocative white above her stocking tops. “It was supposed to be carried out very discretely but it was a small town, and it was in the interests of the mother that word got out. No one else would ever again think of violating her daughter! Shortly after the operation we were allowed to depart, Gerrard sans testicles.” She pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed as she noted the direction of my gaze, then the hint of a smile played at her lips. She made a show of adjusting her skirt, which moved not one iota.

I swallowed and, with the drink now reducing my inhibitions somewhere below zero, I made no pretence of concealing my erection as it became more prominent. “That, er, is an incredible story”. I said.

“Story?” Her mouth pursed.

I took a deep breath to clear my head, leaned forward, and spoke slowly. “You really are a very sensual woman Muriel.”

“Sensual, or sensible?” She gave a low chuckle. “That’s very Jane Austin don’t you think?”

Gerrard reappeared and leaned over Muriel. “Is there anything else my dear?” He asked obsequiously, with his hands clasped together.

“Gerrard.” She said, “I’ve explained to Sean that you are my little gelding. I suspect that he doesn’t believe me. He thinks it’s just a story.” Her head tilted as she nodded towards me and her voice dropped a degree or two in temperature as she snapped. “Let him see.” Her tone left no room for debate.

Gerrard blinked and, slightly startled, he looked towards me then back at Muriel. Her eyebrow went up. In the ensuing moment of silence he nodded acquiescence, undid his trouser belt and, before I could mutter any protestation, he dropped his trousers and underwear. His penis was little more than a convoluted acorn and it was very evident that his testicles were conspicuous by their absence. “That’s what you get for being naughty, isn’t it Gerrard!” She tittered. With eyes downcast, he pulled his clothing up. “You may go to your study.” She said, waving him away.

He nodded and retreated to the door. “I also discipline him.” Muriel added mischievously as the door clicked shut. During the expectant pause that followed Muriel put her glass to her lips and leant back, her continually rising skirt acting as an accelerant to my excitement.

“Discipline?” I finally choked.

Her lips twitched. “Oh yes, geldings need discipline just as much as stallions you know.” She met my stare. “Each Friday, naked of course, he reports to me and we discuss his week, and how much he has pleased me. Or not, as the case may be. And if I feel so inclined he takes a position with hands clasped around his ankles and I deal him a few strokes of the crop. I insist he then thanks me for my leniency.”

I confess I was at a loss. I studied my drink trying not to picture the scene and failing miserably. The redoubtable Mrs Tannard would have looked stunning no doubt and very, very splendid. I could not contain, and indeed did not even attempt to, disguise my state of arousal. “He’s a lucky man.” I said, “to have such an, hum…. assertive wife.”

“You really think so?” She replied, her eyebrows arched. Her legs had slightly parted and I caught another glimpse of black briefs.

“Oh, yes.” My heart was rapping, and my stomach had contracted into spasms. My breath came in short sharp gasps. “A woman who knows how to keep a man in order is a rare find indeed. I’ve er, never been that fortunate.”

Her laughter tinkled around the room. “Would you like a demonst
ration?” She said, putting her drink onto the coffee table and rising to her feet.

“What?”

“Stand up.” She gestured upwards with the palm of her hand. I automatically obeyed and stood immediately in front of her. ‘Miss Michelle Dior’ perfume enveloped my senses and I could feel the warm closeness of her body, her ample breasts within an inch or so of my chest. She undid her skirt and let it drop to the floor. I put my hands around her soft buttocks and pulled her against my hardness. My lips nuzzled her neck and, as she threw back her head, I felt her dark hair fall about my face. “That’s very cheeky of you.” She murmured and she pushed my head back to kiss my lips, thrusting her tongue into my mouth, her teeth grating against mine. She unbuckled my belt, slid down my zip and thrust my trousers and underwear down my thighs. She stroked my hard member and I groaned in ecstasy. She turned me around and told me to step out of my clothes. I obeyed, for by now I was her subject, body, soul and penis. I pulled off my shirt and socks and stood before her as rampant as a Satyr on Viagra. She circled me, looking magnificent in her short tailored white blouse, bursting with cleavage, thong black panties and matching suspender belt holding up 24 denier sheer nylon stockings. I wanted to drop to my knees and crush my mouth to her mound of Venus. “Now, my priapean darling.” She growled, “I’ll show you how I discipline Gerrard”. She urged me forward against a heavy oak table, and from my waist pushed me downward, my feet remaining on the floor. Absorbed in the total eroticism, I complied readily until I was face down across the table, arms outstretched towards the distant corners. She quickly secured my wrists, then kicked open my legs so they were widely splayed, and attached my ankles to the opposing feet of the table. Bent over the table, I found I could not move. She fondled my testicles, giving them a gentle squeeze, and my erection rose in force. She tweaked the end of my organ, and pulled back my foreskin. “I won’t be a moment.” She murmured, “don’t go away.” And I heard her pad quietly out of the room.

A moment later, a door opened and I felt my stomach churn, my chest tightening. But, instead of Muriel’s voice, Gerrard whispered in my ear. “Oh dear.” He said. “She’s got you well and truly trussed, ready for the deed hasn’t she…”

“Gerrard?” I gabbled, pulling at my bonds.

“Do you really think that’s all she’s going to do, tan your arse?” He sniggered. “Did you fall for that story about Mexico, oh and me being such a philanderer? I mean, do I look like the sort of Romeo who would bowl women over.” He sneered with inimical laughter. “Do you know what she is going to do to you?”

“Gerrard, I didn’t mean to……” I started.

“She wants another gelding, a new one.” He interrupted.

“What? What do you mean!” I gasped, my voice rising.

“This is how I ended up. She pretended we were going to have a sweet erotic experience, then, when I was helpless, just as you are. She castrated me”. He sighed wistfully. “But I don’t mind now, being neutered has its compensations. All her friends are aware you know, they find it hilarious. Mind you, she’s actually a good mistress, despite the bite of the crop. Oh yes, that is a little painful I must admit. But, usually deserved, and on balance you will delight in serving her.”

“I, I don’t understand?” I cried.

His voice dropped. “She’s seriously wealthy you know. Oh yes. She wants a gelding for her holiday home in the Lake District. And what Muriel wants, Muriel gets. You fit the bill perfectly. No family ties, no job, and physically you are on the sexual decline. And she noted your latent submissive tendencies very quickly. Now, be brave, she will give you an anesthetic so don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing. Um, well, maybe a little. But she’s very skilled and practiced”. I heard him edge back towards the doorway and he hissed before slipping through… “And when you’re done, I’ll enjoy watching her discipline you, oh my, yes what a pleasure that will be… She trains her geldings very strictly, very hard….” Then, a snick of the door latch and he was gone.

Franticly but impotently, I fought my bonds. Then doubt gradually took hold. Surely, Gerrard was joking? It was all merely a malicious fiction to alarm me. A bitter sweet revenge for cavorting with his wife? Yes, that was it. It must be. Rather clever, I concluded, and grinned in relief. But, the inevitable nagging uncertainty and suspicion returned. Maybe, just maybe, she really is going to… My erection suffered. I shivered despite the warmth from the fire.

The minutes ticked by and I waited, my emotions alternating between acute trepidation and a burning anticipation of what really was to come…. I was aware of my testicles exposed, hanging vulnerably, and inviting…

Until, the door creaked and Muriel’s perfume filled the air as she silently re-entered the room. It was a heady fragrance that would haunt me forever….

End

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