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March 2021 Short Story: The Autumn Journal of Mrs. Lamentia Langsbury
🕑 Added 2021-03-14 13:00:00 +0000 UTCThe winning prompt for March 2021 was: "Her riding boots must be carefully maintained, or else. (F/m) ". I was interested in trying out a concept that's a little different from my usual range. It came together surprisingly quickly.
Writing this particular story gave me a bit of a realization. I have a much, much easier time translating dialogue than narration in VNs, but I find it much harder to write dialogue from scratch than to do the same for narration/monologues in these short stories. I'm still thinking about why that is.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons or organizations real or fictional is entirely coincidental. This is fiction.
Content Warning: This work contains depictions of blood, and caning/harsh physical discipline.
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Date: Wednesday, October 6th
Time: Afternoon
Weather: Rainy
As I sit down to lunch at my desk, I reflect that the life I lead is really quite ideal. Even on days where the weather is gloomy, I have plenty of blessings to count.
This morning, I awoke as usual to the gentle grays of a cloudy morning in my window and a pleasant tingling beneath my waist. I didn't have to look down to know it was my husband, Floris, performing his assigned task of morning pussy worship at the appointed time. To this day, I don't understand why some use an alarm bell or clock when the morning light and your husband's tongue together make waking up such a sheer delight. Even after waking up, I kept my eyes closed, savoring the gentle ministrations of Floris' tongue around the lips of my sweaty crotch. However, I am a busy woman, and time will not wait for long. After seven minutes, I reached down to pat him on the head, and he withdrew. I opened my eyes and was rewarded with the sight of him wiping my juices off his lips with a handkerchief.
Floris was already dressed in a classical maid uniform, black dress with white apron, cuffs, and headband, but I sleep in the nude. After a shower in the adjoining bathroom, my slender husband stood at the ready with my outfit for the day, a dark grey high-necked blouse coupled with a simple long, black skirt, to be worn over a comfortable, plain set of black undergarments. I raised my arms on each side, signalling that, today, he was allowed to put on my bra. Floris knows I like him to start with the left arm, and I know he enjoys the chance to get dangerously close to my breasts as he sets the bra into place. Today's ritual did not last as long as it might have, and I found him sliding the back hook into place without really testing those boundaries. I gave a demonstration of sorts last night, and I suppose that was still on his mind. The rest of the clothing process was similarly uneventful.
No sooner had he finished off the outfit than he produced my favorite hair brush. I sat on a stool in front of the mirror, and he proceeded to gently run the brush through my hair, treating it carefully. He has such delicate hands, and I can tell from the way he ran them through my hair this morning that he would have been eager to touch more of me. However, I keep to my schedule. After my hair was nice and straight, he knotted it into a tight bun above the nape of my neck. I have no company scheduled today, so I had him step back without applying makeup. And finally, as I do every day, I put my two rings on. A sapphire on the left ring finger, and an emerald on the right.
Once appropriately clothed, I descended the stairs to break my fast for the morning. Floris followed two steps behind, though, as a special reward, I allowed him to hold my hand for part of the way. I gently let go before we entered the dining room. There, we were met by breakfast of a fried egg and a strawberry oat parfait prepared by my husband Ulesstir. The cook himself was standing by the table. He bowed to me and pulled out my chair once I walked in. I stopped to leer at his ass for several long moments (Ulesstir wears pants that don't cover his rear when guests are not expected), admiring several fresh diagonal welts I had left myself during last night's demonstration. He should know better than to gag while I fart on his face! I couldn't help running my fingers over one of the welts before taking my seat. He does try to put up a tough facade, but it crumbled this morning and a pained moan escaped his lips. As it usually does under my touch!
The breakfast itself was delicious and over before I knew it. I complimented Ulesstir on his cooking, in response to which he blushed in the most adorable way, and then I retired to my office to work. Today's agenda began with a conference call with the South American branch office heads to present their 5-year plans. It was early morning for them, but fortunately the first couple of presentations were direct and straightforward. Unfortunately, the call eventually made its way to an older fellow I've learned to dread. This particular man had a way of finding money where nobody else could, or else we would have replaced him years ago. He was by no means unpleasant, but he was decidedly a bore.
Halfway through his presentation, as he was droning on about fishing subsidies, I grew bored and surreptitiously rang for Ulesstir. He slipped into the room no less than sixty seconds later. I made a gesture by holding out my right ring finger and tipping it downwards. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, and I amused myself for the next several minutes by flicking it and watching it bounce. My muscular husband has a sensitive glans, as I believe most men do, and I always find joy in watching him wince when my nail catches it in just such a way. It took a few minutes for his penis to stiffen enough to stop bouncing, which ended up being just enough time for Albert to finally wrap up his monologue. I asked the senior employee a few clarifying questions when he at last paused to allow them. It's not as if I can't listen to a lecture and fiddle with a toy at the same time!
Now then, my lunch has settled well in my stomach, and I feel the urge for a brisk walk before attacking this afternoon's stack of paperwork. On with the day!
Date: Saturday, October 16th,
Time: Night
Weather: Perfectly Sunny!
I suppose depending on where in the world one hails from, the rituals of marriage may exist in a different form, or not at all. It therefore feels incumbent on me to describe how I came to be married to my two wonderful spouses.
For as far back as I can remember, I was raised to be a daughter worthy of the Langsbury family. Acumen, avarice, and assertiveness. These were the tenets my mother instilled in me from before I could even stand on two legs. A Langsbury woman must have the acumen to take advantage of the most complex situations, the avarice to claim whatever she can for herself, and assertiveness enough to stand by her claim when it is challenged. For my great aunt Edna, that meant finding cause to expel the board of directors after they tried to seize her husband's company from her after his untimely death. For my dear mother Tipla, it meant aggressive pursuit of the global market in regions where most businessmen were to terrified to go. For my older sister Searsen, it meant getting doctorates in both chemistry and electrical engineering, so she could better identify how emergent forms of power generation would mesh with existing power grids. For my younger sister Centi, it meant financially dominating what sometimes seems like every eligible bachelor in high society. But for me, it meant keeping the two best men I ever came across firmly in my grasp.
In my childhood, I attended schools for girls from elementary through high school, so I only really began to experience the opposite sex in any meaningful way once my university days began. Mother and Searsen had told me stories, of course, and given me lectures on how to use my feminine weapons to bring a man to heel, but I had yet to have the opportunity to test any such techniques. On my first day on campus, I found myself lost and unable to find the building for my first afternoon class, Introduction to Ethics. I asked a passing gentleman if he knew where Spindlespan Hall was, and as luck would have it, he happened to be heading there. We walked together, and the well-dressed man explained that he was earning his way through university as a model. He had just been on his way there from a photoshoot! Floris and I lunched multiple times over the next several days, and I admit I found his opinions on fashion and silver-tongued compliments to be quite charming.
Two weeks later, my future husband invited me out to a party. It was at that party, after Floris' first cup of beer knocked him senseless, when I saw a man whose muscles spoke for themselves. He had quaffed down a half-dozen cups of beer in some sort of contest I still don't fully understand, but his speech was still quite lucid until I walked over to greet him. I recall he quickly became tongue tied, but one of the similarly sculpted gentlemen in his entourage gave him a nudge my way, and I escorted him to the couch. I gave him my name and explained that I had come with a friend who couldn't handle his liquor. Ulesstir finally found his words again, and introduced himself as captain of the rugby team. I had had little interest in sports, but he had an adorable way about him when he was expounding on a topic he clearly loved. I felt comfortable with him, and after a few hours on the couch with the distance between us slowly closing, I took his arm and enlisted his help carrying my incapacitated friend home. We slung Floris' half-conscious body over our shoulders and hailed a taxi back to my off-campus apartment. I gave Ulesstir an orgasm with my stocking-clad toes that night, and explained to him that I would give a similar one to Floris in the morning. I made it very clear to both of them that same morning that I would entertain both of their interests in me.
And so we came to spend a good deal of time together. Floris and I cheered for Ulesstir at his matches. Ulesstir and I attended Floris' fashion shows as VIP guests. Floris and Ulesstir even bonded over their love of mystery stories, though my understanding is that the dandy loved murder mysteries and the hunk loved legal procedurals. When it came time for us to graduate, I gathered the two of them together and informed them I wouldn't stand for us going our separate ways, and presented each with their own silver engagement ring. A sapphire for Floris, and an emerald for Ulesstir. It goes without saying they happily agreed, and we had several very fine hours of sex that same night. Simply put, I decided to keep both for myself. My great aunt Edna's sage advice - When life presents you with two gifts, consider first the possibility of accepting both. After all, why should I, Lamentia Langsbury, be forced to abandon the raw animal thrill of vaginal sex with Ulesstir while my fingers claw his back out, or the sophisticated pleasure of penetrating Floris' anus and urethra at the same time? Certainly, there's no reason that comes to mind!
Each fiance had to surrender something truly precious to him as proof of his loyalty to me. In Floris' case, he was forbidden from choosing his own clothing, and would only be able to wear uniforms I myself selected. That usually means maid uniforms, but I can't say I've been entirely averse to dressing my husband like a sexy male nurse. In Ulesstir's case, he was forbidden from following any form of sporting event on the radio or television. This was partially a matter of my preference - the commercials that air during such events are terribly banal. However, the more athletic Mr. Lamentia Langsbury was so dutiful and honest over the first several years of our marriage that, for our fifth anniversary, I purchased a minority share in a professional football franchise. I scarcely watch the games we attend, but the childlike gleam in his eyes when he watches the pitch from our skybox is pleasure aplenty for me.
Floris, incidentally, hasn't behaved himself nearly well enough to be afforded a similar gift. I love him, but that man is a pathological liar and needs to learn to tell me the truth!
At any rate, today marked a rare sunny day in October, and I decided there would be no better way to spend it than to take my husbands out for a day of shopping. Floris dressed me in a burnt orange turtleneck sweater with an aquamarine broach, complimented by a long black peacoat, a pair of similarly black trousers, and black faux leather driving gloves. He himself wore a woolly white cardigan over his usual maid's uniform. Ulesstir wore a red overcoat and grey pants that, in a lamentable concession to proletarian taste, covered his rear in full.
We set out to a boutique that's been a favorite of Floris' and mine. I spent several hours trying on a number of formal dresses, blouses, and pants, and Floris gave his honest opinion on how each matched my complexion and would play in certain situations. Fortunately, my husband is respectful of the colors I prefer (maroon, burnt orange, black, and grey), even if I know his natural inclination is towards more flashy hues. As we went on, Ulesstir's toned arms became fuller and fuller with a heavy pile of clothing. We paid and ended up leaving the shop with instructions for their house tailor, as my measurements had changed slightly since our last visit. Which ones? Well, journal, that's my little secret!
But the time we finished up our little clothing excursion, it was about time for our lunch. As it happened, Centi had recommended a new Polish restaurant that had opened up quite near the boutique. We sat down in a private booth and ordered a dish of roast duck served with apples and potatoes which came out big enough for the three of us. I had Ulesstir carve the duck once it arrived from the kitchen, but stopped him before he took a helping. I removed my heels and stockings, then pinched a small cut of the meat between my toes and held it out to him. He'd been silent and let me take plenty of time to decide on my purchases, despite a decided lack of interest in fashion on his part. His reward was to eat from the soles of my feet, fresh with the smell of a morning out and about. I took an apple slice with the toes of my other foot and offered Floris the same privilege, as his advice had been invaluable today. How soothing it is to watch one's husbands eat out of the palm of one's...feet!
In the afternoon, we returned home in time for an evening conference call of mine. It was long, but not exhausting. As I wasn't feeling particularly stressed by the end of the day's work at ten PM, I rang for Floris. The good boy arrived in my room soon after with my favorite strap-on and a bottle of lubricant. He knows me so well! I set him on all fours on the bed and gave him three orgasms, then lay down and had him return the favor with his tongue. We fell asleep in each others' arms, and I had cause to give thanks again for my husband's warm embrace.
Date: Sunday, October 24th
Time: Evening
Weather: Cloudy (much like my current mood)
My work week begins again on Monday morning, but I can barely remember my schedule. I haven't been this angry in a long, long while! My husbands can be so VEXING at times!
The forecast this morning predicted clouds but no rain, and I had managed to free up the day on my schedule entirely. This meant I finally had a chance to go horseback riding. I keep an excellent stallion stabled in a members-only equestrian club up in the country. I've named him Stardust, for the white flecks of hair in his midnight black coat. He's powerful, but we've been together for some time and he knows to treat me gently. Unfortunately, I'd been working on closing a deal lately and haven't had a chance to see him for six weeks. So, I had Floris dress me in my best black turtleneck and maroon riding jacket, plus a pair of beige breeches, and Ulesstir got the car and drove us all up to the club. I enjoyed the ride up, fooling around with Floris' penis in the back seat and bringing him to the edge of an orgasm, only to stop just short. And the time, I had debated letting him go all the way, but in hindsight I'm quite glad I didn't. Imagine my surprise when I walked into my equipment shed and found the state of my riding equipment to be wholly unacceptable. The tack still had sweat from my last riding excursion, and had gathered some dust in the interim. One of the buckles on my halter was tarnished, and the leather on my saddle was hard as a stone! There was even *mud* on my best black faux leather riding boots, and scuff marks that anyone could tell needed polishing.
Floris and Ulesstir supposedly make the trip up here twice a month to handle routine maintenance, so I had to ask them what was wrong. I thought, naively, that they may have missed something, or the wear may have happened due to weather after they left. However, when I brought them in to take a look, only Floris seemed surprised. And what an actor he is! Ulesstir was staring at the ground, clearly guilty. When I asked him if there was something he wanted to tell me, he nodded and told me the whole story.
Marriage is a relationship where trust is essential! If a wife gives a husband a chore, it must be carried out. I can understand that life may get in the way of our best laid plans. But if there's a reason why they can't do that, it's their job to communicate that. I try to be understanding, to let mistakes be mistakes. But when I found out they had neglected their duties to handle my riding gear, spoiling my mood on my first chance to go riding in weeks, so they could go out for ICE CREAM?! Shirking their duties entirely? I was LIVID!!
Right then and there, I had the two of them kneel on the floor of the equipment shed. I grabbed a tin of wax and some cloths, but set them down on the floor in front of them and had a seat myself on a nearby cushioned bench. I extended each of my boots towards a husband, Ulesstir on the right, Floris on the left. I explained that they were to lick my boots clean of mud posthaste, after which they would polish out the scuff marks using more traditional means. They set to work with panicked energy. Normally the sights of Floris working his pristine tongue, of Ulesstir gagging on the dirt as he worked along the leathery surface would have been pleasing to watch. However, I was seeing red and barely noticed any of it until my more muscular husband finished licking and moved on to the polish, making the boot a nice, shiny black. Floris, noticing he was falling behind, worked at double speed when he saw this, even using his tongue instead of cloth to more effectively spread the black, bitter wax over the scuffed areas, but it would scarcely matter. The moment that lying dandy hesitated to tell the truth, he had earned the harsher punishment. I told him he could expect to be nursing his rear through the skirt of his maid uniform for days.
Cleaning my boots took a short while, for as rushed as they were, my husbands knew better than to do a sloppy job twice. After they were clean, I kicked Floris in the chest a few times and sent Ulesstir to the main building to fetch my whipping cane, a fine custom piece of carved rattan. The kicks were not Floris' punishment, just venting on my account!
Why did I have Ulesstir fetch the cane, you ask? Having the object of discipline fetch the cane, and having Floris bear his punishment second, serves two ends of the same purpose. In a relationship, true power is not merely the ability to inflict pain or injury if an order is not followed, but to induce fear before needing to take such direct action. When Ulesstir carries the cane which is to be used on him, he will know and dread what it is to be used for. When Floris sees the much more sturdy and robust Ulesstir taking blows which make him howl, each scream will remind him that his wispy frame is about to receive the same treatment. Disappointing your wife, betraying her trust, must be deterred by more than mere physical pain. Mental control, and even mental chastisement, is a must!
When Ulesstir came back several minutes later with the cane, I held it in my hands, inspecting it. As usual, it was firm and lightweight, easy to swish around. I gave it a few test swings, then sliced the air with a more powerful stroke. I could see both my husbands breaking out in a cold sweat. My order for Ulesstir to remove his pants was promptly complied with. He lay on his chest on the bench, buttocks exposed. Floris, used to the caning routine, by now, walked to the other end and knelt in front of Ulesstir. The two linked hands so that however much my taller husband thrashed about, he would not be thrown off of the padded bench. Mind, this is not the only benefit of this arrangement. When the two hold hands and brace each other, the caning ceases to be a private, intimate act between husband and wife. It instead becomes a competition, and a cooperative exercise. A competition, because neither wants to be seen as less remorseful than the other husband. A cooperative exercise, because as the two squeeze each others' hands, they lessen the crushing impact of pain and provide a healthy outlet. The competive angle pleases me because I will never tire of seeing them fight for me. The cooperative angle is normally of little note, but it does help them take more strokes on days such as this one where the cane serves as a vessel for my own sincere fury.
I have little recollection of the individual strokes, such was the boiling crescendo of emotions inside me at the time. I recall Ulesstir gritting his teeth and holding his voice in, though not for long. I recall they switched positions at some point, and I recall Floris screamed with overt, unbridled agony not long into his turn for a caning. But I could not, for example, recount how many strokes I gave. When I deliver a true punishment, no one keeps count.
After their asses were both thoroughly reddened, I stood the two up and waited. Floris was the first to look me in the eyes, tears welling from his beady black eyes like gems of light. His words were, "Lamentia dear, I not only deceived you up until today, I tried to avoid my own responsibility. Today's discipline was just and well-deserved, and I appreciate they time you took to punish me. I will endeavor not to disappoint you like this in the future." Ulesstir cleared his throat next, bending his knees slightly to meet me at eye level. He spoke, "Lamentia, dear, you deserve my best efforts, and you deserve the truth. I'm sorry for failing you on both counts. I can, will, and must do better." I've taught my husbands how to give a proper apology, a lesson they have thankfully learned.
Once their apologies were given, I left the two alone for several minutes and went to our car to get a pair of signboards with string we carry around everywhere. For just such an occasion, as it happens. When I returned to the shed, I took a marker and wrote words on each, then hung them around the corresponding man's neck so the words could be seen from behind. Floris wore the words TROUBLEMAKER as he had initiated their mischief and failed to tell the truth. Ulesstir wore the word SLOUCH, as his greatest crime in this was shirking his duties. I took each by the hand and marched them into the main clubhouse, positioning them in the corner. They turned towards the wall, Floris with his skirt tied up around his waist and Ulesstir with his pants pulled down to his knees, their asses faced where incoming patrons could have a good look at them. It is so nice to belong to a club that understands proper discipline!
...Wouldn't you know it? Writing this journal entry has helped clear my mood. I can never stay mad at my lovely husbands for too long. I should go fetch a jar of ointment from the equipment shed and see if they are sincerely sorry. It might be too late for horseback riding, but perhaps I could salvage some entertainment by riding them around the mansion tonight. I'd hate to have had these boots polished for nothing!
~END~
