by Penny Birch
I needed to come, while she did it, while I was spanked, beaten, hard, for being a dirty little girl, for peeing myself as I lay nude on the mat. My free hand went back, pushing under my belly, and I was doing it, masturbating as I was beaten, rubbing at my open, sopping pussy as my bottom-cheeks bounced nude to my nurse’s slaps.
‘Dirty girl!’ Poppy repeated. ‘So it’s like that, is it, you dirty, filthy little slut.’
Her grip tightened, twisting my arm hard up my back. I cried out and again as she finally put the full force of her arm into my beating, smacking her hand down on to my bottom with all her force. I didn’t care, I was going to come. My fingers were rubbing frantically at my clitoris; my pussy was pulsing, my anus tightening to pull in the huge load inside as she beat me, harder and harder.
I was thrashing on her lap, my legs kicking, my bottom wiggling frantically and dancing to the slaps, my breasts shaking beneath me, my hair flying around my head. As I started to come I screamed and called out Poppy’s name, telling her to spank me harder, to really punish me. She obliged, laying into my poor, bouncing bottom with all her strength, stern and silent as she gave me what I deserved, a good, firm whacking for punishment, because it needed to be done, regardless of what it did to me.
She only stopped when I went limp and even then she held on to me, keeping me in place across her lap. I lay there, my breath coming in ragged pants. My bottom was absolutely burning and I knew that for all my ecstasy I’d been properly spanked, and that I’d probably be carrying bruises in the morning.
Normally, I’d have been in tears, and filled with self-pity and misery at the way I’d been treated. Instead, I was elated, contrite, yet thoroughly happy. Finally I understood what a spanking could do for me, so long as I was handled properly, by somebody who really knew how to punish a girl for sex, by my Poppy.
She had begun to stroke my bottom gently, soothing me and, I was sure, for her own pleasure. I stuck it up obligingly, letting her explore and enjoying the sensation of being comforted after my punishment. After a while she leaned forwards to pick up the cream, still holding me firmly in place as she retrieved it and dabbed out a couple of large blobs on to the crests of my bottom. As she began to cream my smacked cheeks I cocked myself wide and high, lifting myself for her, so that she could get at every crevice of my hot behind and my aching pussy. In response she took a little of the cream and dabbed it on to my bottom-hole, teasing my ring for a moment before returning to creaming my cheeks with slow, circular motions.
With my orgasm over, my need for the toilet had returned stronger than ever. I felt fit to burst, my rectum really straining, but I couldn’t bear to break the moment, and for all our intimacy, I didn’t feel I should just do it up between my cheeks as I lay over her lap, to say nothing of the mess. So I held tight, letting her cream me, sure that she must be aware of the way my bottom-hole was pouting out, and that she would know what to do.
Only when my whole bottom was a glossy red ball of creamy, smacked flesh did she stop. I thought she was going to let me down, maybe have me lick her at last, only for her fingers to go down between my cheeks again, stroking the bar of flesh between my two holes, then my anus, tickling, until my ring began to twitch.
I could feel myself opening to her, my bottom-hole spreading like a flower, eager to be penetrated. Her tickling grew firmer, concentrating on the hole, easing me slowly open, until I was sure it was just going to happen, whether I liked it or not. I tightened my ring, desperate to control myself, but she gave a little tut of disapproval.
‘Let me see,’ she said.
My mouth came open in a low moan, but I relaxed and her finger slid up into my bottom.
‘I see,’ she said, as she pulled out her finger. ‘You should have told me you were ready before I changed you. I suppose I ought to get you in a nappy, but it seems a shame to waste one. Look, what would you like to do, would you like to just let it all out?’
I couldn’t even answer, the constriction in my throat too tight to allow me to speak. All I managed was a choking sound. Poppy said nothing, but leaned forwards again, to reach a towel from my rack.
‘Up,’ she said as she sat back.
I lifted myself off her leg. I was shaking uncontrollably as she slid the towel under my tummy and tugged it into place. My bottom-hole was straining, and I knew it was going to happen anyway soon and that I wanted to, but I was still fighting with an urge not to do anything so utterly indecent, something I’d thought I’d got over a long time before.
‘There we are,’ she said as I settled back on to her lap. ‘You can do it now, as soon as you’re ready.’
My bottom was the highest part of my body, lifted across her lap, with my legs well spread to show off my straining hole. I could feel my ring pouting up, creamy and loose, completely ready, with only my inhibitions stopping me. Not that it mattered. I was too loose to stop it, my bottom-hole opening, and then I was showing her and it was too late anyway.
I moaned aloud, burying my face in my hands as I felt my anus open and the thick, hard mass within push out. Poppy could see, my nurse, watching the most intimate thing I could possibly do as I lay naked across her lap, my anus gaping to let out my mess between my bottom-cheeks, right in front of her.
‘There, there, just do it, let it come,’ she said, and began to stroke my hair.
I just burst into tears, overcome by emotion, and with that the last of my resistance went. I let go completely, sobbing as my bottom-hole everted and let it all out. I felt something firm and hot fall against my pussy, and more pushing out between my bottom-cheeks. The tears were running down my cheeks as it came, more and more, all the while with Poppy stroking my hair to soothe me. Soon it had begun to pile up over my anus, heavy and fat, filling the shallow valley of my bottom and lying against my open pussy.
Poppy never said a word, but just watched as I soiled myself, allowing me to do it with absolute understanding. With a huge pile already sitting on my bottom, my anus closed, only to open again as I pushed, deliberately now, squeezing out more. The load on my bottom shifted to the new pressure, and began to edge slowly down over my pussy. Some broke and rolled down between my thighs. Poppy immediately lifted the towel, squashing the mess to my shaved pubic mound as more fell down on to my pussy.
‘We’d better do you up, I think,’ she said.
I nodded gratefully as she turned the towel up over my bottom, pressing my dirt to my skin and up between my buttocks. Taking the corners, she tied the towel off at my hips, making an impromptu nappy for me. It was tight, and I could feel my load bulging against my flesh, hot and squashy around my bottom and up over my pussy. There was a little more to come, and I squeezed it out, feeling the towel bulge out behind me as it came, to leave me empty, with everything in my nappy.
‘There, now down you go,’ Poppy said, and patted me on my bulge.
Her voice was thick and deep, and I knew exactly what she meant. I moved down from her lap, sniffing back my tears to look up into her eyes as she opened her legs in front of me. She was smiling, nervous and excited, one corner of her mouth twitching as she returned my gaze.
I kneeled down, my bottom pushed out, the weight of what was in my nappy hanging beneath me, keeping me acutely conscious of it. Poppy’s knees had gone wide, her dress rucking up, to show off the tops of her stockings and the bare flesh of her thighs above them, then the white of her panty crotch. She lifted her bottom, to tug her dress up and pull the top of her panties out from under her girdle. They came down, pushed over her thighs to her ankles to present me with her bare pussy, open and wet beneath a thick tangle of curls.
‘Lick me, Gabrielle,’ she ordered. ‘Lick your nurse while you think about what’s in your nappy.’
She had edged forwards as she spoke, spreading her knees wider still. I moved close, catching the scent of her sex, and buried my face in her pussy, licking eagerly at her clitoris. Her hand found my head, stroking me and pulling me in as she gave a sigh of pure satisfaction.
; I’d come twice, but I was licking her, licking her with my load hanging heavy in my nappy, a load she’d just watched come out. I wiggled my bottom, feeling the mess move beneath me, and I knew I had to do it. As I began to lick more urgently at Poppy’s sex, my hand was sneaking down the front of my nappy to find my pussy, dirty and ready, my vagina clogged with mess, my crease wet with my juices.
‘You’re doing it, aren’t you?’ Poppy gasped.
I nodded into my mouthful of pussy, admitting my filthy secret.
‘You little slut,’ she sighed. ‘You dirty, filthy little slut. Do it then, and while you frig in your own dirt, you can taste mine.’
Her legs came up as she spoke, opening her bottom and pushing it into my face. Without an instant’s hesitation I pushed my tongue into her anus, licking eagerly at the little hole, to taste the earthy, acrid tang, mixed with the taste of sex where her juice had run down.
‘That’s right, taste me,’ she moaned. ‘Lick me clean while I frig.’
Her fingers came down to rub at her sex. I kept licking her bottom, my tongue pushing deep to get her taste, her anus opening, wet and hot and slimy. I wanted to come as she did and began to rub myself harder, smearing slimy mess over my pussy as I frigged and wriggling my bottom to make my load swing in my nappy and squash up between my cheeks.
It was going to happen at any moment. Poppy was rubbing hard, her bottom-hole agape, my mouth open over her slippery ring, my tongue deep in her. She was gasping, her sex contracting in my face, her anus tightening on my tongue, my head spinning with her taste and scent.
‘I’m coming,’ she moaned. ‘I’m coming, Gabrielle. Get your tongue in, deep in. Do it, you dirty slut, taste me, lick me…yes, I’m coming…like that, yes, up my bumhole…like that, in, right up my bum…I’m so open, I should do it…I should, right in your dirty mouth!’
She screamed, coming, even as my own orgasm hit me. I felt her bottom-hole close tight on my tongue, pushing it out, and I was gasping, my mouth wide, dizzy with pleasure as I clawed at my own sex, screaming in unison with Poppy as we came together in blinding, perfect ecstasy.
* * *
In the morning I felt not only completely happy and in love with Poppy, but more than confident enough to face the crisis I had expected to come all week. I assumed that at some point Anna Vale was going to discover where Poppy was and, to judge by what I had seen of her character, she was unlikely to take it lying down.
The crisis never came. What did come was a call from Natasha asking what was going on, and to explain why Penny Birch had sent her a message threatening her with dire retribution in return for having stood down Anna Vale’s demands for my address. We explained, at once delighting Natasha and making her jealous, so that we ended up promising that she could come and play the next day.
Despite my confidence, the knowledge that I would not have to face up to Anna Vale was a great relief. It also put Poppy into a mood of manic gaiety, which I suspect was partly to hide her guilt. Fortunately I had no appointments, as I certainly wouldn’t have been able to concentrate. Instead I spent most of the day as a grown-up baby girl, being nursed and changed and suckled, until I was in a haze of sleepy pleasure. I was spanked again too, as skilfully as before, and finally given an enema, which turned the conversation to Natasha once we had come down from our orgasms.
After everything she had done to me, including subjecting me to Monty Hartle, it seemed only fair that if she was going to come and play then she should be in the submissive role. Poppy agreed, and after a few minutes of discussing elaborate and sadistic tortures she came up with something that would not only suit Natasha perfectly, but give Monty something to think about into the bargain.
Saturday morning was spent shopping, after which we called Natasha. We were perfectly honest about it, sending her a text demanding her presence and telling her to expect trouble. Half-an-hour later she rang my buzzer. We let her up and she came in, smiling, to bounce down on the couch.
‘So I’ve finally got to Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Gabrielle, have I?’ She laughed. ‘Great! Come on then, I’m all yours!’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ I told her. ‘Very well, as you are so keen, we shall begin. Get the equipment, Poppy. Natasha, strip to your panties.’
Poppy ran into the kitchen, laughing. Natasha obeyed immediately and eagerly, quickly undressing down to a pair of tight white cotton panties, the sort Percy made her wear. Ready, she stood, stretching to show off her breasts, then turning to give us a wiggle of her bottom.
‘In the bedroom,’ I told her.
‘What are you going to do, make me do it in my panties?’ she asked happily, trotting into the bedroom without the slightest hesitation.
‘That might come into it,’ I admitted. ‘For now, lie down on the sheet.’
I had one of my plastic play sheets ready on the floor and she lay down on it, cocking her knees high to show off the crotch of her panties and folding her hands behind her head. Poppy came in holding a basket, which she put down beside Gabrielle and skipped out again.
‘What are those? Knickers?’ Natasha queried, peering at the pile of assorted female undergarments in the basket.
‘Monty Hartle’s panty collection,’ I told her. ‘Now, kneel up.’
She nodded, turning to climb into a kneeling position, her bottom raised, her tight seat taut across her buttocks. I gave her a gentle pat and she looked back, her eyes showing a touch of apprehension and a great deal of pleasure. Poppy came back, this time holding a bucket with a large stick in it.
‘What are you going to do to me?’ Natasha asked.
‘Quiet,’ I said, smacking her again. ‘No questions and no whining – just obey orders.’
‘Yes, miss,’ she answered.
We left her kneeling and watching us as Poppy went to fetch the last of our equipment, a large bag, which she flopped down beside the bucket.
‘Plaster of Paris?’ Natasha said, reading the legend on the side of the bag. ‘Oh, you’re not!’
‘Be quiet!’ I told her. ‘You are getting yourself into trouble.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Do you want to be tied? And given a good spanking first? We will.’
‘I’ll be good, I promise…just…you’re not going to do my pussy, are you, not without shaving me first?’
‘Not your pussy, no, or your breasts, we promise.’
‘OK.’
She’d begun to shake a little, and I realised we were getting to her. I couldn’t help but grin as Poppy and I set to work.
Natasha watched as we made the mixture, her eyes wide as I stirred the powder in to make a thick, even paste. The moment it was ready we started to use it, dipping a pair of panties each until the plaster was well soaked in, and spreading them out on Natasha’s back. With the next two pairs we took her arms, pulling them up to her sides and wrapping each in the soggy panties. More went on her back and around her arms, wound into place even as the plaster began to set. We sped up, frantically slapping plaster-soaked panties on to her body, around her waist and over her arms, to trap them at her sides. Soon her whole waist was circled, with her arms pinned tight, rendering her helpless. We kept going, cocooning her middle in plaster, until we were sure she had no possibility of escape, and only then sitting back. Her whole middle was encased in plaster from just beneath her breasts where they hung, squashed out on the plastic sheet, to immediately above the waistband of her panties. At either hip her hands stuck out of the plaster, her fingers wriggling helplessly as she tried to pull free.
‘Can you get up?’ I asked.
She moved, kneeling up and trying to rise, only to topple sideways, off balance. Poppy laughed at the sight and reached out to take hold of Natasha’s bottom, fondling casually.
‘You can crawl around,’ I told her. ‘We will help if we need you to stand. How does it feel?’
‘Tight,’ she said, ‘warm, too.’
‘That is because it is an exothermic reaction,’ I told her. ‘No
w, let me see. What did you do to me? You stuck needles in my bottom, did you not? And you gave me an enema with chocolate cake mixture.’
She moaned, hanging her head.
‘So it seems only fair you should get the same treatment, does it not?’
‘Not the needles, no, please! I hate injections!’
‘You were quite happy giving them to me.’
‘Yes, but I…’
‘Be quiet. So, first…’
‘Hang on, I need to pee. Could you help me please?’
‘No. Do it in your panties.’
‘Gabrielle! Must I?’
‘Yes, you must,’ Poppy answered her, ‘and we want to see. Roll over and stick your bum up.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then we plaster your legs together and wait until it happens naturally.’
Natasha sighed, pushing out one knee to lift herself back into a kneeling position, before falling slowly forwards to leave her bottom high in the air, her knees wide. The position stretched the seat of her panties taut across her bottom and pulled the crotch against her sex to show off the outline of her lips, plump and full beneath the cotton, a delightful view. She was breathing hard, and I could see her tummy moving just below the edge of the plaster.
‘Come on, Tasha, potty-pants time!’ Poppy urged.
Natasha sighed again, and an instant later it started to come, a spot of wet growing on the crotch of her panties at the very centre of her sex, spreading before it burst from the material in a little fountain of yellow fluid which pattered down on to the mat.
‘Adorable!’ Poppy laughed. ‘Just look at her!’
The pee had started to come faster, squirting out through Natasha’s panties to form a puddle between her knees and soaking into her crotch so that her pussy showed through the wet material, pink and ready. It was soaking down over her pubic mound, too, her bush showing as a dark patch under the wet cotton, and up over her bottom, slowly, to cling to her cheeks.
Giggling, Poppy moved closer to lay a gentle pat on Natasha’s wet bottom, then another, harder. Pee spattered out over the mat as Poppy began to spank to a firm, slow rhythm, setting Natasha gasping and squealing as she was punished. The pee was still coming, too, but as Natasha moved the trickle stopped spraying out backwards and began to run down her leg instead, in pulses, as each spank made a little more squirt out.