Aunt Cora
by Belisarius
Part 1
Cora Redgrave was not my aunt, indeed she was no relation of mine at all. For three years she was my landlady. In September 1961 I turned up at my university expecting to accommodated in one of the halls of residence there, but instead I was re-directed to the home of Aunt Cora.She was a widow and at first seemed to my immature mind to be quite old. She ran a tight ship, breakfast was on the dot of eight-thirty, the house shone with cleanliness and at the beginning and end of the day the bathroom (the only one) ran on an inflexible timetable.
It was just as well that Cora had only one other boarder, a girl called Susan, it seemed to me at the time that two thirds of the females in the world had been christened with the same name. She was studying the History of Art but never appeared to work much and was most often to be found in pubs and student dives. I don’t think she attended many lectures, but, then again, neither did I in Years 2 & 3.
The routine was that Cora would give us breakfast and expect us to be out from under her feet by nine-thirty. We would have lunch and dinner in the college refectory and return to our lodgings at six. Cocoa and a biscuit were provided before we climbed the wooden hill to Bedfordshire! God, how times have changed and not often for the better.
My life jogged along nicely until mid November when I contracted a cold.
“Don’t sneeze over me, I’ve a big night out planned,” complained Susan as I arrived for breakfast.
“Sorry……. Agggg…… I can’t….. Help it.”
My fellow student gulped down the last of her poached egg and ran for the door, “For God’s sake stop being so pathetic….. and… and so square with a capital Q….”
“Surely, you mean a capital S…..,”
“No, I bloody don’t,” she slammed the door behind her.
“Well, young man, you’re in a bad way with yourself,” Mrs Redgrave appeared from the kitchen.
“Sorry,” I began.
“You’d best stay in bed, you look all in.”
“Ohhhh, I can’t do that, I’m supposed to be out of here by ten at the very latest….. I’ll report to the university medical centre.”
“Nonsense, you’re not well enough to mix with sick people. Get back to bed and I’ll fetch you some warm milk, a bacon sandwich and a ‘flu powder. You’ll feel better in no time.”
I gratefully took her up on her offer and once she seen me eat, drink and then swallow the medicine she had brought, I dropped off into a sound, cosy sleep.
Around lunch time I felt a deal better, so I wrapped myself up in my dressing gown and went downstairs to tell Aunt Cora that I would try to catch the lecture scheduled for me that afternoon.
As I came to the kitchen door I found her loading her washing machine, singing to herself as she worked.
What struck me though was what a wonderful pair of legs she had, long and very shapely with a fine bulge of thigh. In addition, her skirt was drawn taut and I could see the outline of her suspenders and the line of her panties. It was all I could do to stop myself from caressing the soft roundness of her bottom.
I coughed, “Excuse me Mrs Redgrave…..,” I stuttered.
She stood up and smoothed down the front of her skirt, the sight of her hands running across the curve of her thighs made my fingers itch, but I was a well brought up boy whose experience of the opposite sex was virtually nil. I’d never felt a breast nor had anything other than the sketchiest of ideas what a girl looked like between her legs.
“You look a seem a lot better, go and sit by the kitchen fire and I’ll bring us coffee…. I generally have mine about now,” she ordered.
As I waited for her to join me I was tormented by a series of mental pictures, Mrs Redgrave with no clothes on, Mrs Redgrave opening her blouse, Mrs Redgrave allowing me to kiss her on the lips……. It went on and on.
“Coffee’s nice and hot, Tom, drink it up, it’ll do you good.”
I smiled and sipped, it was the first time she hadn’t called me Mr Markham.
“I think I’ll pop in to college this afternoon,” I said.
“Oh no you won’t. You need to keep out of the weather for at least three days otherwise your cold will never clear.”
“But…. I can’t…… I’m supposed to be from out under your feet, you can’t have me hanging about…..”
“You’ll be no trouble to me wrapped up by the fire.”
“But…. but, how will I eat…..”
“Silly boy, I always cook far too much for myself, there’ll be enough for both of us.”
Well, lectures, tramping wet pavement and college food had no great appeal for me so I sat still and enjoyed the rest of my coffee.
As the days passed we developed a comfortable routine. After breakfast I’d do some research and writing whilst Cora got on with the housework and cooking. We’d have lunch (she was an excellent cook) and then do some more work before a cup of tea and a cake at four. The evening meal was at seven after which we settled down in front of her television set.
We talked amiably and found that we had a lot in common, enjoyed the same authors, liked walking in the Lake District and couldn’t stand the sight of Harold Wilson.
By now I was overcome by how beautiful she was. It was a bit like fancying my mother, but, thankfully, somehow different. She had the friendliest smile which lit up her face and her complexion was smooth and pink. She always wore perfume which seemed to linger in the air after she had gone and which I would take great breaths of. Her dress was neat, well chosen and was always set off with a contrasting colour.
Anyway, one evening, a movie came on and we began to watch it, an historical pot-boiler starring Maria Montez entitled The Thief of Venice.
“Is this all right for you,” she asked.
“Fine, it’ll probably help my studies,” I chuckled.
The story flickered by and then a scene came which caused my cock to rise. Miss Montez’s character is taken to the Doge’s torture chamber and fastened to a rack, which is then enthusiastically worked. The victim groans but refuses to talk. Then a poker is heated up and applied to her body (I forget which part of it, not the poker, her body), she screams, faints and is then lowered down into what looks like a well. It’s a long sequence giving the viewer time to take in the interesting bits.
“Poor girl,” said Cora, her voice husky.
“Yes…..,” I gulped, “Yes…. Poor girl,” my voice was as husky as hers.
“I wonder….,” began Cora, “I wonder what if feels like to be tied up like that, feeling helpless, frightened and alone?”
“Mmmmm, pretty terrifying I should think, especially with chaps running around with white hot branding irons.”
Cora shivered, “I know, but, I wonder how it feels.”
“Well, I know for a fact I’d scream and shout and beg them not to turn the handle of the rack as I’d be prepared to tell them anything.”
She mused a while before replying, “Yes, I’d do the same. However, the actress wasn’t really being tortured, was she, I suppose I was merely fantasising. But, it would be interesting…….”
“Well, being tightly tied up must be uncomfortable, but if you knew you weren’t going to be tortured it may be interesting.”
“Yes, I see what you mean, some of the fear would be gone, but the feeling of helplesness would remain,” she remarked thoughtfully.
There was quite a long silence and then; I don’t know how I summoned up the courage, but I said, “Would you like to try it….. I could…..”
“Tie me up, you mean,” she replied, her voice still husky.
My head drooped and my face went red, “Sorry…. sorry I just thought you wanted…….”
She shook her head and took my hand in hers, “Don’t worry, Tom, it’d be only a game, we would be, explorers, if you like.”
I looked up at her and smiled, relieved that she really did seem to wish to be bound by me. At the time the only bondage I was familiar with was the one the Israelites had been put into.
Her voice became serious, “If we try this, you wouldn’t tell anyone would you?”
“’Course not.”
“Good. There’s some cord in the kitchen, I’ll go and get it,” she announced.
As she left the room I attempted to get my cock under control as it seemed to have developed a will of its own.
She came back with what seemed like a dozen yards of rope, string and cord. Then, wordlessly, she made for the stairs, indicating that I should follow her.
I entered her bedroom for the first time, the scent of her hung in the air and the room itself was pink and cosy, just as I had imagined it would be.
“The lady was tied on to a rack, do you suppose my bed would suffice?” she mused.
“Yes,” I was amazed that I hadn’t stuttered.
She climbed on to the bed, centred herself in the middle and lay rigid.
I coughed, “Er….., should I begin?”
She said nothing, just turned her head to face mine and her eyes suddenly became soft and very welcoming, which I took as a “yes.”
Kneeling on the mattress beside her I pulled her wrists together in front of her and began to bind them. She winced as I drew the cord tight, “Sorry…. sorry….,” I apologised.
“No…., it’s all right, it’ll be no good if the knots aren’t tight, carry on…… carry on, please.”
Once her wrists were secured I pulled her arms above her and tied them to the bedhead.
Now came a tricky moment, did she want her ankles bound? Should I ask? I decided not to.
I went to the bottom of the bed and took her right ankle in my hands. She gave a little sigh as I stroked her legs, delighting in the feel of her nylons, which were medium brown and of good quality. Quickly, before she changed her mind, I encircled her ankle with rope and pulled her leg towards the bottom bedrail, tying it off there. I then proceeded to her left leg and carried out the same operation. As I knelt, fastening the cord, I could see a certain way up her skirt to the top of one stocking and the nub of a very white suspender. My cock wanted to jump out of my trousers and I was too embarrassed to stand up so certain was I that she couldn’t fail to miss it. I was so inexperienced that it was beyond my wildest imagining that a woman might be pleased to see a pleasant bulge in a man’s trousers.
I then saw that her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily, I wondered if she was all right and was about to ask when she spoke.
“Somehow, it feels restful, it’s as though all my worries have fled all my responsibilities have been removed.”
“Hmmm…..,” I muttered, not understanding at all.
“Perhaps you could threaten me,” she asked.
“How?”
“Well, tell me you are going to torture me.”
“I’m going to torture you,” I replied flatly.
“Oh, come on, Tom, surely you can do better than that.”
I tried hard to roughen my voice, “Well, madam, are you going to tell me what I want to know, or am I to use more persuasive means.”
“I’ll never betray my friends,” Cora said bravely.
“Then we’ll begin with a little stretching and if that fails, then the branding irons will be put to work.”
“Do your worst, I will never talk.”
“We’ll see, I will delight in the sound of your screams, you will beg to tell me all I want to know,” I began to fit into my role and wondered if I ought to join the college Dramatic Society.
Cora opened her eyes wide, “My, that was better, you gave me the shivers. Perhaps you really could torture me… just a little.”
Lead me to it, I thought, but said, “I don’t see how I can torture you, it might hurt.”
“Well it should hurt, but just enough to make it exciting… I find this exciting, don’t you?”
“Yes… Yes, of course I do, but what should I torture you with.”
“How about a gentle whipping? You could take your belt off and use that.”
I did as I was told and stood over her uncertain, “Where should I whip you?”
She thought for a moment before replying, “Perhaps gently across the thighs would be best.”
I gave her one or two soft thwacks and paused, waiting for her reaction.
“This isn’t quite doing it, is it? Do you think you could push my skirt up and try again across my bare thighs?”
What a silly bloody question, but I just said, “Will that be all right…. I’ll see your underwear…….”
“You must have looked at pictures of ladies in their lingerie, surely.”
“Not really, except in corset adverts.”
“You poor dear. You do like women and girls, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I retorted, quite huffed.
“Well then, now’s your chance to have a close look at a pair of female legs.”
Without waiting a second longer I slowly raised her skirt, my cock bounded forward again as her stocking tops appeared. It was a revelation to me, the wonderful paleness of her thighs set off by dark nylon. The nylon held tautly in place and jerked upwards by her stiff suspenders.
Before I could raise my belt to deliver the first blow I came in my trousers.
Then the doorbell rang.
Cora pulled against her bonds but could make no impression on them, “Whoever it is, get rid of them,” she called.
I was in a complete panic. What if someone came in and found Cora like this? I’d get the blame, it could be anyone at the door. It could be the police, called by a suspicious neighbour. What then? I could be charged with rape! Or at the very least attempted rape.
The person at the door was becoming more insistent.
I hurried downstairs, feverishly rubbing at the wet patch that had appeared on my trousers and trying to force my penis into a less obvious position.
The bell rang again and the letterbox was rattled, “Hurry up, for goodness sake, it’s freezing out here.”
It was the wretched Susan, trust her, I thought, to ruin my first experience of bondage.
“Grief, I seemed as thought there was no one in,” she said as she entered, “What’s happened to your trousers?”
“Trousers… Oh…. Oh, yes….. Spilled tea.”
“That’s a bad area to scald.”
“I caught it…. Caught it just in time…. Could have been nasty.”
“Where’s Aunt Cora?”
“Oh, Aunt Cora…. Let me see….. Oh, I know, she’s not feeling too well, she’s gone to bed.”
“Really? I’d better pop up to see if she’s all right.”
“No, no, don’t do that, she wants quiet,” I said desperately, taking hold of her arm.
“Ok, you can let go of me, I’ll make the cocoa, do you want some?”
“Yes, that would be great. Yes, yes, please.”
“I’m only offering a cup of cocoa,” she said giving me a strange look before disappearing towards the kitchen.
I hared back upstairs and slammed the door of my own room as a diversionary measure before creeping in to Cora’s bedroom.
Slipping in quietly I saw that she was writhing under her bonds, twisting, turning and at the same time moaning gently. She had caused her skirt to be raised further until it lay just beneath her waist. I had a clear view of her panties, they were pristine white, embossed with what looked like roses and had a tiny edging of lace. More interestingly, at her crotch there was a long, dark shadowed, gash which I immediately wanted to rub my thumb along.
“It was Susan,” I said softly.
“I heard,” her voice was soft and she was breathing heavily.
“I’d better untie you.”
“No, don’t do that yet, Tom.”
“What about Susan, she might arrive up here at any time to see how you are.”
“Don’t worry, when you go down, tell her it’s women’s problems, she’ll understand.”
“Right,” I said and turned to go.
“Tom, would you do something for me?”
“Of course.”
“It might sound strange.”
I nodded, “Whatever you like.”
“Take another piece of rope.”
I did as I was told and stood before her, drinking in the sight of her exposed legs.
“Tie the rope around my waist with the knot at my back.”
She raised her hips to allow me to follow her instructions and her pelvis was pushed towards my face. I was sure that I’d come in my pants again.
“Now pull the rope up between my legs and fasten it to the waist rope.”
God this was wonderful, how could I have been so unaware that sex could be so exciting, I thought as I began to carry out her instructions.
“Pull it as tight as you can before tying it off and make sure that the rope is…..”
“Fitted into that wonderful, little valley which is running up to your belly?”
“Yes, just so…..”
With quivering hands I proceeded to do as I was told.
“Wait…..”
I paused.
“Would you like to caress that little slit with your fingers?”
“Yes….. More than anything,” I croaked.
She lay back and I set to work, my eyes closed and cock rising.
“Ohhhh….. Ahhhhhhh……,” she moaned.
My fingers delved deeper and I could feel a rising moistness.
“Your cocoa’s waiting,” Susan shouted from below.
Again, I could easily have killed her, but instead hurried to my bedroom, opened the door noisily and shouted “Right, thanks, I’ll be there in a tick.” I changed my trousers for obvious reasons, returned to Cora and completed what I now know to be a crotch rope.
“Come back when all’s quiet and release me,” she ordered pushing herself on to the rope that was now lodged deep into her cunt. The cocoa was quite pleasant too.
End of part 1
Copyright© 2012 by Belisarius. All rights reserved.