by C. P. Vanner
‘When I was first smacked I quite enjoyed being the centre of attention, and I got the reputation of being a good sport. Any girl who was really upset could have told a teacher but no one ever did. Over a period of time, I found I was chosen more and more frequently. I was quite proud. Older girls seldom paid any attention at all to their juniors, but being an uncomplaining victim seemed to make me part of the gang.
‘I came to see it as a matter of endurance, seeing how long I could go without calling for mercy. I remember I got up to seventy smacks one afternoon. It was a record at the time. I was probably sore that evening but there wasn’t a prouder girl in the house. Silly, isn’t it?
‘Anyway, one particular afternoon I was the victim again. Imagine it; there I was, lying on my tummy on a towel on the floor, stark naked. Five or six girls were kneeling in a ring around me, taking it in turns to smack my bottom like a drum and counting as they did so. Suddenly the counting, and the smacking, stopped. I turned my head to see why, and there in the doorway was a prefect, a girl of about eighteen, a quiet girl called Jane Morrow.
‘There was no big row, but the other girls, I remember, were confined to the school for two weeks and had extra detention. In the middle of prep that evening, I was called out and asked to go and see Jane Morrow in her study at the top of the house - prefects had their own studies. By and large they ran the school when the teachers weren’t around.
‘I don’t remember much about Jane Morrow. She was quiet and played the violin very well, but she wasn’t the sort of older girl I had a pash on. Those were the girls who had long legs and were good at games. They played the boys in school plays. Jane asked me what had been happening, and in my innocent way I explained the game and even told her about me trying for a record.
‘She said the game would not be happening any more but said that there was no reason why I should still not try for the record - with her. And do you know, it didn’t seem funny or odd to me. She made me take off my knickers and put me over her knee. I do remember thinking it odd that I didn’t lie over her whole lap but that she put me between her legs, with my tummy on one thigh and my legs trapped from above by her other thigh.
‘Then she smacked my bottom. It was thirty smacks that first time, I think. She pretended it was all a game and announced that it would be forty smacks the next time. I didn’t understand then - but I do now - why her cheeks were so red and she looked so hot and bothered. I thought she was tired from her efforts.
‘Our game went on about once a week for the rest of that term and until the end of the following term, before she left school. The last time I went to see her it was eight o’clock one evening. She had told me to be there then, but she pretended she had forgotten. She was just out of the shower and I could see she was naked under her bathrobe.
‘She put me over her lap in the normal way with my legs between hers. My left thigh was right up against her groin, and I could feel her pubic hair. She started to spank me, but it was not like in the past. It was somehow wilder. She counted up to ten and then stopped counting. She was gasping and each time she smacked me she would push herself against me, rubbing against my leg. It went on and on, with her smacking and gasping and rubbing faster and faster. Suddenly, when the frenzy was at its height, she squealed and stopped. I felt used, as if I had done something wrong, but I was excited too. Strange things were happening in the pit of my stomach that had never surfaced before.
‘Then she left and I grew up. Funny how I’d forgotten all that until yesterday when I was over Dr Susskind’s knee.’
Celeste kissed Beth’s nipple again. ‘How sweet you must have been.’
Beth turned onto her side. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ she said, snuggling in to the other girl. With one hand she stroked the bare, slightly stubbly patch where Celeste’s pubic hair had been and idly squeezed together the lips of her sex.
‘Must I?’ Celeste pouted. ‘That feels so good.’
Beth eased her fingers away. ‘Yes, you must,’ she said with mock severity.
Celeste reached for her hand and put it back where it had been. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said. ‘My story is not so sweet. It was not so long ago and I was slightly older than you were. It was my first proper sexual experience. It was humiliating, disgusting and... very, very exciting. I still think about it now, when I am alone, if you know what I mean.’
Beth fingered Celeste’s clitoris. ‘You don’t need to be alone now,’ she purred.
Celeste opened her legs wider. ‘Mmm, don’t stop,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I went to France as an au pair. It was a summer job, to improve my French. We did not know the family beforehand but my father and the other man both worked for the same company, so everyone assumed I would be safe and well looked after.
‘They were quite a wealthy family with a big house outside Chartres. I think the wife, Colette, had money of her own. I liked them all. There was Colette, her husband, Alain, and two children, a boy of five and a girl of three. They treated me well and I had a good time. I like everything about the French.
‘Alain was certainly arrogant but charming with it. He was about forty-five and very good-looking. He was away a lot and I spent most of my time with Colette and the kids. I was a sort of half-child, half-adult depending on whom I was with.
‘My duties were not arduous but I did have to bath the children in the evening and put them to bed. By then Colette would be tired of them and was probably getting ready to go out. They were very sociable.
‘After I had been there for two weeks, Colette went to Paris for a long weekend. Her favourite aunt lived there, probably the one with the money. Alain was around, but he was mad about polo and golf and I was largely in charge on my own. That first day I was due to go out in the evening, with another English girl I had met. We were going to try a local disco, and Alain had promised to be back early.
‘The kids had been awkward and difficult all day. I think they missed their mother; she was not often away overnight. At bath time they were a real pain. They were all sorts of trouble and the final straw came when Maurice, the boy, was getting out of the bath. Quite spitefully he scooped up handfuls of soapy water and threw them all over me. I was all dressed up ready to go out, wearing my one sexy dress and with my hair done. I was soaked, a real mess.
‘Well, I flipped. I pulled Maurice out of the bath and slapped him hard, twice. He howled, and because he was crying because of what I’d done, Saskia, the little one, started crying too.
‘I was screaming at them in broken French, and they were both bawling. Just at the height of it I looked up and Alain was standing in the doorway, with a face like thunder. He had come in, heard the noise and come immediately upstairs.
‘He sent me off to change, quieted the children, gave them supper and put them to bed himself. He wouldn’t let me help. When my friend came to pick me up he answered the door and told her that I would not be going out. He apologised and she went away; I heard it all from upstairs.
‘Then he called me down to the sitting room. His English was better than my French. He told me to pack my bags, and that I would be leaving the next day. I protested, I got angry, I even cried, but he was inflexible. He accused me of hitting Maurice and, stupidly, I denied it. He said he could see the marks on the boy’s body. He wasn’t having his children hit by strangers. I would have to go.
‘I started pleading. I didn’t want to go. I liked it there. I was enjoying myself. I could not go home for a boring summer with my parents. I had nowhere else to go. I had no money. I told him I would never do it again, if he relented. It had been a spur of the moment thing, but he wouldn’t give in.
‘Finally, he seemed to think it over and then announced that if I was staying I would not go unpunished. He would treat me in the same way I had treated Maurice, but with the greater severity appropriate for an adult. I should go away and think about it until bedtime. I should then either pack my bag
s ready to leave early the next morning, or I should report to him in the sitting room wearing my nightclothes.
‘I went to my room to think it over but, to be honest, my mind was already made up; I was not going home. So I spent most of the two hours wondering what Alain would do.
‘At eleven o’clock I went back downstairs. I was wearing a nightdress and dressing gown, but had bare feet. I had put on a little make-up and done my hair in a pretty way. If he had been waiting for me, he did not show it. He didn’t even look surprised. He told me what he was going to do, and then it would be forgotten. There would be no arguments. He was going to spank me, as I had spanked Maurice. I protested at once that I had only smacked him twice, hardly a spanking, but he said that twice to a boy of his age was severe enough and that anyway, I had the choice; I could leave. Maurice had had no such choice.
‘I stood my ground so he told me what to do. Maurice had been naked so I would be naked too. I had hit Maurice on the bottom so it would be my bottom that suffered. I had hit Maurice with my hand, but hands were inappropriate for me. I was shocked to then see him produce a bamboo cane. Lord knows where it came from.
‘He told me to strip, so I did so, taking my robe and nightdress off very slowly. Silly me, I thought he would be overcome by my beauty and let me off. I stood in front of him stark naked, with my hands to my sides, not trying to hide anything. He looked me up and down carefully and made me turn around, but his eyes were cold. There might have been a passion there, in fact there was a passion there, but it was well hidden.
‘He made me bend over the back of the sofa so that my head and arms were on the cushions on the other side. I can’t imagine what I looked like, with just my legs and my bottom on show. He fiddled with the cane between my thighs, tapping from side to side, opening them up a little. I felt very embarrassed, as you can imagine. I had never been naked in front of a man before, and here I was showing Alain my most intimate bits in the most brazen way. But it was undeniably exciting.
‘When I was in the required position I heard him cutting the cane through the air, and then he spoke. “I am going to give you six strokes, Claudine,” he said. “And it is going to hurt.”
‘Claudine? Who was Claudine? Here I was, little Celeste, offering him my all and he was talking to Claudine. I found out later that Claudine was his secretary. Apparently Claudine looked a little like me. Apparently she came from a very good family and was very haughty, but lazy and inefficient. She infuriated Alain but he could not do anything about her because he needed her family contacts for his business.
‘But you can imagine how I felt. It was so humiliating. Here he was, wanting to chastise his secretary, who probably really deserved it, except it was my body he was using.
‘He gave me six strokes as promised. It hurt like hell but I took it as well as I could. I was crying by the end, though. I must have looked awful, tear-stained cheeks, hair all mussed up. Then he was so sweet to me. He took me in his arms and comforted me. He kissed my tears and told me I had been brave, and before I knew it I was kissing him properly - real, deep, intense kisses. At that moment I loved him passionately, probably all the more so because of what he had just done to me.
‘I begged him to make love to me. I wanted him to lay me down on the sofa and take me. And he would have done, but he astutely guessed that I was a virgin. He wouldn’t do it the normal way after that, even though I begged him. He said he would have me all the same, he wanted me, but he would do it his way, so as to preserve my virginity. I remember I was disappointed, but I didn’t care so long as he did something.
‘He went and fetched a pot of lubricant. He made me rub it on my bottom and then over his cock. It was so beautiful - I wanted to suck it. Then he made me bend again over the back of the sofa, in the same position I had been for my caning... and you can guess what happened next. He sank his cock into my bottom. He was as gentle as he could be, but it hurt at first. Then it was wonderful; the feeling of being utterly taken, of being totally debased.
‘When it was over he put me to bed, and the next morning he licked me awake. It was wonderful. He taught me to do the same to him. We did that on and off for the next two months, as long as I stayed there. He never did it in my bottom again and he never fucked me, but oh, I wish he had.’
Beth lifted herself onto one elbow. ‘I wonder if he ever caned Claudine in the end,’ she mused.
Celeste stretched. ‘I’d be jealous if he did. She would probably adore it, because he was a wonderful lover. Just thinking about him makes me feel sexy.’
Beth threw back the bedclothes and moved down the bed until she was lying between Celeste’s legs. ‘What’s it like, being fucked in the bottom?’ she asked bluntly.
Celeste was surprised. ‘Have you never done it? It hurts at first, but it’s very exciting.’
‘Mmm,’ Beth purred. ‘Tell me about it all again, but this time tell me exactly what Alain did, and how he did it. You can imagine that I’m him.’
‘Well...’ Celeste sighed, ‘start by putting one finger in my bottom...’
Chapter 7
‘Do you want this job or not?’ Beth asked, with a note of asperity in her voice.
‘Not much,’ Celeste mumbled, holding a coffee cup to her lips.
Three days had passed since Beth first raised the matter of a job for Celeste at Rybix, and not once in the discussions since had the younger girl shown much interest.
Now they were in a café around the corner from the Rybix building, their appointment with Kearns was just seventeen minutes away, and Beth was losing patience.
‘Okay then,’ Beth said, ‘pay me the rent you owe me. Pay me for all the food you have eaten, the white wine you have drunk. Fend for yourself and see if you like it. If you won’t make the effort, won’t even try, I’m finished with you.’
Celeste took Beth’s hand. ‘Don’t be angry with me,’ she sulked. ‘I’m scared - scared stiff. What’s he like?’
‘Father Christmas in a suit of armour. Tough as nails and sharp as a whip. But don’t worry, he’ll like you; you’re just his type.’
‘A what type is that?’ Celeste asked.
‘Cheeky but bright. You won’t have to act, just be yourself.’ She squeezed Celeste’s fingers. ‘Just give it a go. You have nothing to lose.’
‘Except perhaps my modesty,’ Celeste said dryly. Even though it was mid-summer, she was shivering very slightly.
‘He may take to you immediately, just by looking at you.’
Celeste looked doubtful so Beth continued to reassure her. ‘Do it for me, then. Do it for the rent. Do it to help me in my job. Do it for our relationship. And do it for your own bloody good, too.’
Celeste stood, suddenly looking determined, scraping her chair on the tiled floor. ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ she said firmly. ‘How do I look?’
An hour before Beth had helped Celeste to dress, choosing for her a short navy-blue skirt and a powder blue V-necked jumper, with a scarf tied loosely at the neck. ‘Simple, elegant, and utterly desirable,’ she said.
Kearns was in an expansive mood. He leant back in his chair with his thumbs hooked into his waistcoat pockets and a cigar smouldering in an ashtray on the desk in front of him.
‘I know you are a friend of Beth, Ms Englund, and that is a recommendation in itself - I should know. But what would you bring to a job here?’ he asked. ‘Have you brought a curriculum vitae?’
‘I, um, don’t actually have a CV,’ she said. ‘I am my own CV. What you see is what you get.’
Kearns frowned a little. Beth, sitting in a chair alongside Celeste, quickly intervened. ‘She’s too young to have much history, T.J., but she has an aptitude for public relations and dealing with the media.’
Celeste stole a quick glance at Beth, with one eyebrow raised quizzically.
‘If it is the case that what I see is what I get, would you mi
nd standing up, so that I can look at you properly,’ Kearns said. Celeste uncrossed her legs and stood facing him.
‘First impressions are very important in public relations,’ he said. ‘Now turn around.’
Celeste obediently turned so that her back was to Kearns.
‘You certainly look the part,’ Kearns decided, as Celeste resumed her seat. ‘That’s half the battle won, but what about the other half? Clients can be difficult. You would have a lot to learn.’
Beth spoke up again. ‘I’m sure, T.J., that she could learn with your guidance. She is most certainly bright enough...’
‘Let her speak for herself,’ Kearns interrupted Beth.
‘I could learn with your guidance, sir,’ Celeste said, almost echoing her friend. ‘If you helped me you would find that... that I learn very quickly.’
Beth could see that Celeste was struggling, so she took the risk of interjecting again. ‘She sometimes lacks motivation and self-discipline, though. She needs a firm hand, and you, T.J., would be an ideal teacher.’
‘A teacher, yes.’ Kearns seemed to like the thought. ‘I believe in encouraging young talent. Don’t I, Beth? A kind word here, a rebuke there.’
Beth turned to Celeste, urging her with her eyes to wipe the doubtful look off her face. ‘Mr Kearns can be very firm. Fair but firm. You would have to behave yourself.’
Celeste spoke, as if replying to Beth but looking at Kearns. ‘Sometimes,’ she said hesitantly, ‘I do seem to get into trouble when I shouldn’t.’
Kearns was silent for a moment, apparently lost in thought. ‘What exactly are you proposing?’ He looked at them both in turn. ‘And I am not certain who that question should be addressed to,’ he added with a slight smile.
‘A three month contract,’ Celeste said frankly.
‘For a start,’ Beth quickly intervened.
‘As a personal assistant,’ Celeste proposed.