Читать книгу S is for Spanking - Lucy Salisbury - Страница 7

Juliette and I made it back with the drink, and the excitement of sneaking it in even went some way towards keeping down my embarrassment and guilt for the way I’d let myself go in the car. I couldn’t bring myself to look Stacey in the eyes over lunch, for all that I was promising myself I’d tell her the truth and hope that she’d give me some humiliating punishment but wouldn’t really be cross. Our relationship was completely open, in theory, but I couldn’t help feeling I’d betrayed her, not for what I’d done so much as for whom I’d done it with, and because after five years of separation I’d allowed myself to be turned back into Juliette’s obedient little slut within a matter of minutes.

There was no opportunity to confess for the rest of the day, or that night. Parker and his minions kept us busy, first with arranging the camp, then an inspection and a lecture on teamwork and what was expected of us. I’d guessed he would be picking on me from the moment I saw him, and not just because of what had happened the night before. For all his talk of teamwork he was very much the type to play favourites and victims, while I always seem to be the girl who gets picked on, whether it’s for good or for bad. Sure enough, he mentioned ‘Girl O’ almost twice as much as any other person, while his favourites seemed to be Daniel and the brash American, Chad.

After the inspirational lecture came what I’d been dreading all day, a run on the assault course, and not only because of the cold and the mud, but because completing it meant getting into all sorts of undignified positions that risked showing off the tuck of my bottom cheeks and revealing to all the world that I’d been spanked. It seemed inevitable that somebody would notice, especially with the team going one by one, which meant having fourteen no doubt highly sexed young men watch as Stacey, Juliette, Wendy and myself went over the course. I could think of only one way out, and pretended to slip at the start so that I could deliberately sit my bottom down in the first mud puddle, which drew a sarcastic remark from Parker, left the rest of the men laughing and set me blushing hot, but if I was going to be showing off a pair of red cheeks I much preferred them to be the upper ones.

With the assault course complete we were obliged to form a dishevelled, muddy line while we listened to another of Parker’s talks and were given an initial assessment of our ability. Girl O got another roasting, both for being timid and not supporting my teammates, both completely unfair charges. I said nothing, standing meekly to attention as I was given what I was sure would be the first dressing down of many, then making straight for the showers. Unfortunately the arrangement of the camp created an embarrassing situation, quite possibly intentional, but made worse by the brevity of my robe. The laundry was separate from the shower block. My clothes were filthy with mud and so was my skin. If I went back to our hut to fetch my robe, stripped off and carried my dirty clothes to the laundry I’d have to squat to avoid showing my bare bottom as I put my things into the machine. On the other hand, if I stripped off in the showers I’d end up naked and wet, with only the hopelessly inadequate camp towels to cover my modesty as I visited the laundry before retreating to the hut. I didn’t want to get my robe wet either, which would be inevitable if I took it into the baking, steamy shower block. The only conceivable alternative to my robe would have been my mac, except that it was a retro seventies-style one in transparent plastic.

The only chance of preserving any dignity at all was to get into the shower fully dressed, wash myself down, then strip and rinse my clothes as best I could before putting them back on, allowing me to make a dash for the hut in wet running kit. That way I managed to dry off and freshen up in peace, leaving me feeling at least vaguely human. Dinner followed, a brief social hour and then bed, with lights out at nine o’clock prompt. I’d been hoping, but also dreading, that the evening might allow what were obviously interesting possibilities between the four of us to develop, but we were all too tired to think of anything but sleep.

I was woken by the clamour of a bell, mistook it for the office fire alarm, fell out of bed, realised that there wasn’t a fire but that it was six o’clock, and once more found myself cursing Mr Scott, along with Parker and everybody else who’d been involved in landing me in the situation. My entire body ached from the exertions of the day before, while if my two spankings had left me bruised it was no longer possible to distinguish the marks from the ones I’d picked up on the assault course. That only went so far to reduce the embarrassing ritual of visiting the showers, made worse because I’d expected a private bathroom and decided to sleep in panties and a top rather than a proper nightie or PJs.

Breakfast was served in Mess, with the sun still only just up, and followed by a parade, with the four teams now stood separately, each with the leader to the right and a little in front. We were team A, just as Juliette was Girl A, with three all-male teams stood beside us. It was obvious at a glance how Parker had divided us, and who he expected to win, and to lose. Team B included Alastair Renton and three other competent young men, but it was clear that Team C were intended to be the cream, with just three members, including Chad as team leader, Daniel Chambers and Roy Karsen, who looked like Captain America but didn’t seem to speak much. If Team C were the cream, then Team D were the dregs. The leader was Graham Boothe, a big, awkward man who seemed to be all legs and arms, another man who was not only the shortest but the oldest among us all, a boy who looked like Billy Bunter and, inevitably, Paul Yates.

The temptation to step out of line and ask Parker whether he felt that classic bullying tactics were appropriate for a management course was considerable, but I knew he wouldn’t understand, for all that the answer was undoubtedly yes. I didn’t have the guts anyway, but stood as before, as smart and as compliant as could be, answering to ‘Girl O’ despite the sense that I was being somehow molested every time he said it, then bracing my feet apart and holding my hands behind my back just like the others as he began to tell us what the day had in store.

‘It’s a simple test, of fitness, stamina and, of course, teamwork. Each team will be issued a map and a compass. You will then be driven to a base camp and given a set of field co-ordinates, which I will tell you – in case Team D decides they mark the local pub – is a tor near the third highest peak on Dartmoor. You need to get there as fast as you can. Hidden among the rocks is a jar. In the jar are twelve numbered balls. The number on the ball you take is your score for the exercise and Sergeant Reynolds will be up there to make sure there’s no monkey business. The team with the highest aggregate score gets a bonus of twelve points, equally divided between them. The team with the lowest aggregate score gets a penalty of twelve points, just the same. Got that?’

As Chad and others barked out their answers I was suffering from a sinking feeling. The exercise meant a long, hard day, aching muscles, mud and scratches, not at all my idea of entertainment. Not only that, but the outcome was more or less foreordained. Team C would not only win but with just three members they would gain an unfair benefit from the scoring system. Team B would come in behind them, then us, and last of all Team D, which made the whole thing futile. Stacey was keen though, and determined that we should do our best, so I kept my thoughts to myself as we got ready and drove out to a car park beside a reservoir in the middle of a vast forestry plantation. One glance at the map showed that the situation was worse than I’d thought, with miles of rough, boggy ground to cross, most of it steep. The others obviously had no such qualms, even Juliette and Wendy caught up in the moment, so I swallowed my feelings and joined them as they clustered around our map and Stacey worked out the co-ordinates.

‘We’re here, in Fernworthy Forest and our objective is here, Fur Tor. That’s about seven K, as the crow flies. So let’s go.’

She set off at a jog and the rest of us followed, quickly overtaking Team D, who knew where they were going but didn’t look too happy about it, and leaving the others still studying their maps. I couldn’t help but smile as I saw that Juliette was doing her best to outrun Stacey, who responded in turn. Wendy and I were soon well behind and I kept pace with her just to be friendly, running between ranks of tall pines and clearings of freshly cut stumps and broken wood. The sun was well above the trees in a clear blue sky, while the air was gloriously fresh and carried a faint tang of pine resin, all very lovely.

Left to my own devices I’d have spent the morning walking and enjoying my thoughts, perhaps even found a quiet place to strip off for the sheer joy of being in the nude, or to bathe in one of the little streams that ran down to the reservoir, a prospect that made me all the more resentful of Parker and his pointless exercise. I was getting hot too, my thighs already aching as I pushed myself up one slope after another, and by the time I reached the stone wall that marked the edge of the forest I was forced to stop to catch my breath, while my hair was wet with sweat and my top plastered to my breasts.

Wendy was no better and we shared a rueful grin as we sat down together at the top of a big wooden stile. Beyond was bare moor, stretching up to a line of big open hills, with Stacey and Juliette visible a good half-mile ahead, like two little dolls with their black ponytails bobbing behind them. Some of the men were also visible, but they’d taken a different route through the forest and were some way to the north, too far to be sure who was who, although I could recognise Chad’s cries of encouragement to his teammates. To the south the ground sloped down to a broad valley speckled with sheep and cattle, some of which were being herded by a man on a quad bike, presumably a farmer.

‘That’s the way to travel.’

Wendy’s thoughts echoed my own, and I immediately found myself wondering if the scheme was practical. Parker hadn’t said anything about how we got to our objective, and it struck me that borrowing a quad bike would be showing initiative rather than cheating. Getting the farmer to lend it to me was another matter, but that sparked another thought, a very naughty one. One of my favourite fantasies had always been to find myself in a situation in which I had no choice but to hitch a lift and was made to pay by sucking the driver’s cock. Usually I imagined myself ending up penniless in somewhere like Italy or Turkey, and having to pay my way across the width of Europe with some bastard who liked to come three or four times a day and insisted on making me swallow. The situation with the farmer and the quad bike wasn’t as good as that, but it had the great advantage of being real, and attainable. It had the disadvantage that sucking a farmer’s cock in return for a lift wasn’t going to do much good for my precious reputation, but that was only a problem if I got caught, which begged the question: could I trust Wendy? I decided to test her.

‘Yes, but I can guess what he’d expect in return for a lift, let alone borrowing the thing.’

She giggled, which meant she knew what I meant and wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she looked.

‘Pussy as currency.’

Her voice was soft, wistful even, and I found myself slightly shocked, for all that I’d been thinking almost exactly the same thing.

‘You bad girl!’

She’d gone pink, but she’d caught the tone of my voice just as I’d caught hers, and went on.

‘We haven’t any money, so what else are we supposed to pay with?’

I nodded, then swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. Maybe it comes of living a secure life, maybe it’s the way I can’t help but link sex and shame, but I’ve always found the idea of having to prostitute myself appealing. Wendy seemed to be the same, but I wasn’t sure how far she’d go.

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Would you?’

I made a face at her. She’d put the ball straight back in my court, neither of us wanting to be the first to admit to being capable of actually doing anything so inappropriate.

‘We could always ask. Maybe he’d be nice about it, or maybe …’

She smiled as I trailed off, perhaps thinking the same as I was, that maybe he was the sort of dirty bastard who’d put us on our knees together, side by side as we worked on his cock and balls with our mouths and lips and tongues. Without speaking again we climbed down the stile and ran on, angling down towards the valley. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, let alone if I would dare to actually proposition the farmer, with or without Wendy there, but even to be heading towards him felt brave and naughty, a pleasant combination after my earlier feelings.

We soon lost sight of the men, then of Stacey and Juliette, with the flank of the hill sheltering us from the high ground. I was half hoping the farmer would drive away in a different direction, allowing me to escape my decision without losing face in front of Wendy, but he’d stopped beside the little stream at the bottom of the valley and was pouring what was presumably tea into the lid of a thermos. As we drew closer I saw that he was quite young, maybe younger than me, but well built, with a mop of untidy black hair and several days’ worth of stubble, giving him just the sort of rough edge I’ve never been able to resist. Even then I’d have run past with just a nod, only he was far less shy.

‘Morning, girls, out for a run? Time to stop for a dish of tea?’

I came to a halt, leaning my hands on my knees for a moment to get my breath back and let Wendy catch up before I spoke.

‘Thank you, that would be lovely. It’s hot.’

He nodded, his eyes flicking from my face to my chest, where my nipples showed stiff through my top, then to Wendy, who was in a similar condition although she at least had a bra on. I accepted the thermos lid and took a swallow before passing it to Wendy as he went on.

‘I don’t get it myself, all this running about. I get enough of that working.’

It was just the feed I needed, and I couldn’t resist.

‘We’re on a sort of exercise, but I’d much rather hitch a ride on your quad bike.’

He seemed to think about it.

‘Where to?’

‘Fur Tor, it’s …’

‘Oh I know Fur Tor, right up on the tops, that is. I can take one of you, two if the other doesn’t mind clinging on the back.’

I gave the quad bike a dubious look. It was a big square thing, obviously designed for agriculture rather than sport, with plenty of room for a pillion passenger and even a low rail to cling on to, but anybody standing on the ledge at the back while it went over rough ground was almost certainly going to end up getting thrown off.

‘Perhaps one of us could sit on your lap?’

Wendy shot me a meaningful glance, which he didn’t see. I hadn’t expected him to proposition us on the spot, as few men are that rude, but there was no mistaking his tone as he answered.

‘I can’t say I mind a pretty girl on my knee, if it’s alright with you? I’m John, John Runyon.’

‘Lucy, how d’you do? This is my friend Wendy.’

I was far from sure of myself, but excited, and fairly certain that if I showed the slightest interest I was going to end up riding more than just the quad bike. He was keen to go too, and no surprise, with Wendy’s thighs spread across his backside and my bottom perched on his leg, so close in that I could feel the bugle of his cock and balls beneath his trousers. I couldn’t even move, or he’d have been unable to drive properly, and from the moment we set off the vibration of the engine and the motion of the bike on the rough ground had my bottom bouncing on his leg and his cock rubbing against my crotch.

He didn’t say anything, at first, beyond laughing or cursing as he negotiated obstacles, but I could feel him getting hard against my thigh. Obviously he knew, and he must have guessed that I knew, because as we reached a narrow part of the valley he came to a halt, his voice full of embarrassment as he spoke.

‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to get off? I’m sorry, only some things a man can’t help.’

In my fantasies the men were always assertive, even downright rude, ordering me to get down on their cocks or down from the cab, but it was far easier to respond to his shy, almost apologetic manner.

‘I don’t mind at all, really. In fact, it only seems fair, as you’re taking us all the way to Fur Tor, that we ought to, er … pay …’

My face was hot with blushes and I couldn’t bring myself to finish, but Wendy was no better. I was hoping he’d realise and take control of the situation, but unfortunately he wasn’t very quick on the uptake.

‘Oh no, I couldn’t take any money.’

I had to do it, and I was red-faced and babbling as I replied.

‘I mean pay by … by being nice to you, and anyway, if you’re getting … getting a bit of a problem, it only seems sensible for us to help you with it, and fair.’

His eyes had gone round.

‘You’re offering me a hand job?’

I nodded, reaching out to squeeze him through his trousers, only for Wendy to interrupt.

‘Er … shouldn’t we get up to Fur Tor first, Lucy? Otherwise the others will beat us.’

‘Are you in a race?’ John asked as his hand closed on top of mine. ‘I’ll get you there, but you don’t do this to me and leave me. I’ve got to come.’

He was certainly hard enough, and I glanced at my watch, then at Wendy.

‘I’ll get him off. You pose for him or something.’

‘No! I’ll get him off. You can pose!’

‘OK, but …’

I’d been massaging John’s cock through his trousers as we spoke and his voice was little more than a moan as he cut in.

‘Just pull your tops up, that’ll be fine, and you can both do it, but let’s get out of sight first.’

We stopped just a few feet away from a stand of rocks and quickly moved in among them, not completely sheltered but probably safe for a few minutes. I could see Wendy’s point about hurrying and didn’t waste any time, quickly tugging my top up to bare my breasts as John pulled his cock and balls free of his fly. Wendy hesitated only a moment before she too pulled her upper clothes high, exposing two rounded, pale boobs, both splashed with freckles. I already had John in hand, tugging on his stiff shaft, and she took hold of his balls. His hand went around our waists, then lower, pushing into the back of my shorts, and Wendy’s, to squeeze and stroke our bottoms as we masturbated him.

I wanted my shorts down, and I wanted to suck, so I quickly got to my knees, stripping myself behind as Wendy took hold of his erection and opening my mouth to let her guide it in. John gave a deep moan for the feel of his cock in my mouth and Wendy giggled to see me so urgent and so dirty, her eyes full of laughter and mischief as she masturbated him in time to the motions of my sucking. I was wishing we had more time, so that I could suck him properly, and perhaps more, maybe even find an excuse to play with Wendy, but I knew we had to hurry. My hand went to his balls, I slid one finger between his muscular bum cheeks and I found his anus, teasing the tiny hole even as I wondered at my own filthy behaviour.

Wendy gave a little gasp of shock as she saw what I was doing, but began to tug faster on his shaft as he reacted with a groan of ecstasy. I pushed my finger in up his bottom, he grunted and suddenly my mouth was full of salty, slimy spunk, more than I could possibly swallow. Most of it came out from around my lips and over Wendy’s hand and his balls, the rest exploding from my nose as I began to gag, losing my balance at the same instant, to sprawl, thighs spread, on the turf. Wendy reacted first.

‘You dirty bitch, Lucy! It’s all over my hand.’

‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Wash it off in the water.’

She made a dash for the stream, bare boobs jiggling as she ran, while John relaxed back against the rock with a long sigh. I had to join Wendy, who still hadn’t covered herself up, and as I knelt down beside her I saw that she was shaking, for all her disgust when I’d spat spunk over her hand. I needed more and I was sure she did too.

‘Later? Perhaps in the woods?’

She responded with an urgent nod and we hurried back to the quad bike. We’d taken just a few minutes to get John off, but it had left me badly in need and Wendy the same. As we rode on I was wondering how long he’d take before he’d want us again, and whether he’d be able to cope with us both. I also wondered if he’d like to watch us together, because there’s no better excuse for lesbian sex than pretending you’re only doing it to please a man. What little I’d seen of Wendy’s pale, delicate body appealed, but I could only hope that she returned my feelings. If she did, then a whole world of possibilities would be opened up, involving Stacey and Juliette too.

Now that we’d got him despunked, John gave his full attention to driving the quad bike, and he’d obviously had plenty of experience and knew every inch of the moor. He was able to find tracks where I hadn’t been able to see anything but tufts of coarse grass, and take advantage of areas of short, hard turf that I’d have ignored because they didn’t run in quite the right direction. When we came out onto the shoulder of the biggest of the hills we’d been able to see from the forest I found myself looking down over a huge area of open ground, with the competition visible as tiny pale dots against the vastness, too small for me to see who was who.