by Penny Birch
‘There’s only a little bit in!’ Natasha laughed. ‘Nothing like a cock, certainly not Monty’s cock.’
‘Yes, but I haven’t…’
‘You haven’t been buggered by Monty? Seriously?’
‘I haven’t. Not by anyone.’
‘You’re virgin, up your bum, really virgin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, my, have you got a surprise coming.’
‘No, I have not.’
‘As you like, but it makes it a lot easier when this sort of thing happens to you if you’ve had a cock or two up the bum. Come on, Poppy, let’s do her. Push it in a bit more and never mind her squeals, she’s just being pathetic.’
‘Please,’ I begged, ‘just fill me like this, if you have to…’
‘Shh, nursie knows best,’ Poppy said. ‘Now stop wriggling like that. Just stay still.’
I hadn’t realised I had been wriggling, but tried to do as I was told and push out my bottom-hole as the icer was forced deeper up, stretching me until I was gasping.
‘What a baby!’ Natasha said. ‘OK, that’s enough. Hold it in, I’ll squeeze.’
Poppy changed her grip, holding the nozzle tightly in place in my bottom-hole. The bag of mix had been hanging down between my thighs, and I felt Natasha pick it up. She made a disgusted noise at the feel of the thing and I heard a squashy, wet sound as she started to squeeze. I felt it immediately as the thick paste was forced into my rectum, not like an enema, but with the sense of weight and strain coming immediately, if slowly.
‘It’s going up,’ Natasha said. ‘Can you feel it, Gabby?’
‘Yes,’ I managed.
I could, my rectum already bulging as it struggled to accommodate what was being forced in. My bottom-hole was pouted out and there was an awful sense of urgency building in me, my body telling me that something entirely different was happening and that I should be on the loo, not kneeling on my bed in bondage. I’d started to shake quite hard too, enough to show and make the girls giggle.
It began to hurt and I gasped, but Natasha just squeezed harder, delighting in what she was doing to me and in my reaction. I pulled my cheeks in, trying to take the load deeper, and the pain died, only to rise again as she squeezed once more.
‘Not so fast!’ I begged. ‘Let me try and take it.’
‘Stop whining, I said!’ she snapped back. ‘Just pretend you’ve been caught short in the street and you’re going to fill your knickers unless you hold tight.’
Poppy laughed and I tensed again to feel my lower belly swell as the mixture went deeper up me. An awful bloated feeling started, in my head as well as my gut, making me feel fat and vulnerable, horribly insecure. I began to pant and wriggle my toes, overwhelmed by my feelings as yet more mixture was forced into my straining rectum. They’d made so much, and I was sure most of it was already inside me, and that I could not possibly take any more. I could feel it around my bottom-hole too, squeezing out around the nozzle, despite already being so badly distended.
‘You’re not trying,’ Natasha complained. ‘Come on, Gabby, you can do better.’
‘I can’t,’ I panted. ‘Please…’
She squeezed. I gasped as my rectum strained, mixture squashing out around the nozzle to soil my bottom-crease and roll down, thick and sticky, over my pussy.
‘Come on,’ Natasha urged. ‘Take it, Gabby.’
I tried, tightening my bottom and actually feeling my load shift in my guts, up towards my tummy to tighten my skin and put a sick feeling into my throat.
‘No, more, I beg. Red,’ I gasped.
‘Oh, all right,’ she answered me, ‘but it’s nearly all up anyway. One more squeeze.’
She did it even as she spoke, making me gasp as the last of it was forced up my bottom. Some went in; more squashed out around the nozzle, most squeezing down between my sex-lips to hang from my pussy for a moment before falling to the bed with a plop.
‘I think she is actually full,’ Poppy remarked.
‘Nonsense,’ Natasha answered, ‘she could fit loads more. It’s just a question of getting it up. Hmm, maybe we should have put some milk in the mixture?’
‘Maybe,’ Poppy admitted and tugged the icer out of my bottom-hole.
She hadn’t warned me, and I nearly did it on the bed, but managed to tighten up just in time, so that only a little came out. I could do nothing without their permission and help, and I was too cautious of Natasha’s cruelty to dare to ask. So I stayed in position, my breathing slow and heavy, trying to keep myself under control and fight down the awful, bloated feeling inside me, and the desperate need to go to the loo. I could feel my swollen belly hanging beneath me, heavy and fat. There was a strange, crawling feeling in my tummy, and my bottom-cheeks had started to twitch again.
‘Very cute,’ Natasha said, ‘and now, for the climax.’
‘Yes, do it,’ I managed.
‘Not your climax, slut,’ she answered me, ‘although I suppose we might let you come eventually. I mean the climax of your torture. Now, let me see…’
She stepped away, and I looked back, to see her drop the icing bag into the mixing bowl. Going to my drawers, she pulled the top one open, rummaging inside. I could see no more than a blur, but I knew what she was doing, and sure enough, when she came close again she was holding a pair of my panties in her hand, dangled between forefinger and thumb, a white silk pair trimmed with lace.
‘You’re going to do it in your knickers,’ she told me, ‘in front of us.’
‘No, please,’ I managed. ‘Not those, anyway. They’re silk. Use a nappy. Please, Natasha?’
‘No. I want to see them bulge as it all comes out. I want you to ruin your fancy knickers, too; it’ll add to your feelings.’
‘She’s being very lippy, isn’t she?’ Poppy put in. ‘Not at all the right attitude for a girl with her hands and feet tied and two pounds of cake-mix up her bum. If I was her, I’d be polite and respectful.’
‘So would I,’ Natasha admitted. ‘We’ll just have to punish her, I suppose, to teach her a lesson. For her own good, of course.’
‘Not a spanking, please!’ I babbled. ‘Not like this.’
She just laughed and dropped the panties on my back. Her hands went to the knot securing my ankles, tugging at the cord until it came loose. I opened them immediately and nearly let go of the load in my bottom, clamping shut just in time once more. Natasha pulled the panties on around my ankles.
I let her tug the panties up my legs as I slid to the floor. Poppy took my shoulders, helping me to rise as Natasha tugged the panties higher still and around my bottom. I stood, slightly dizzy, my bottom-hole held tight.
‘I suppose we’re going to have to untie her hands if we want any work out of her,’ Natasha said. ‘Shame.’
‘What work?’ I asked as she began to fiddle with the ribbon securing my wrists.
‘Cleaning up, for starters,’ she answered, ‘and I could do with a glass of wine. It’s hard work torturing you, you know.’
‘Could I come first, perhaps?’
‘No. We want to watch your panties fill. Then you can come.’
‘But…’
‘Gabrielle.’
‘OK. I’m sorry.’
‘Good. Fetch us our wine, then, and you then can clean up this mess.’
She gestured idly to the floor and reached out for Poppy’s hand. Together they walked from the room to settle themselves on my couch. I quickly retrieved my glasses and followed, hobbling, with the strain in my bottom close to unbearable. I could already feel the sticky mixture against my sex where Natasha had pulled my panties up tight, and between my bum-cheeks, but I knew that it was only a small part of what I was holding in, and could imagine how it was going to feel in my panties.
In the kitchen I found a fresh bottle of wine and opened it, pouring their glasses and bringing them out. It nearly happened as I bent to serve them, and I had to jump up quickly. The result was a stab of pain in my belly, making them laugh
as I clutched at myself.
‘Just do it, if you want to,’ Poppy advised.
‘Yes, do it,’ Natasha added. ‘I want to watch you work with your load in your panties. Come on.’
‘Don’t rush her,’ Poppy said, ‘let her wait if she wants to, until she really can’t hold it any more.’
‘I can’t, not much longer,’ I said. ‘My tummy! Please can I get in a nappy?’
‘No. Your knickers are soiled anyway,’ Natasha answered me. ‘Now, come on, chop chop, there’s tidying to be done and washing up.’
‘Yes,’ I managed and hobbled quickly into the bedroom.
My legs were shaking as I picked the things up and scraped the chocolate mix off the bedcover. Twice I nearly did it before I managed to get everything in the sink and the cover in the wash. Bending was worse, my body responding to the position, desperate to let it all out. I held it, though, with my pain and confusion growing, until I was panting and wriggling my toes.
They came to watch as I began to wash up. I knew I couldn’t hold. The urge to just let it all out into my panties was becoming overwhelming, along with the urge to masturbate once I’d done it, with them watching as I utterly disgraced myself. They were sipping wine, their arms around each other, eyes twinkling with arousal and pleasure, faces full of mischief.
It was that which broke me, their sheer delight in the state they’d put me in. I was near nude, my only garment my panties, and those just so I could ruin them, my bottom covered in sticking plasters and smarting, my tummy swollen and aching, my pussy urgent…
I just let go, the way they wanted me to. My eyes shut; my mouth went wide and I dropped the things I’d been holding into the sink. I stuck my bottom out, straining the panties against my flesh, making myself round, showing off deliberately. Poppy giggled as I let out a tiny, broken sob and let my bottom-hole open. I gasped as it came out, my anus gaping to the point of pain as I let it all go out into my panties, pushing the seat out and squashing up between my bottom-cheeks as the material began to bulge. As my panties filled, so the air filled with the smell of chocolate.
Even as I let go of my bottom, my bladder went, pee spurting out through the front of my panties to spatter on the floor and dribble down my legs. They were laughing, both of them, as they watched me fill my panties and wet myself, the bulge growing, pushing back and down to sag below my bottom as the weight grew, heavier and heavier, also my puddle spreading to a wide yellow pool between my feet. I hung my head, letting it come, my anus opening and closing to a slow, lewd rhythm, each pulse admitting more mess into my panties. I was shaking with reaction too, relief and sheer arousal, as the awful heavy feeling grew, until my bulge had began to drag my panties down at the back, exposing the top of my bottom-crease. Unable to stop myself, I reached down under my belly to find my wet, ready sex.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Natasha warned. ‘That can wait.’
‘Please,’ I begged. ‘Now, while it’s in my panties.’
‘Wait, I said,’ she ordered. ‘Get your dirty little fingers out of your knickers, now!’
I obeyed, sobbing as I withdrew my hand.
‘Now finish,’ she ordered.
I nodded my head, my lip trembling as I pushed again and felt my bottom-hole open to squeeze yet more mess out into my panties. One calf had started to shake, and it was incredibly hard to fight down the urge to masturbate as I felt my mess squeeze out and the weight in my panties increase that little bit more. My anus closed but I pushed again, forcing out yet more, desperate to have the full weight under me, everything I could do. The strain had gone and my relief was simply overwhelming as I sank down, my breasts hanging in the dirty washing-up water, to strain once more, pushing out the last of the contents of my rectum into my panties. I stood, water dripping from my erect nipples, to look at Natasha and Poppy. They were hugged together, giggling, more delighted than ever.
‘Enough?’ I asked. ‘Can I do it, please?’
‘Not yet,’ Natasha answered.
‘It is all out. I promise. Look.’
I turned a little to make a full show of the huge swelling in my panties. My bulge wobbled as I moved, and the smell of chocolate in the air grew thicker still. My panties were so full I was sure they were going to fall down, which I didn’t want, so I reached back to hitch them up a little to cover my crease, squashing mess up between my cheeks and into my pussy. It made no difference, the weight dragging them straight back down to uncover a good half of my bottom-crease. At any moment they were going to drop and spoil the moment.
‘Please, now?’ I begged.
‘Feel it,’ Poppy ordered.
I reached back to cup the obscenely huge bulge in my panties. The wet was coming through on to my hand, which came away sticky. Poppy giggled. I touched again, feeling the weight in my panties and squashing it up a little over my pussy. Glancing back at them, I let my other hand snake down over my belly.
‘None of that!’ Natasha snapped.
‘Please!’ I begged.
‘Slut,’ Poppy said. ‘Punish her, Tasha. Slap her thighs.’
‘No, please, just let me come!’ I wailed.
‘We’ll see,’ Natasha answered me. ‘For the moment, what did I say about whining?’
‘You said not to, but…’
‘But nothing. You’ve whined constantly. You’ve never stopped whining.’
She had stepped forwards as she spoke, coming up beside me. I stayed still, trembling hard, looking at her as she let her eyes travel down my naked body to my bottom. She reached out, taking the waistband of my panties between forefinger and thumb fastidiously and pulling the back open. I felt the mess peel away from my skin and cool air on my damp buttocks.
‘This,’ Natasha said, ‘is to teach you to do as you are told, and not to whine!’
She pulled out my panties further still, at the same time reaching for a spoon from the drying racks.
‘No, please!’ I managed, panic welling up inside me as I realised what she was going to do.
She took no notice whatsoever, pushing the spoon down the back of my panties to scoop out some mess, which she held up to my mouth.
‘Open wide,’ she said.
I closed my eyes, unable to watch, my lips shaking as my mouth came open. I felt the spoon go in, the mess touch my lip, then fill my mouth as I shut it, grimacing as she pulled it free. She laughed, Poppy too, watching me as I swallowed my mouthful.
‘Oh, you are a dirty little bitch, aren’t you?’ she said happily. ‘OK, that’s enough, I think. You can come.’
‘Thank you,’ I sobbed.
‘Not like that,’ she said as my hand burrowed for the front of my panties. ‘My way.’
I opened my eyes, to find her seated on a stool, patting her lap.
‘Oh, no…’
‘Over my knee, Gabrielle, and you can frig your pussy, while I give you the spanking you so richly deserve.’
‘Like this?’
‘Yes, like that. Over!’
I was whimpering as I went down, but I kept my hand down the front of my panties. My pussy was warm and wet, the hole clogged with chocolate mixture, my lips and clitoris unbearably sensitive. Natasha took me by my waist as I went down, easing me gently but firmly across her lap until she had me in place, with my bulging panty seat stuck up and out right towards Poppy.
‘Here goes!’ she said. ‘Spankies time!’
Her hand came down, hard, full across my seat. Instantly the mess squashed out across my bottom and burst from the sides of my panties, over my thighs and over Natasha too. She gave a squeal of both delight and disgust and laid in all the harder, spanking away at my filthy panty seat, with cake-mix splashing in every direction, out of panty legs and the top too, and over my pussy to where my fingers were busy with my clitoris.
Poppy was laughing crazily and had stepped close to smack at my legs then dip down, taking my head and cradling me to her chest. I was coming, even as I felt the soft, warm pillows of her breasts in my
face. My clitoris was burning under my finger, my vagina contracting, Natasha spanking harder than ever. I felt the warm sludge squeeze out over my sex; I snatched at it, to rub it in over my pubic mound and between my lips, smearing it everywhere but, most of all, full on to my clitoris.
‘Filthy, dirty, little brat!’ Natasha spat, spanking harder still, to send a great gout of mess spurting from the top of my panties and up over my back, even into my hair.
I screamed, my orgasm exploding in my head, a rush of overwhelming ecstasy at everything that had been done to me, everything that I’d been made to do to myself, stripped, tied, tortured, utterly soiled, spanked, and at last, cuddled into Poppy’s wonderful, big, soft chest…
My whole body was bucking as I came, my muscles in frantic contraction, my senses completely overwhelmed. The pain had gone, leaving only warmth and an incredibly intense awareness of my sex, bottom, and face, every signal amplified and wonderfully erotic, from the tight feeling of my laden panties, to the softness of Poppy’s chest, to the glorious sensations of my vulva.
I came close to passing out and ended up limp and panting across Natasha’s lap, utterly exhausted, my hand still down the front of my panties, with chocolate cake-mix trickling slowly down my thighs and falling bit by bit from my disarranged panties to land with sticky plops on the floor.
Finally Natasha got up, pushing me off her lap to slap at the mess coating the front of her jeans. I felt weak at the knees and went down, kneeling, while my body slowly came back under my control. The mess was appalling, my whole lower body filthy, the floor a sea of pee and bits of mess, even some of the cupboard doors spattered with it.
I went to wash, hoping they’d clean up. My panties came off in the shower and I did my best to clean them in the vain hope that they’d be wearable after a good soak and a wash or two. I cleaned thoroughly, douched and gave myself an enema, which stung, making me realise how sore my bottom-hole was. By the time I’d finished, they’d got the kitchen clean. They’d also finished the wine and Natasha was in one of my skirts. I made no comment but went to fetch another bottle.
‘Good, yeah?’ Poppy asked as I came back into the clinic, where they’d settled down.