Читать книгу S is for Spanking - Lucy Salisbury - Страница 5

Five years had passed since my relationship with Juliette Fisher, but what we’d done together had left an indelible mark. For all my success at university and in the jobs market I’d never been able to get over my love for shameful erotic situations, and the slightest mention of spanking still made my tummy flutter, while the thought of the cane terrified me. As PA to the boss of an old, established and traditional company I’d had to keep my feelings to myself, aside from a few glorious moments of self-indulgence with boyfriends and with my colleague, Stacey Atkinson.

Stacey was a carefully guarded secret because for all that the company paid lip service to tolerance and equality we both knew full well that a lesbian affair would hurt our careers, while even a hint of anything kinky was likely to bring them to an abrupt halt. We both knew the risks, but I needed my fix of punishment and humiliation just as she needed hers for sex with another woman, which made us an ideal match. Otherwise I’d kept a strict rule of never accepting a proposition from anybody within the company or associated with the company. It was a shame, because I’d had several tempting offers, but I knew what would happen if I accepted. If the night was a success I’d let myself go, demanding the satisfaction of my deeper needs, including having my bottom smacked. Boys will be boys, and they do like to boast, so it was sure to be all over the office within a few days, with disastrous consequences.

When I was put up for a management training course in the West Country I was delighted to find that Stacey would be there too, but I was less happy to discover that three of our male colleagues were also going. There was Alastair Renton, a busy young man who looked as if he ought to have been a Spitfire pilot and was plainly fast-tracked for the top; Daniel Chambers, pushier still and even better looking, with a bad reputation to match, but just not as good, and Paul Yates, a great bear of a man said to be brilliant on computers but with a reputation as the office clown. The course was all about leadership and involved a lot of running around in the countryside, while every second word in the brochure we’d been given seemed to be ‘team’, but I still hoped to find the occasional private moment with Stacey during what looked like being a highly physical and challenging couple of weeks.

The great thing about having a clandestine relationship with another woman is that you can get away with far more than an ordinary couple could, or even two men. When Stacey and I said we’d forego our places in the minibus and take the train down the day before my boss made a comment about sticking with the team, but that was all. Nor did the staff at The Plough, a remote country pub where we’d chosen to stay the night, show any surprise when we booked a double room. We were in a tiny village more than five miles from Camp Aspiration, where the course was happening, and as we unloaded our bags I was looking forward to a delightfully naughty afternoon.

Our room was tucked in under the eaves at the top of the building, with a single, small window looking out over the beer garden and across the woods and fields of the Exe Valley, with the loom of Dartmoor beyond. Just to breathe the air was a pleasure, after being stuck in London all winter, while I couldn’t help but feel carefree, even irresponsible. We hadn’t quite had the nerve to ask for a double bed, but both the ones we’d been given were big enough for two, at least while we were up to no good. I bounced down on the one nearest the window and lay back, my arms and legs spread out in a star.

‘This should be a lot of fun, being with you anyway. I expect the course will be pretty silly.’

Stacey turned from where she’d been investigating the bathroom.

‘Why silly?’

‘Oh, you know, all this team business and outdoor stuff, when management’s really all about who you know and how you look and that sort of thing. Do you think Mr Scott would have chosen me as his PA if I’d been short and dumpy with a thick Birmingham accent?’

‘No, probably not, but going on the course will look good on our CVs.’

‘Oh, I know that, but I don’t expect it to be of any real practical value. It’s just boys’ games, really, you know, an excuse to show off a bit of machismo.’

‘You are going to try, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, of course, if only to show Daniel and Alastair up, but don’t expect me to volunteer for anything that involves getting unnecessarily wet or muddy. The boys can do it while we look on in admiration, staying nice and clean and dry.’

She laughed.

‘You know your trouble, Lucy. You’ve had it too easy. I bet you were daddy’s little princess, weren’t you?’

‘I was at public school, most of the time, and it wasn’t easy at all.’

‘Oh, you poor baby! Weren’t the servants sufficiently respectful? Was the caviar not of the best quality?’

It was my turn to laugh, remembering what it had really been like, but her mocking tone had got to me and I couldn’t resist answering her back.

‘We didn’t get caviar, but the servants were mostly girls like you, only they knew their place.’

I knew what was going to happen and was already snatching for a pillow as she scrambled across the other bed to get at me. My blow caught her full across the side of her face and from that moment I was in serious trouble. She called me a bitch as she pulled back to grab one of the pillows from the other bed, which left her in a crawling position for one perfect moment, with the seat of her tight blue jeans a perfect target. I brought my pillow home with every ounce of my strength, full across her bottom, a small victory but a very satisfying one. It was also my last.

She was on me in an instant, twisting around to bring her pillow down on my head, and once again before she stood up, towering above me as she rained down blows. I tried to defend myself, smacking my pillow at her legs and hips, but she was bigger and stronger. She also wanted to win, while my will to resist was fading with every smack of her pillow on my body. I soon rolled back, my efforts to hit her ever more pathetic as she laid in, hard and accurate, until I lost my pillow and curled up, my hands covering my face, my bottom on offer as a target. She took full advantage of my surrender, pummelling me with the pillow as I begged for mercy, although that was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t get it either, smack after smack applied to my back and legs and arms, but with ever more attention to my bottom, until at last she threw her pillow aside, twisted one of my arms into the small of my back and began to use her hand instead, talking to me as she gave hard, purposeful slaps to the seat of my jeans.

‘Girls like me, were they, Lucy? Girls who knew their place? I bet they did, and I bet they knew yours too, miss high-and-mighty, hoity-toity public school girl, swanning around like the stuck-up little bitch you are. Giving out orders and having them run around after you all day, was it? Yeah, sure, that’s really you. More like over their knees with your panties pulled down and your bottom bare for a good spanking, which is exactly what you’re about to get!’

‘No! Please, Stacey, not that. Don’t spank me, please!’

She just laughed at me, enjoying my discomfort as I began to squirm in her grip but knowing full well that the only way to really punish me would be to stop. That wasn’t going to happen, because whatever my reaction, she was going to thoroughly enjoy taking her feelings out on my bottom. Her sense of social inferiority was very real, which meant it was going to hurt, and that she’d do her best to humiliate me as well. Sure enough, the spanking stopped and her hand burrowed in to tug at the button of my jeans as she spoke once more.

‘Right, you little snob, let’s have these trousers down and see how superior you look with your knickers on show. Get your legs down, now!’

A hard slap to my thighs and I’d done as I was told, uncurling to let her get at my jeans, which had quickly been pulled down around my thighs to leave the pretty pink silk panties I’d chosen that morning on display. She gave a tut of mock disapproval and treated herself to a quick feel of my bottom before she went on.

‘Oh very fancy! Quite the little princess, aren’t you? I bet you even wear a matching bra, don’t you?’

‘So do you!’

She ignored my comment as she pulled up my blouse to inspect my bra, gave another scornful little tut when she discovered it was in the same style as my panties, then abruptly tugged it up to spill out my breasts. I couldn’t help but protest.

‘Not my tits, Stacey! Why do I need my tits bare to be spanked?’

‘Maybe I want to spank your tits?’

My response was a squeal as she suited action to word, slapping her open palm across the side of one bare breast and then the other. It stung far worse than across my bottom and I couldn’t help but defend myself, only to have my wrists caught and my arms pinned under her legs as she climbed up onto the bed. With me squirming helpless in her grip she began to slap my breasts again, her face full of excitement and cruelty as she watched my flesh jiggle to the smacks.

‘Ow! Stacey, that hurts!’

‘It’s supposed to hurt, you silly bitch, and it’s much more satisfying than smacking your fat little arse. You enjoy that too much.’

‘Don’t be a bitch, please, Stacey? Ow! Ow!’

She just laughed and gave another hard slap across both my boobs, which had now begun to pink up, while my nipples looked as if they were about to pop. I closed my eyes, trying to resign myself to my punishment but unable to hold back my cries or stop myself from wriggling about as she continued work on my chest, slapping my boobs up to a rosy pink colour before she finally decided to turn her attention to my bottom.

‘Right then, enough of that. Roll over.’

I obeyed, snivelling slightly and feeling very sorry for myself indeed as I turned face down on the bed. She straddled my back, seating herself so that she could keep me in place and get at my bottom. I could feel the heat of her sex through her jeans, bringing to mind what was sure to be done to me once I’d been punished, but I had to get through my spanking first. Stacey knew she had me helpless, both physically and mentally, and her voice was calm and amused as she spoke again.

‘Right then, let’s see shall we, what’s to be done with you? First, as you have such pretty panties on, I think they’d better come down, don’t you? It would be a shame to ruin them, after all. There we are, bare bottom, and don’t you look pretty?’

She’d pulled my knickers down as she spoke, inverting them around my thighs to join the tangled cloth of my jeans and leaving me bare and ready, my smarting breasts already naked and now my bottom too. My spanking began, Stacey laughing as she started to slap my cheeks, one hand on each to make my flesh bounce and my slit open to show off my anus. I buried my face in the coverlet, letting the awful shame of my position sink slowly in, a smart, professional woman stripped and spanked by her friend. It was hard to imagine a more undignified position, for all I knew that there were plenty of ways she could have made it worse for me, like stripping me nude, making me kneel so that my wet, open cunt showed to the room, or sticking something up me while I was beaten. None of it would have been any more than window dressing, just as having my jeans and knickers pulled down was, and even the pain of Stacey’s increasingly hard slaps. What really mattered was that I was taking a spanking, willingly, and the way I reacted to it, so turned on that in no time at all I’d begun to stick my bottom up for more. Stacey laughed to see the state I was in.

‘Oh dear, what a little slut you are! You really like it, don’t you?’

She never had fully understood, but that made it all the more exciting when she did it, along with the faint contempt she could never quite conceal. This time she didn’t even bother to try, her voice openly mocking as she continued to spank me.

‘How can you get off on this, Lucy? I mean, seriously, to let somebody spank you, as if you’ve been a naughty little girl, and to get off on it! And all the business about having your panties pulled down and being made to go bare afterwards, with your little red bum on parade around your own fucking flat! You are such a dirty little slut, but I do love you for it, and I’ve got to say, I love doing it to you.’

I’d given in completely, my bottom stuck high to the smacks, every word she’d said burning in my mind. She was beating on my cheeks as if she was playing the bongos, another way she liked to play with my bottom, but I wanted it harder, and I wanted to come.

‘Use something on me, Stacey. Make me come.’

She gave a curt little tut, but leant across to where I’d put my hairbrush down on my bedside table, half hoping it might end up being used on my bottom. I knew I could make it, if she got the smacks just right, across the tuck of my cheeks so that every impact sent a jolt to my cunt. The very first made me cry out in mingled ecstasy and pain, because it hurt a lot more than her hand, and as she set up a firm, even rhythm across my cheeks she’d begun to talk to me once more.

‘Just look at you, Lucy. You really should be ashamed of yourself, shouldn’t you? I know you are, deep down, and that’s what really gets you off, isn’t it? But just think how much worse it could be. If only the boys in the office could know. Imagine it, Miss Lucinda Salisbury, the ice princess, the one woman who never, ever lets her guard down, and she likes her bare bottom spanked! Imagine if Daniel and Alastair and fat boy Paul were here to see you now, with your panties down and your red bum cheeks spread open to show off your little pink arsehole and your lovely wet cunt.’

I’d begun to moan, unable to hold back my excitement even as my body jerked to the hard smacks now being delivered full across the fleshy turn of my bum cheeks. My thoughts followed the scene she was painting, with the three young men watching me being punished just to add to my awful humiliation, enjoying the view of my bare, smacked tits and my wriggling bottom, my twitching bumhole and open cunt, as well as my helpless arousal and the thought of how they might take advantage.

‘They’d fuck me, Stacey. They’d push you off and fuck me.’

‘Oh no they wouldn’t, darling. They wouldn’t need to. I’d sit on your back while they did you, taking turns to make you suck their cocks hard while I spanked you, then spit roasting you, with Daniel and Alastair in your mouth and up your cunt, from behind, Lucy, with your sweet little bottom spread to show you off while he fucks you. That’s right, darling, one in each hole, and Paul would take photographs to put on the net, photographs of you getting your smacked bottom fucked while you suck cock, you filthy, darling little bitch! That’s right, Lucy, come, come while I spank you!’

As she spoke she’d been spanking all the time, harder and harder, until I finally hit my peak, screaming out in ecstasy as my body locked in orgasm. She let me finish, just, before tossing the hairbrush aside and lifting her bottom to let me twist around beneath her. I knew what was coming, still in breathless ecstasy as she pushed down her jeans and straddled me once more, squatting over my face with her cunt against my mouth as she spoke again.

‘You’re right, Lucy, I do know my place, sat on top of you with my pussy in your face. Now get licking!’

* * *

Once she was done, Stacey and I got into bed, meaning to cuddle for a little before going out to explore the area. Drowsy with sex and the warm, spring air, we were soon asleep and didn’t wake up until nearly six. We showered together, slipped on light dresses we’d both brought in the hope of relatively civilised evenings and went downstairs to eat. The Plough was a typical old-fashioned country pub, with a large public bar and a saloon that doubled up as the restaurant. We chose an alcove where a window opened out through one of the immensely thick walls, allowing us to sit in comfort and privacy while watching what was going on around us. Part of the public bar was visible through an open door, and as we sat sipping wine and waiting for our food we’d both begun to study the locals. Stacey knew my tastes and couldn’t resist teasing.

‘Which one for you then? How about the one who looks like a lumberjack boss?’

‘Stacey! If you mean the man in the red shirt, he has to be sixty, at least.’

‘So what? He’s big, he’s rough, and just look at his hands.’

I couldn’t help but do it, my eyes going straight to where Stacey had indicated. He’d just lifted his pint of beer, and I had to admit that she had a point. His hands were huge, his skin rough and dark from the sun and the wind, his fingers at least twice as thick as my own. If he’d been holding me, each hand could have cupped most of my bottom, and I immediately found myself imagining how it would feel to be across his knee, which sent the blood rushing to my face. Stacey laughed for how easily she’d got to me and tried again.

‘Or how about Redbeard the Pirate over there, at the table next to the bar? He must be six foot six, and he looks just the sort to carry you off over his shoulder and do unspeakable things to you in the bushes.’

She knew full well it was one of my favourite fantasies, while the man also looked quite like my boyfriend, Magnus, back in London, so I stuck my tongue out at her and tried to get her back.

‘How about you then? Maybe the old boy drinking red wine, the military type. He’d soon have you doing drill, and when you messed up …’

She knew what I was implying, as she was from an army family, and her mouth came open in shock as the blood went to her face in turn.

‘Lucy, you are the limit! Anyway, I don’t go for older men, unlike you. There’s only one man I’d even consider, Mr Blue at the far end of the bar.’

It was obvious who she meant. He was a little over six foot tall, with a pale-blue top that showed every detail of a superbly muscled torso, baggy white tracksuit bottoms that nevertheless hinted at an intriguingly large bulge in his crotch, and obviously expensive trainers. I couldn’t really deny that he was attractive, but while he undoubtedly radiated confidence, even arrogance, he seemed to me to lack the charm a man like that needs in order to appeal to me. There was something else too, perhaps in the way he held himself, maybe simply the way he was dressed, or something less easily defined.

‘He’s gay.’

‘What, because he’s showing off his muscles? He’s probably been running.’

‘Why isn’t he sweating then?’

‘OK, so he’s about to go for a run.’

At that moment the man turned in our direction too suddenly to allow us to hide our rather obvious attention. I found myself blushing again, but Stacey merely smiled, far better able to handle the situation than I was. Fortunately we were saved by the landlord, who’d just asked Mr Blue a question, and the arrival of our food. Nevertheless, I was feeling a little uneasy as we settled down to eat, and all the more so when I was obliged to make a trip to the loo and found his eyes following me all the way and all the way back. Stacey was merely amused, and a little excited.

‘He’s not gay then, is he? His eyes were glued to your arse, not that I blame him, if you must wiggle like that, you little show off.’

‘I wasn’t wiggling! What if he makes a pass at me?’

‘Turn him down. Maybe he’ll try me instead.’

‘Stacey, you wouldn’t! You’re supposed to be with me, at least while we’re away together.’

‘That’s OK, you can watch. Or maybe I’ll spank you in front of him to get things going. I bet he’d love that, right after you’d turned him down.’

‘Stacey!’

‘I’m only joking, silly. He is nice, but like you say, we’re together. Besides, if he approached you first I’d hardly take him up on an offer later, would I? I do have some pride. Shall I get another bottle?’

‘Yes, why not?’

The man continued to watch us as we drank our wine, sometimes from the corner of his eyes, sometimes openly. Stacey had grown bored with the game and ignored him, but it was harder for me because of where I was sitting; I found it impossible not to glance in his direction from time to time. He noticed and his interest increased, making me ever more flustered and less able to look away. I was sure he was going to come over to us at any moment, and wasn’t at all looking forward to the embarrassment of having to turn him down. Finally Stacey got fed up with my behaviour.

‘Look, Lucy, if you want to go three in a bed that’s fine, but either go and invite him over or stop flirting with him.’

‘I’m not flirting with him!’

‘Yes you are, and you know it. OK, I’ll go and talk to him then.’

She’d already half risen and I quickly reached out to put my hand over hers and stop her, although I was no longer sure what I wanted. The wine we’d drunk had started to get to me, and he did have a very fine body, while Stacey’s threat to spank me in front of him had triggered one of my favourite fantasies, punishment in front of a man who then got to do as he pleased with my body, which would be more humiliating by far if I’d turned him down earlier. He’d seen it too, and now he knew that something was up, bringing my feelings of shame and uncertainty up further still. Stacey spoke as she sat down again.

‘You go then. Look, he’s looking right at you.’

He was, leaning against the bar with his drink in one hand, watching us with open admiration. I imagined his amusement as I was turned over Stacey’s knee in front of him, and how he’d be thinking what a little pervert I was to get off on being spanked by my friend even as his cock started to grow to the sight of my rear view being exposed. Or maybe he’d want to do me too, and once I’d been reduced to a red-bottomed, tear-stained mess he’d certainly want me to take his cock in my mouth and complete my humiliation by sucking him off. I could do it too, if I just had a few minutes of easy, friendly conversation to let me know that whatever his reaction to my sexuality he genuinely thought of me as more than just a sexy body with a set of conveniently wet holes to stick his erection into.

‘OK, I’ll do it.’

I got up, less than perfectly steady on my feet and feeling very insecure indeed. He saw and gave me a grin that was pure, arrogant self-assurance, to which I returned a nervous smile. I reached the bar and he said something I didn’t catch as the landlady spoke to me, asking if Stacey and I would like any dessert. The moment was broken, and once I’d politely refused and she’d moved away I found myself standing next to him at the bar, completely lost. He wasn’t, moving close and putting one strong hand on the small of my back as he spoke.

‘Hey, Blondie, how about I slip eight inches of rock-hard dick up your sweet little cunt?’

As he spoke his hand had strayed down to the turn of my bottom. It was far too much, far too soon. Before I really knew what I was doing I’d swung around, to plant a slap full across his face, hard enough to knock him back and leave a livid handprint on his flesh. For one awful moment I thought he was going to hit me back, but he got himself under control just as the landlord returned to the bar, while three men at the nearest table had half risen from their seats. There was a brief, aggressive exchange of words, which I barely took in save that the other four males all seemed keen to take my side. Then Mr Blue had swallowed his drink at a gulp and walked out even as the landlord told him he was barred, which left me trying to assure four men and Stacey that everything was alright.

It wasn’t. I felt guilty, both for the way I’d reacted, which wasn’t really fair, and for the way everybody else had turned on Mr Blue. Stacey and I had been flirting, and even if he’d overstepped the mark he hadn’t deserved his face slapped and the very public humiliation of being thrown out of the pub. I wanted to apologise, and I felt drunk and off balance too, so pretended I was in need of a trip to the Ladies and then slipped outside. It was dark, with a single yellow light illuminating a double line of cars and trees showing black against a starry sky beyond. There was no sign of Mr Blue, save possibly a pair of red tail lights moving away down the lane, but the fresh air was very welcome indeed.

I walked to the end of the car park, where an ancient and wheel-less Volkswagen camper van had been left to rust beside the hedge. It gave me the shelter I felt I needed and I propped myself against it, drinking in the cool, clean air in an effort to clear my head, only to jump at the sound of approaching footsteps.

‘You OK, love?’

‘Yes, really …’

It was Redbeard the Pirate, who’d been among the men keen to take my side. We spoke for a moment, and there was no mistaking his desire for me. I half wanted to give in, but couldn’t overcome my own ill feelings for what had just happened until he put an arm around my shoulder, an arm like a tree trunk. I stiffened automatically, but only for an instant before I’d allowed myself to be gathered in against his chest. He began to talk, in a rumbling bass, attempting to comfort me with clumsy words that I barely heard. Yet I couldn’t help but react to his touch, my body trembling badly, and it was just too easy to accept the comfort of his arms.

I could feel a hard bulge swelling against my belly even as he assured me there was nothing to worry about. Had he simply taken me then and there I wouldn’t have resisted. My defences were down and I was drunk and horny, as well as feeling guilty for being a tease, and he was so very obviously turned on. Yet I knew that it would have to be me who made the first open move. I didn’t say a word as I slid his zip open, nor as I went down on my knees to pull out his cock, straight into my mouth. He reacted with a low moan, but accepted his tribute, letting me suck as he leant back against the side of the camper van. The feel of his cock in my mouth was more comforting than anything, at first, but as he began to stiffen up I was getting increasingly eager. My hand went up my dress and down the front of my panties as I began to masturbate him into my mouth.

His hand settled on the back of my head, to take me gently but firmly by the hair, holding me in place. I had no intention of stopping, but it felt nice, a big, strong male hand to make sure I gave my blow job properly. He’d already begun to groan, and I began to rub harder, my fingers bumping over my clitoris as I sucked and licked and kissed at his straining erection, trying to be a good girl for him but determined to keep him back from the edge until I too was ready to come. Only when I felt my cunt begin to tighten did I take him deep in once more, as far as I could, deliberately squashing his helmet into my throat to make myself gag, a gloriously dirty thing to do and one with inevitable consequences. I felt his grip tighten in my hair and he gave an urgent grunt, jamming his cock yet deeper into my throat as he came. Spunk erupted into my gullet and I was struggling to swallow and delighting in my own filthy behaviour as I brought myself to a long, hard orgasm with my mouth still full of come and thick, hard cock.