Schooled for Service

by Lady Alice McCloud

  ‘I’ll have the steak, and Dover sole for my wife, with the bottle of the Semillon.’

  The steward withdrew with a bow. An angry denial had been on Thrift’s lips but she swallowed it quickly. The Colonel chuckled.

  ‘Well, well, well, if isn’t my little Lady from the ginnels! Just as well I popped up when I did, eh?’

  ‘I am very well on my own, thank you, sir,’ Thrift answered in the coldest tone she could manage, ‘and so...’

  ‘I asked myself, this afternoon,’ he interrupted, ‘what a ripe little beauty like you would be doing all alone with only her companion, to saying nothing of selling off her most precious asset for a pittance. Deuced odd, I thought, and it seemed to repay a little attention. I saw you run, and what happened to your little blonde friend. You’re in trouble, that’s plain, and my guessing is you’re on the run. Am I right?’

  Thrift didn’t answer, but the blood had gone straight to her face. Again he chuckled.

  ‘I am right,’ he went on, ‘and I know I am, because I had a quick word with the Sergeant and he told me where they were taking little Lucy. Weathercote House of Shame, eh? Who’d have thought it, and you a virgin... ‘til just now.’

  ‘You... you are no gentleman!’ Thrift hissed.

  ‘And you’re no Lady,’ he answered. ‘What filthy stuff did you get up to, eh? To get in a place like that with your cunt not popped? Taking boys up the bum? Or did you get caught with a girlfriend, playing together after a spot of smack bottie, eh?’

  Thrift looked out of the window, blushing furiously, utterly confused and unable to answer him. He went on.

  ‘Bad places, these Houses, so I hear. Scrubbing the floor in the nudie at five in the morning, eh? Some good, hard whippings too, I would suppose, hard tack all round. No place for a little dolly-mop like you, eh? I bet you hated every second of it.’

  ‘Do you... do you mean to report me?’ Thrift managed.

  ‘Good heavens no!’ he answered her. ‘I’ve an offer for you, that’s all, and you’ll hear me out. We both know you’re a wanton little trollop, so let’s have no pretending. You need shelter. I need somewhere to sheath my cock. We should go very nicely together. Once we reach Dublin, I’ll see you off the airship safely, and on to Athlone, where my estates are. There we’ll marry.’

  Thrift looked in horror at the red, sweating face. She thought of how it had felt to be spanked by him, and the horrible things he’d said as he warmed her bottom. She thought of the ugly, twisted penis he had forced so roughly into her body, her mouth and then her quim, and how it had hurt until her natural wantonness had come to her rescue. She thought of Weathercote House, not being allowed to talk, the endless strappings and humiliations, the constant sense of fear, the box. She thought of escape, surely far easier from an Irish country estate where she would at least nominally be the Mistress of the house, or on the way there.

  ‘I... I might be willing to make such a compact,’ she admitted cautiously, ‘although I do feel you are a little harsh in your treatment of me. Thus...’

  ‘Harsh!’ he laughed. ‘Damn it, girl, do you really think I was harsh? Why, every girlie has to have her cunt popped sooner or later, and for all those romantic notions you no doubt entertain it’s far better to be done by a man of experience than some young whelp. Why, I even took the trouble to warm your behind for you first!’

  ‘I was thinking more of your manner towards me,’ she answered him.

  ‘My manner?’ he demanded. ‘What’s the difficulty there? Not enough sweet nothings whispered in your ear, I suppose? Stuff and nonsense! You know what you need as well as I do, a stiff cock in a wet cunt. Oh no, my girl, there’ll be no mawkishness with Colonel Doyle. You’re made to be fucked, and that’s what you’ll get, and you needn’t bother with the pretence. What damn difference does it make, whether its my cock in your hole or some dewy eyed young swain, eh? Not a damn bit, that’s what!’

  A steward was approaching with their bottle of wine and Thrift didn’t answer. Dinner was served, and she tried to eat well and not to sulk as they ploughed steadily on over the Irish Sea. The Colonel seemed to be in something of a hurry, wolfing his steak and then helping Thrift with what remained of her fish before ordering two large brandies. Thrift, already slightly tipsy from her share of the wine, tried to hold off drinking hers, and was struggling to think clearly. Outside, the lights of what was presumably the Isle of Man were visible in the distance, provoking an odd pang of helplessness in her. Following her gaze, the Colonel grunted, and spoke.

  ‘Can’t be far off half-way. Let’s have you in my cabin then, shall we?’

  ‘What... what do you mean to do with me?’ Thrift asked.

  ‘For now? Whip your behind, give you a good stiff fucking and then sodomise you in your own juice.’

  He laughed as the blood rushed to Thrift’s face, then swallowed his brandy in one. She hesitated, her bottom hole already twitching at the prospect, wondering what would happen if she simply screamed for help, perhaps begged aid from the young engineer who was making adjustments to a nearby ventilator. No, it would mean certain exposure, and back to Weathercote House, the box and a hundred or more strokes of the strap, while she had taken cocks in her bottom before...

  She rose and downed her brandy, accepting the Colonel’s arm as he moved off in the direction of the cabins. Hardly a glance was spared them from the other passengers as they crossed the lounge and moved into the corridor. Then she was in his cabin, the door locked behind them and it was too late. He turned to her, grinning, a single drop of sweat running down over the red skin of his forehead.

  ‘Let’s be seeing you, then, nude this time, I think. After all, it’s nice to know what I’m getting.’

  ‘Nude?’ Thrift asked. ‘Completely?’

  ‘Stark bollock naked,’ he answered as he pulled out the folding bed and sat down heavily. ‘No need to be coy, girl. Damn it, I’ve seen your cunt and arsehole both haven’t I? Now strip.’

  Thrift’s fingers went to the neck of her dress. He gave a satisfied grunt and settled back on the bed to work on his fly. It came open as Thrift began to unbutton her dress, and he scooped out his cock and balls, then pushed his trousers and long johns to his ankles. With her hands shaking so hard she could barely manage her buttons and laces, Thrift continued to undress, his eyes feasting on her body as he stroked his cock. Her dress came off, her bustle, her petticoats, one by one, her corset, fumbled open and discarded to leave her in only her most intimate garments.

  By then he was erect, his face puce in colour and sweating liberally, his cock a thick rod of gnarled flesh, the twisted shaft held in his hand, the bulbous red tip already wet with bubbles of fluid. He seemed about to come, and, wondering if she might not be able to spare her bottom hole, Thrift began to make a show of undressing, teasing with her breasts before spilling them free of her chemise and wiggling it down off her shoulders, and pushing her bottom out towards him as she unfastened her drawers and let them drop. In nothing but stockings and boots, she turned, raising a knee to complete her strip, only for him to grunt an order.

  ‘You’ll do very well like that, on second thoughts, now across my knee with you, and you’ll see what happens to little teases! Come on, bottom up you go, smack bottie time!’

  Thrift swallowed, but got down, bending across his knee with her bottom lifted. He gave a lewd chuckle, his hands found her bottom, groping at her flesh and briefly pulling her cheeks wide to make an inspection of her anus, then, taking her firmly around the waist as before, he began to spank, and to talk.

  ‘By God but you’ve a glorious backside, you darling little trollop you! Well padded, aren’t you, eh? And the pertest little cunt a man could wish for, and as for your arsehole, a bugger’s delight, good and tight and...’

  He trailed off as he pulled Thrift’s bottom cheeks apart once again, this time holdi
ng them wide to make a more leisurely inspection of the puckered hole between. Thrift had already begun to whimper at the sheer humiliation of his words, and at the spanking, for all that it was gentle, and her noises grew louder as he admired her bottom hole, and louder still as a fat finger touched the little ring. She felt her hole tighten automatically, he laughed, and she burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t be so damn wet!’ he swore, and let go, then began to spank again, harder than before, slapping merrily away at her cheeks to make them bounce and wobble. ‘You are your damn tears! We both know you love it, don’t we? Spanking and fucking both, eh, you little tart! Now come on with you and stick up, good and high.’

  The smacks of male hand on soft female bottom flesh blended with Thrift’s cries and sobs as he laid in, harder and harder, until she had begun to kick her feet and toss her hair in her pain, with her dangling breasts bouncing under her chest and her hands clutching at the floor and the bed. By the time he stopped again her bottom had begun to glow and she was panting and dizzy, but he kept her in position, held firmly around the waist. He began to fondle her bottom again, stroking her hot cheeks and tickling down between them, on her anus and quim, into which he suddenly pushed a finger, speaking again as Thrift gasped in shock.

  ‘Good to think this little cunt hole’ll only ever be mine, eh? Not that you needn’t expect the odd mounting for show, if you know what I mean, but strictly up your arse. I’ll be away a bit, of course, and you’ll have to go in restraint, seeing as how you’re a wanton, but I’ll leave your arsehole unblocked. How’s that for generosity, eh?’

  Thrift could only manage a miserable sob. He was fingering her, deep in, but pulled out suddenly, to let her hole close with a wet farting noise even as his hand smacked down on her bottom with the full force of his arm. Thrift screamed, and was writhing and kicking again as he went on spanking, and talking.

  ‘I asked you a question, damn it!’ he swore. ‘How d’you liked to be buggered, eh? Hard and often, I’ll bet, you dirty little minx. That was what got you in Weathercote, I’ll be bound, taking it up the dirt road so as you can keep your precious virginity!’

  ‘No!’ Thrift wailed, barely able to speak between cries and gasps as her bottom was smacked.

  It stopped. Once again her cheeks were hauled wide. Once again a big finger was pushed up into her quim, only this time it was pulled straight out and the creamy tip wiped on her bottom hole, which began to twitch and pulse at the prospect of penetration.

  ‘Never been buggered?’ he guffawed. ‘That’s not what Brown Billy here says, is it? Oh no, my girl, you can’t fool old Colonel Doyle. By God, but see her wink, eh? You had it up sure enough, many a time. Who was it, damn you?’

  He had been slowly easing her anus open as he spoke, her ring twitching constantly and her sobbing growing louder and more ragged as the dreadful consternation built up in her head to the certain knowledge that she was to be sodomised. Abruptly his finger pushed in, well up, making her gasp as her rectum was penetrated.

  ‘Who, damn you?’ he repeated. ‘I know it’s true, so why won’t you tell me? Some idle little bastard from the enclave? A tutor perhaps? A servant? Yes, that’s it, isn’t it, one of Papa’s footmen, I’ll bet, right up your dirt road with those fat cheeks held apart to help him, eh? Eh!?’

  ‘No!’ Thrift gasped. ‘It was a gentleman... a French gentleman...’

  ‘A Frenchman!?’ he snorted. ‘Why, you little tart, you, by God but you earn your spankings, don’t you just?’

  He withdrew his finger from her anus and laid in again, as hard as ever, instantly reducing Thrift to a writhing, quivering mess, bucking and screaming across his lap, with the spittle from his mouth raining down on her hot cheeks. Her body was out of control, bucking frantically, all four limbs waving wildly about, her head tossing up and down. When it did stop it was only a pause, and he had grabbed a big, silver handled clothes brush from the window ledge, laying in with it harder than ever, to send Thrift into a screaming, blubbering tantrum, her bottom one huge, agonised ball of pain as she was thrashed. He was laughing as he beat her, loud and deep, and calling her a wanton, a trollop, a tart and a whore, keeping a constant edge of humiliation to her overwhelming distress.

  ‘...and that, my ripe little tart, will do,’ he announced, and it had stopped, leaving Thrift racked with sobs, tear-stained and shaking across his lap.

  Again his finger pushed in up her quim.

  ‘Sopping,’ he said with satisfaction, ‘damn me, but you cream well to a spanking. Now, best keep you open behind...’

  He trailed off, and Thrift gasped once more as the warm, round tip of the clothes brush she’d been beaten with was pushed in between her bottom cheeks, and up, her slippery anus giving way easily to admit the full length of the handle into her rectum. He spent a moment buggering her with it, to leave her panting in reaction, then stopped, to push her from his lap.

  ‘Get on your knees,’ he ordered. ‘Hands on your head and stick those tits out.’

  Thrift obeyed, scrambling down to get into position, knelt up with her hands on the bedraggled mop of her auburn curls and her breasts quivering faintly as she pushed them forward for his inspection. His cock was still rigid, and he gave it a brief tug before he reached out to take her breasts, bouncing them in his hands and rubbing his thumbs over her embarrassingly stiff nipples.

  ‘Hmm, fine fat bubbies,’ he remarked, ‘not always a big arsed girl has decent bubbies too. Push ‘em together and I’ll fuck in your cleavage.’

  Thrift obeyed, hoping he would come, and doing her best to make him, jiggling her breasts about as she folded his cock between them and licking at the ugly knob as it began to bob up and down in the pink slit between them. She could feel the clothes brush waggling in her bottom hole as her breasts were fucked, and for all her very real suffering she was fighting the urge to touch her quim.

  He didn’t come, but withdrew, cocking his knees wide he lay back on the bed to present her with his erect cock and heavy scrotum. She went forward of her own accord, to take the big, ugly penis in her mouth and suck, again determined to make him come before he had a chance to force her bottom hole. He took her by the hair and began to fuck her mouth, so that for a moment she thought she’d done it, only for him to stop and ease her back.

  ‘Lick my balls,’ he demanded.

  She was given little choice, his grip tight in her hair as her face was pressed to the hairy, wrinkly sac. Her tongue came out, lapping at the salty flesh as he moved her head from side to side and up and down, then close, forcing her to take them in her mouth. She was gagging almost immediately, from the thick taste and the tickling of his hair, and struggling to move them to stop the awful sensation. He gave a pleased grunt, then spoke.

  ‘That’s the way, you saucy little tart, roll ‘em around on your tongue. How’s it feel, eh, with a good fat pair of balls in your mouth and your backside well warmed? Now lick again, and lower, on my arsehole, and no nonsense.’

  Her head was pulled up, off his balls, and forced down again, her mouth pressed into the deep slit between his meaty buttocks. She began to struggle, determined not to do it, but he just laughed and pushed her head lower still, and deeper in, using her nose to rub between his cheeks, the tip well in his anus, sending Thrift into agonised consternation as she began to bat at him in useless protest. He laughed.

  ‘Best to do as you’re told, my little beauty, now get your tongue in, unless you’d like those fat titties smacked with my clothes brush?’

  Thrift shook her head frantically and poked out her tongue, her face screwing up in disgust as she began to lick between his buttocks, then on his anus as her head was moved. He began to wank his cock with his spare hand, but slowly, just nursing his erection, and laughing in delight as her tongue lapped at his ring. Thrift’s stomach had begun to tighten in revolt, and twice she was forced to swallow hard to st
op herself being sick all over him, but still he held her in place, until his anus had been licked well clean. He spoke as he jerked her head back by the hair.

  ‘Now for your buggering, my girl. Over the bed with you, and hold those fat cheeks apart.’

  She nodded weakly, at last resigning herself to being sodomised, and got into position, her upper body on the folding bed, her bottom stuck well out, the clothes brush quivering in her anus to her trembling. He took hold of it and eased it out, her hole closing behind with a rasping fart, and to her horror it was being offered to her mouth. She shook her head, her lips pursed in determination.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t like the taste of your own arse?’

  Again she shook her head. He reached forward, his body pressing to hers, and suddenly his cock was in her quim, sliding up the easy passage with one firm push. She gasped, her mouth wide for one instant and the clothes brush handle had been pushed in. As he began to fuck her she was struggling to spit it out, but he held it firmly in place, laughing at her as she squirmed helplessly on his cock and the brush, spitted at both ends, with her cheeks bulging and her eyes popping as the taste of her bottom filled her senses.

  It was too much, the awful sense of consternation which had been growing inside her boiled over, and she burst into tears again. He took no notice, fucking her to a steady, even rhythm as he fed the brush handle in and out of her mouth. Then he was out, and shifting position behind her. Thrift spat the brush out as he wiped his juice-covered cock in her bottom crease, rubbing the head on her hole. Again he dipped in her quim, and out again, to smear the cream he’d withdrawn onto her already slimy anus.

  ‘Buggered in your own juice, eh?’ he chortled, and again he shifted.

  Thrift let out a broken whimper as his bulbous belly pressing to her hot bottom cheeks, the head of his cock to the hole between. For a moment she tried to hold herself closed, clamping her ring tight as the big cock sought entrance to her rectum, but she was too slippery, her anus already spreading.