The girl was in the act of pulling her trousers clear of her ankles, a pose that left her bottom stuck out with the wet white panties clinging to her lush curves. She was truly magnificent, her bottom plump and heavy, yet without a hint of sag, perfect spanking material. With her jeans off she put her hands to her top, tugging it high to reveal huge breasts spilling from an overtight bra. It too was wet, and as she turned he could see the darker rings of her nipples quite clearly through the material.
The door chimed and he looked up with a start, expecting to see some rough young men, accomplices of the girl. Instead an elderly lady entered, enquiring the price of a figurine in the window display. He responded, only then remembering that he had put his spanking magazine down on the floor, forgetting to tuck it out of sight under the armchair. A ghastly feeling of embarrassment welled up inside him as he realised that it would be in plain view of the girl, yet he could do nothing, only answer the old lady’s questions. When she finally left he was red-faced and wringing his hands, imagining her angry accusations, of perversion, maybe even of trying to trick her in some way. Yet he could hear nothing.
Praying that she had somehow failed to notice the magazine, he stepped quickly to the door, turning the sign to CLOSED despite the half-hour or so until his normal lunch break. Returning to the door, he knocked.
‘Are you decent? May I come in?’ he asked. ‘There’s a towel by the wash basin if you need it.’
‘I have it, thank you kindly,’ she answered, which he took as assent for him to enter.
He pushed the door open, only to stop, his face reddening. She was in his armchair, wrapped in the towel, his dirty magazine open in her hands. His hand went to his face, preparing for the flood of abuse and complaint — but nothing came.
‘Thank you, you are so kind,’ she said. ‘This young lady, why is she being punished?’
There was no antagonism in her voice, not even sarcasm. She was holding the magazine out, displaying the extraordinarily rude centre spread of the girl getting her spanking, a picture he was sure would send any real girl into furious indignation. Was she simple, or really so innocent that she didn’t realise the sexual implications of the picture? The former seemed the more likely answer, and went with her wandering around in wet clothes and agreeing to strip off in the back of a strange man’s shop. The idea that her lack of guile might be taken advantage of entered his head unbidden, to be pushed down immediately with a stab of guilt. He might like the idea of girls being spanked, but he was no abuser.
‘Um… She was naughty,’ he answered, reaching out for the magazine.
‘In what way, to need to be beaten so sternly?’ the girl asked. ‘With a stick and by hand. I am afraid I cannot read well, hardly at all to be truthful.’
She was simple, she had to be, he decided as he took the magazine. His fingers were shaking hard, and it was impossible not to glance at the deep slice of cleavage and ample expanse of smooth thigh showing above and below the towel. She paid no attention, clearly waiting for him to answer her question. He flicked the page over, showing pictures of the hapless girl stripping and touching her toes for the cane, then back, to those of her playing tennis with her panties showing as the skirt rose and of her being taken by the ear before punishment. Sure that if he created a fuss she would be more likely to tell somebody, he could think of no answer other than the reason given in the photo-story.
‘She was supposed to be revising, not playing tennis,’ he said quickly.
‘Revising?’ she answered.
‘Studying,’ he said, ‘working for her exams, to try for university.’
‘I understand: the book gives moral advice. She looks very funny, but it must have hurt so dreadfully. I always laughed when my sisters were spanked, and I know it was cruel, but they would laugh when it happened to me.’
Mr Hobbers could find no answer. Having the beautiful, near-naked girl confess to getting spanked, and in front of her sisters, was as much as he could bear. It was impossible not to think of her, bent across her mother’s knee, perhaps with her jeans pulled down, maybe even her panties, her sisters giggling as her bottom was slapped to a glowing pink. The temptation to ask for more detail was strong, almost overwhelming.
‘The waiting was the worst bit, really,’ she went on, apparently indifferent to his red face and quickening breathing. ‘We would have to kneel on the settle with our dresses turned up to show our bottoms. We were supposed to think on our transgressions. I never did: I always thought of how much the punishment was going to hurt.’
‘Did… did it happen often?’ he asked, failing to keep the catch from his voice.
He had given in, telling himself that just talking could do no harm and that he was unlikely to have such an opportunity ever again. His cock was stiff in his trousers as well. Resistance was no longer possible, not just because of what she was saying, but the way she was saying it, pensive yet gay, recalling the pain and indignity of her punishment, yet without rancour, in fact almost playfully.
‘Not so often,’ she answered, ‘at least not to me. Emily was the naughty one. Sometimes I think she did it on purpose, just so everyone would pay attention to her, even if it was to her bottom.’
The girl giggled, making her breasts quiver. Mr Hobbers swallowed, wondering if he truly had the willpower to keep his hands to himself. It would have been so easy to reach out and tweak the towel open, exposing her lovely big breasts, the soft swell of her belly, the little furry triangle that would show between her thighs…
‘Tell me about when it happened to you,’ he demanded, abandoning the last pretence of disinterest.
‘I was the eldest,’ she replied, still quite casual. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Thomazina.’
‘Frank,’ he answered weakly, ‘Frank Hobbers. Go on.’
‘I was the eldest,’ she repeated, ‘and I suppose I was the best behaved. At least, I would like to think so. I was forgetful sometimes, though, and that was why I was spanked, the last time. It was after milking, and I was taking the cows back when I met Jan Raxun in the lane. We were courting, in a way, so we walked together. I was much too fussed over him to mind my business, and I didn’t shut the gate properly, so all the cows went out, down along the lane. Mother was furious and told me to get on the settle right away, while she fetched a stick. I made a dreadful fuss, saying I was too old to be spanked and that at least Emily and Jane should be sent out of the house, but Mother would have none of it. So up I went, on to the settle with my skirts turned up high and my poor bare bottom stuck out to the fire. Emily and Jane giggled like anything, and teased me about being so hairy below. Mother gave me twenty cuts and I was howling by the time it was over, but I was made to stay there while they all had tea.’
Mr Hobbers suppressed a groan. Thomazina’s voice was merry, chattering, a girl describing a funny but somewhat embarrassing experience, with none of the resentment and hurt he would have expected in a spanked girl’s voice. From what she said it was also obvious that her panties had been taken down, leaving her bare in front of her sisters. His hands were trembling, and his cock felt like an iron bar in his trousers.
‘You are very excited,’ she said, pointing to the bulge in his trousers. ‘Is it because I have no clothes on under my towel?’
‘Yes,’ he sobbed, ‘and because of what you’ve been saying.’
‘About being spanked?’ she giggled. ‘I remember the boys liked to watch if they could, and it made their little men hard too, because they had seen our bottoms. Afterwards they would show us and make us touch them if they could catch us. I liked that, it always seemed to make the spanking hurt less.’
‘You wouldn’t… I mean, I don’t suppose you’d like to do it now, to me?’ he managed.
‘Why, certainly, Mr Hobbers, and I shall show you my bosom. The boys always liked my bosom.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ he groaned as her towel dropped.
They were truly enormous, great fat g
lobes of girl flesh, wobbling gently as she giggled at his reaction. Her nipples were rosy pink, quite big and stiff. Beneath her breasts her waist was tight, flaring to broad hips still hidden beneath the towel, her tummy a small, soft bulge, dimpled at the centre by a neat tummy button. He could only stare, his blood pounding as he took in her beauty, a sight he had never expected to see again, at least not outside the pages of a magazine.
‘I shall take him out for you. Would you enjoy that?’ she asked.
He nodded, watching transfixed as she leaned forward. Her fingers went to his fly, fumbling at the mechanism, then pulling it down. His cock pushed at the opening and she giggled as her hand brushed the hard flesh through his underpants. Then they had been pulled open at the front and his erection was out, in her hand. She began to masturbate him, tugging his cock towards her body in a determined, matter-of-fact way as if she thought nothing of taking an old man’s cock in her hand.
‘There we are,’ she said. ‘Is that pleasant?’
‘Beautiful,’ he groaned, ‘and so are you.’
‘Why, thank you.’
She continued to masturbate him, although his legs were beginning to hurt and his cock to fail in response. Thomazina said nothing, but let go, lifted her breasts and folded his cock and balls between them, rubbing the plump meat into him. He groaned and began to push himself into her cleavage, fucking her breasts, only to find the pain in his legs growing worse.
‘I must sit, my dear,’ he groaned. ‘I fear that at my age this is a little much.’
‘How thoughtless of me!’ she answered. ‘Certainly you must sit, and I shall sit on your knee.’
She stood, letting the towel drop away without thought for the consequences. Hobbers lowered himself into the armchair and made a knee for her, his eyes fixed on the plump swell of her sex. He desperately wanted to ask her to show him her bottom, even if he might spank her, but his fear of breaking the moment overcame his need, and as she settled herself on to his knee the chance was gone. She leaned close, placing an arm around his shoulder and making herself comfortable, her breasts pressing to him as she once more took his cock in hand.
‘There we are. Now you will soon be off,’ she announced cheerfully and went back to masturbating him.
His let his hand stray to her bottom, taking one chubby cheek and moulding the flesh, still half expecting her to protest. Thomazina made no objection, only giving him a playful squeeze and tugging a little faster on his cock. He was nearly there, his eyes fixed on her body, watching her breasts and tummy wobble to the rhythm of her furiously jerking arm, his head full of images of her being upended and spanked in front of her sisters.
‘Tell me again,’ he groaned. ‘Tell me how you were spanked, about how mother pulled your panties down.’
‘Drawers do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but say panties, please say panties.’
‘Oh, we didn’t wear those,’ she laughed. ‘Just a dress and petticoats, two for Sunday best.’
‘No panties?’ he breathed.
‘No panties,’ she answered. ‘It’s a lot more comfortable, you know. I like to go without , but I know girls are supposed to wear them, and with skirts so short nowadays…’
‘The spanking, tell me about the spanking.’
‘Oh, sorry, silly me. So I was spanked in front of Emily and Jane, with my skirt and petticoat up on my back so my poor bottom stuck out. They laughed so much at the sight Mother threatened to give them the same if they didn’t stop. That shut them up, but I still howled, and then I had to stay like that right through tea, with my bottom showing and feeling thoroughly sorry for myself…’
Hobbers came, his sperm erupting from his cock as Thomazina squeaked in surprise. Immediately she ducked down, catching the second ejaculation in her face. She took his cock in her mouth, sucking and swallowing to drain his sperm, all the while looking up into his face with one big, deep-green eye watching him and the other closed, shut by a blob of sperm. He let her suck, lost in ecstasy as he imagined the sight of her, kneeling bare-bottomed while her mother and sisters casually took tea. Only when he had begun to go limp did she stop, pulling back to once more settle her fleshy bottom on to his knee.
‘You should have said,’ she chided. ‘It is always much better to let the girl take it in her mouth. Otherwise it gets all messy. A boyfriend told me that after I’d made a mess of his car seat, and look what you’ve done to your nice clothes!’
He was still puffing and could find nothing to say, but only lie back as she took a tissue and cleaned the mess from her face and his trousers. As before, she was quite casual, indifferent to her nudity as she mopped up. He felt guilty, sure that he had taken advantage of a simple girl, also worried, thinking of angry parents or a boyfriend. Yet in many ways she seemed anything but simple, merely extraordinarily innocent and utterly immoral. Through thirty-five years of marriage, numerous prostitutes and a handful of early girlfriends, he had never before met a woman who approached the task of masturbating him in so easy a manner. Some had been eager, more reluctant; Thomazina had been breezy, as if hanging the washing out, or making a bed.
‘My coin, I must show you my coin,’ she said, moving towards where she had laid out her jeans in his tiny kitchen.
She bent, clearly visible through the door, making a prime display of her ripe bottom and even giving him a glimpse of plump pussy lips in dark hair.
‘Quite,’ he managed. ‘How are your clothes?’
‘Still wet, I’m afraid,’ she answered. ‘Ah, here it is.’
Hobbers reached out, expecting some ordinary pre-decimal piece but determined to break the habit of a lifetime and pay her a decent amount. Even if it was worthless he intended to make a fuss, only to be brought up short as she passed him a large, very obviously gold coin and sat back on his knee. He looked at it, trying to ignore the feel of her naked bottom on his leg.
‘Portuguese,’ he remarked, peering close. ‘Be a dear and pass me my lens. There, by the books.’
Thomazina moved, again giving him a flash of spread bottom as she reached down for the lens. Despite his recent orgasm he found himself blowing out his cheeks and wondering if her casual attitude to dispensing sexual favours extended to being spanked. She had been punished, and she didn’t seem to find the pain and indignity too unbearable…
‘Is it of value at all?’ she asked, breaking his train of thought as she once more settled herself on his knee.
‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘it is a standard piece, struck at Porto in 1642. Would you accept three hundred pounds for it?’
‘Three hundred pounds? Why, sir!’ Thomazina answered.
‘Four hundred?’ Hobbers answered quickly, thinking of soft, fleshy bottoms and her firm hand on his erection.
As Nich explained his intentions Yasmin felt a rising sense of mischief, also a touch of jealousy that Violet had managed to bag him so quickly. Not that she would necessarily be excluded, as they had shared boyfriends before, yet there was definitely something proprietorial about the way she had held his hand as they climbed the slope of Aldon Hill.
They had reached the top, an area of rough furze around the barrow itself. It had always given her a feeling of mystery and power, much as she felt at Stonehenge or when she and Violet had visited the Grey Wethers. Now it was stronger, and although she found it impossible to accept all of what Nich was saying, there was no difficulty in believing that the great low mound of earth had once been the site of pagan rituals in Celtic and pre-Celtic times.
Since her rejection of the religion into which she had been born, she had come to embrace more and more of modern paganism, finding it free and inspiring to her femininity as against the moral restrictions her parents had tried to force upon her. Nich’s words filled her with rebellious joy, a pleasure akin to what she felt during sex or even swimming topless, acts that would once have been regarded as grossly insubordinate.
‘The Brittany temple is open, and faces the sea,’ Nich was saying. ‘I
suspect the same is true here.’
He angled to the left, moving to the front of the Wythman and climbing the narrow path that had been worn in the long grass. Yasmin followed, her sense of the mystical increasing. Nich performed a quick gesture, making a half-bow to the sea which Violet hastened to copy, Yasmin also. The top of the Wythman was flat, an expanse of tall grass some ten yards wide by close to a hundred long, sultry and warm in the hot sunlight, strangely quiet, with no sound but the gentle hum of insects.
‘I shall sunbathe, starkers,’ Violet said suddenly. ‘That’s if it wouldn’t be sacrilege and if Nich would be a sweetie and keep an eye on the path.’
‘A pleasure,’ Nich answered, giving Violet the same formal bow he had made towards the sea. ‘As to sacrilege, I imagine having a naked woman lying on top of his barrow would be entirely in keeping with Sigodin-Yth’s ethos.’
‘Then I shall do it,’ Violet said. ‘Come on, Yasmin, keep me company.’
Violet peeled up her dress, revealing purple panties and bra, which she quickly shrugged off with no more than a glance at where the path came up from below. Yasmin followed suit, her sense of mischief growing as she peeled, making a point of going all the way. She was quickly naked, doing her best to seem casual about the display of her body in front of Nich. He had squatted down, folding his legs beneath him so that he could see the slope of the hill while both girls were hidden in the grass.
With the hot sun on her bare skin and the faintest of breezes ruffling her hair and making the grass stir around her, Yasmin felt both happy and pleasantly naughty. She was nude in the open, a sensation she loved at any time, better still when it involved showing off to a man.
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