Angel Delight

My submission to Lady Sonia’s charms was deeply exciting and satisfying.  She played with me in a way that made me made me realise how much I loved the beauty, femininity and inexorable allure of a woman’s body but more so her mind.  When a woman has control of you and uses you for her satisfaction and is totally in charge it accentuates the sexual thrill to the power of ten.  But my servitude was merely an aspect of my libido’s needs.  I was beginning to realise that I didn’t conform to any one picadillo.  My mind was fertile with different needs, some involved handing over power, some involved taking control.  Some just existed to provide the thrill of pure unadulterated sexual excitement.

In an attempt to provide an alternative to the captivating lure of a dominant mistress I continued to answer ads.  This was, as ever, a random process, with varying degrees of success.  The excitement of receiving a possibly interested reply was often mitigated by signs that the replies were not entirely genuine.  Or people who seemed interested disappeared just as quickly as they arrived. It was a deeply arbitrary and frustrating process.

But a reply received from a woman called Serena caught my eye.  She invited me to meet her and her husband at their house in Sussex for a drink and see if we ‘got on’.  Little did I know that this was to be tumultuous.  Many encounters such as these ended up with no connection, something not seeming right or just a lack of attraction.  This was to be one of my most memorable encounters but, initially, I had no expectations so completely under-estimated what lay ahead.  If I’d known I would have been a nervous wreck……

We arranged a date for a Saturday evening in late October.  The leaves were changing colour and the drive down to Sussex was spectacular.  A sign for sure.  I’d been given directions which led me to a country road heading out of a small, quaint village.  I was to follow the road for 1.5 miles and look out for a turning on the right marked by the name of the house.  I was to follow the long gravel drive………

‘Long’ was a good word as the drive went on for about 500 yards before a seriously impressive country house came into view.  Hidden by mature trees, rambling, Georgian, beautifully maintained, of substantial size with an extensive west wing, gabled roof and pillars beside the formal front door like sentries guarding the occupants.  One of the occupants needed guarding, I would never have let her out of my sight if I owned her, but I didn’t.  Paul did.  

It was Paul that met me at the very stately front door.  A man in his mid ‘50’s with greying hair and a calm and refined manner.  His greeting was extremely warm and welcoming and I liked him immediately.  He asked me to come in and join him in the drawing room for a drink.  We padded down a long corridor with a number of impressive antique prints adorning the impressive and aged walls.  There were family photos in expensive frames which I didn’t have time to dwell over because there appeared to be an urgency for alcohol to be administered.  I was driving but happily accepted his kind offer of a gin and tonic.  He attended to a drinks’ cabinet in the corner of what was an auspicious and cavernous room with beautiful furniture and elaborate furnishings.  Rugs that must have been Persian, sofas that must have been Davenports and Chesterfields, beautifully upholstered with rococo styling very evident and chandeliers hanging teasingly on long chains from the ornate, vaultedceiling 30 feet above.  But what marked this room as even more special was the grand, elegantly carved, wooden staircase with twisted handrails which dominated the centre of the room allowing theatrical entry from whatever palatial quarters were upstairs.

Paul clicked my high-quality crystal glass with his Glencairn malt and wished me good health.  It was providential.  Fitness was to prove handy.  My football training was about to come in useful and be way more beneficial than it had ever proved to be on the pitch.  He invited me to sit on an elaborately upholstered sofa facing the stairs, while he sank into a trimmed velvet armchair complete with ornate cushions.  His conversation was warm and comforting.  We told me how his company had been bought out by investors, how workmen were restoring one of their stables and the trouble he was having choosing a colour for his new super-powered sports car.  But all without being pretentious and with great charm and likeability.  He was successful and I respected him and his surroundings.  I also liked his possessions.  All of them.

The conversation became more concentrated.  He wanted to know more about me and my life.  I explained generally.  He was loquacious and found no difficulty in opening up.  He explained that Serena was 20 years younger than he was and that he couldn’t keep up with all of her needs.  He said that the most special thing about their relationship was that they talked.  About everything.  He said that he wanted her to have whatever she needed.  Apparently, she needed sex.  A lot of it and he was more than happy to accommodate her wishes.  But on his terms.  He said he would only allow Serena to meet another man that he liked and only if he was present.  He didn’t make it clear whether this was as a chaperone, a guardian or a voyeur but whatever it was, it didn’t matter, it was the rule.

Later that night he told me that they’d planned it so that if I was still there at 8.30pm she could assume that my audition had been successful. It was 8:31pm and Paul had no move to dismiss me, in fact he seemed to be relishing my company...I wasn't to know but I'd skated though the audition...now I had to perform.