by Penny Birch
‘How do you want me?’ she asked, and stood up.
She looked absolutely terrifying, and not at all as you’d expect of a girl who was about to take seventy-two cane strokes. Her jacket was open, showing the man’s vest beneath with her small breasts making two neat bumps in the plain, white material, which was tight over her lean, muscular midriff. She was taller than Jemima by several inches, and the muscles of her long, powerful legs showed through the leather of her trousers, an image that made me want to grovel on the floor.
‘Well then?’ she demanded.
I glanced at Pippa for support, but she gave an urgent shake of her head. Jemima just thought it was funny.
‘Um … however you like,’ I offered. ‘What would be most comfortable?’
‘You’re the one who likes her arse smacked, you tell me.’
‘Er … on the bed, lying over a pillow?’
She shrugged and started for the stairs. I quickly pulled up my knickers and jeans to follow, realised I’d forgotten the cane and had to go back for it. Pippa stayed as she was, unwilling to watch her mistress beaten, but Jemima came with me, giggling in delight. By the time I got upstairs AJ was already in my bedroom, leaning against the window with her arms folded across her chest. I took one of my pillows from the top of my bed and rearranged it in the centre, my fingers shaking as I plumped it up to make sure she’d be as comfortable as possible.
‘There we are,’ I told her, and her hand went to the button of her trousers.
‘You don’t have to go bare,’ I offered, ‘not if you don’t want to.’
‘Shut up, Miss Muffet,’ she answered me, and she pushed her trousers down.
She had no knickers on, as usual, and I glimpsed the barbed-wire tattoo on her pubic mound before she turned to climb on to the bed, exposing her bottom. I’d licked both, many times, often after punishment, and even as she positioned herself on the bed with her bottom raised by the pillow it was hard to picture her as a suitable recipient for the cane. She’d want her revenge too, I was sure of that, and that it would be both painful and humiliating.
‘Get on with it then,’ she ordered, and I realised I’d been holding back.
I laid the cane across her bottom, lifted it and brought it down with a gentle thwack. She turned her face to look at me.
‘Don’t be pathetic, Miss Muffet.’
Again I applied the cane, this time leaving a faint pink line across the hard swell of her cheeks. She settled her chin on her hands, her face unreadable, and she didn’t speak, which I took to mean that the stroke had been hard enough. I gave her another, and a fourth, slightly harder. Still she failed to react, and my confidence began to build, until with a dozen pink lines decorating her bottom cheeks I was wondering if deep down she wasn’t enjoying herself and had simply found an excuse to switch.
If so, she’d never given the least sign of it before, and as I continued to beat her she still refused to show either pain or pleasure, neither wincing to the cuts nor sticking her bottom up, something I’ve found few women can resist once they’re warm. She had at least begun to juice, and the warm smell of her pussy was growing gradually richer in the air, but that told me nothing about what was going on in her head.
By thirty strokes I was caning her quite hard. The lines across her bum were getting red, and some of her welts were marked with tramlines on either side. I was starting to enjoy it too, despite myself, and thinking of all the times she’d spanked me, belted me, caned me, made me lick her pussy and kiss her anus, pissed on me, clamped my nipples and tortured my breasts, stuck pins in my bottom, flushed my head down my own used lavatory …
It was only when she finally winced that I realised I’d been using the full force of my arm to bring the cane down across her bottom, but it didn’t stop me. Her bottom was already a mess of angry welts and purple bruising, so it was far too late. Whatever horrible revenge she took was unlikely to get any worse, whatever I did to her, and I had only ten strokes left anyway.
I applied them with full force, slashing the cane down across her buttocks to make her jerk and hiss with every blow. Still she kept control of herself, her teeth gritted to hold in her cries and her fingers locked hard in my bedcover, and even as I gave her the final stroke across the back of her thighs she held on, although her body was shaking badly and she was forced to close her eyes to cope with the pain.
‘Seventy-two,’ I said, all my fear washing back as I dropped the cane to the floor.
‘So you have got some guts,’ she said, and began to climb carefully off the bed.
She inspected her bottom in the mirror, rather casually, more as if she was checking what she’d done to somebody else than to assess her own damage. I waited, fidgeting, sure that at any moment she would turn on me, but when she spoke her voice was quite calm.
‘Would you mind going downstairs, Jemima? I want to speak to Penny alone.’
Jemima hesitated, obviously not wanting to miss out on whatever was going to be done to me, but left the room, shutting the door behind her. AJ waited until the sound of Jemima’s footsteps on the stairs had faded, then spoke again.
‘What the fuck did you think you were playing at? You set me up for this, didn’t you?’
‘No!’ I squealed. ‘I wanted Jemima caned, I told you! I promise!’
She reached out to take me by the chin, squeezing as she tilted my head up to look into her eyes.
‘So how come you signalled me to keep my cards in the ring?’
‘I didn’t! I meant to let you know you were safe to fold. It … it was Pippa’s fault! She should have thrown in when she had the three aces! Honestly, AJ, it was an accident, that’s all. I didn’t mean to … ouch, you’re hurting!’
I’d been babbling, in genuine fear, sure she was going to slap me in the face or something. She didn’t, but kept her grip, staring deep into my eyes for a long moment before speaking again.
‘You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?’
‘Yes!’
‘OK then, but you’re a silly bitch, you know that?’
‘I suppose so,’ I admitted, and she let go of my chin. ‘What are you going to do to me?’
‘I don’t know. I’m tempted to cane your fat arse in front of the girls, but the trouble with you sluts is that you just get off on it, don’t you?’
I managed a weak smile but held my peace, not wanting to make any suggestions for my own punishment. It seemed like a good moment to change the topic of conversation.
‘You know you can punish me whenever you want, AJ, but we really do need to make sure Jemima’s bottom gets marked.’
‘No problem. Let’s just thrash the little tart. We’ve all been done, haven’t we, so why should she get away with it?’
‘That seems reasonable, or we could always play another round of the game. She’s very turned on.’
‘So am I, which is why you’re going to kiss my arse better before we go downstairs.’
I wasn’t going to ask if it was the caning that had aroused her, spanking me and watching Pippa beaten, or simply two hours of sex and tension. She still had her trousers down, but instead of sitting on the bed and making me kneel for her as she usually did, she simply pushed her bottom out, resting her hands on her knees with her head half turned so that she could see herself in the mirror.
Like Pippa and Jemima, she was so slim she showed everything from behind even with her bottom stuck out just a little, so as I got down on my knees I had a clear view of the pouted lips of her sex, with the barbed-wire design on her mound and the twin piercings between, also her bumhole, which I knew full well was where she wanted my tongue.
I had a perfect view of her welts as well, both muscular, egg-shaped cheeks criss-crossed with vivid red lines and blotchy with bruising. As I puckered up my lips to kiss her cheeks I felt genuinely sorry for what I’d done to her. I unfastened my jeans as I began to kiss her welts, keen to masturbate while I licked her bottom and only sorry that my cunt wasn’t swollen t
o the size of a grapefruit while I did it. My hand went down the front of my knickers, teasing as I lapped up the salty taste of her skin where she’d broken sweat during her beating.
She tasted good, and I was soon licking eagerly, all over her cheeks and between, ever closer to her anus. A moment more and I’d pushed my jeans and panties back down, baring my bottom so that I could stroke my still warm cheeks while I remembered how she’d spanked me. With that I let my face go fully in between her cheeks, lapping in her crease before burrowing my tongue in up her bumhole.
I could taste her, bringing my ecstasy higher through my own deliberate degradation, licking another woman’s bottom clean as I masturbated. My hands had gone back and front, touching my own bottom hole and rubbing my pussy to send little shivers through my body. I was going to come at any moment, unable to stop myself as I licked ever harder and pushed my tongue deeper in up her now open, slippery bumhole.
She was sighing with pleasure, and I knew I was really supposed to make her come before I did, but I couldn’t stop myself. I went into a jerking, wriggling orgasm, with one finger up my own bumhole, my other hand clutching at my eager cunt and my tongue pushed in up AJ’s bottom just as far as it would go, dirty bum-licking little slut that I am.
Even when I’d come I didn’t stop licking, but buried my face between AJ’s cheeks, my nose now in her bottom hole as I licked at her pussy, flicking my tongue over her piercings and on to her clit until she too reached her climax. I took hold of her hips at the last moment and held on to her, my face smothered in her bottom, enjoying my own submission until she at last pulled away.
‘You needn’t think that pays for my caning,’ she said immediately.
‘I don’t,’ I answered her.
‘Good, so long as that’s understood. Now let’s get washed up and we’ll get that little brat Jemima, turn and turn about, until the Marquis de Sade himself would feel sorry for her.’
I nodded agreement and we made for the bathroom, where I had a quick shower and helped rub cream into AJ’s bottom, with the inevitable consequence that I ended up having to bring her to a second orgasm. By the time we’d finished I was beginning to worry that Jemima might no longer be on heat, and when we came downstairs it was to find her and Pippa sipping tea from my best cups. Not that it would have stopped us thrashing her, but they were no longer alone. A third woman was seated where I’d so recently had my hot bottom parked on the hard wicker – my mother.
Four
OUR DAY OF departure arrived with Jemima still un-spanked. There had been no further opportunities, for either Pippa or myself, what with needing to rearrange my entire schedule and sort out all the academic and administrative details that crop up at the end of every university term.
I hadn’t seen Hudson Staebler either, and knew only that I was supposed to meet him at Heathrow and that he had personally taken care of my flight details. That at least was generous, but beyond some vague remarks by Jemima I had no idea what we’d be doing once we got there. The basketball game was in New York, but the video people were apparently elsewhere, while Hudson’s main home was in Fort Lauderdale in Florida.
It seemed sensible to travel light, but I needed smart clothes for the conference, plus suitable things for both New York and the country, so I ended up with two good-sized suitcases. I’d thought about packing my pussy pump, but decided against it, too horrified by the possibility of an inquisitive customs officer finding it and demanding to know what it was for. It was made in the US anyway, so I could presumably pick up another one to keep me amused during what looked like being several very dull evenings in a Phoenix hotel while I was at the conference.
For all my misgivings about his relationship with Jemima I found it impossible to feel antagonistic towards Hudson Staebler. With his massive frame and calm, gentlemanly dominance he had everything I like in a man, so much so that I was prepared to overlook his accent and dress sense. He was also generous and extremely helpful, paying for all three of us to travel business class and staying with us through customs. I couldn’t help but admire the way he handled his fellow Americans either, maintaining a friendly yet commanding air and dishing out lavish tips, which had them jumping to our assistance. Jemima had been entranced with him for months, and I was beginning to see why. He made us feel protected as few men can.
I’m usually rather inept when I visit anywhere new, especially abroad, but with Hudson to rely on I was able to take in the atmosphere of New York without any of the usual concerns, such as being cheated by cab drivers or finding that the booking for my hotel room had failed to go through. There was no hotel anyway, as Hudson had an apartment in Tribeca, the district of Manhattan in which he’d organised his all-girl basketball team.
Of all the cities in the world, New York must get the most TV coverage, but all you ever see is the centre. I was surprised by how long it took to get from the airport to Manhattan, and by how complicated the streets were, very different from the huge but simple grid pattern I had imagined. Perhaps conscious of my disapproval, Hudson had said very little about his enterprise during the flight, but as we drove through Queens his enthusiasm got the better of him.
‘This is where the Queens team come from,’ he explained. ‘Morris says they’re winners, but I figure my babes have got a good chance of taking them out. In the early rounds they took the Liberty Belles down seventy-seven to sixty-one, and we only beat them sixty-two to fifty-six in the first round, but now we’ve got better players, like Jem.’
‘You’ve already played some games then?’
‘Sure. It’s been going two years now, only it takes a lot of fine tuning. The first match was for a video, between two teams from all over the place, girls in porno mainly, but the idea caught on. Now we’ve got twelve teams, from all over the city and elsewhere, each with a coach, colours, their own little outfit, the works. You’ll love the Tails’ gear. They’re bunny rabbits, ’cause they’re the Tails, get it? There’s a bunny mask, with ears, and it’s all furry, and the cutest little bra and shorts you ever did see, all in pink fur …’
‘Pink fur?’
‘Yep, that’s our team colours, pink and yellow.’
‘Pink and yellow? That sounds more appropriate for playing adult babies.’
He just laughed. I’d already guessed that the girls wouldn’t be playing in sensible sporting clothes, and I knew that the Tribeca Tails wore masks, but I hadn’t realised the full humiliating detail. He wasn’t finished either.
‘Their socks and tails are yellow,’ he said. ‘You’ll love the tails. Bunny tails, like the Playboy girls used to wear. God, I loved those outfits, and I always wanted to have some girls of my own dressed up just the same. Now I have.’
‘I can’t wait to get into my gear!’ Jemima announced.
‘Won’t be long, sweetie,’ he answered. ‘You can dress up just as soon as we get there, if you want?’
‘Oh, yes, please!’ Jemima confirmed, bouncing on her seat with enthusiasm.
Hudson chuckled and went on.
‘Twelve teams, and we’ve played a wild-card round to get down to eight, then through the first round, so now we’re on to the second round, which is the semi-finals. So far, the Liberty Belles, that’s the Philadelphia team, took down Staten Island Sugar sixty-two to sixty, a close call, but we beat ’em easy in the first round. Now we’re up against the Brooklyn Bitches, and they’re tough. Mel’s with them.’
‘I know, she told me. She seems to think they’ll beat you easily.’
‘Like hell they will!’ he said with a laugh. ‘Their coach is Morris’s old friend Buttman Bailey, who was doing porno when you were in diapers—’
‘A couple of months ago, wasn’t it, Penny?’ Jemima put in.
‘Very funny,’ I told her, ‘but I’ve heard it before.’
‘Buttman trains ’em hard,’ Hudson went on. ‘Practises every morning, and any girl who don’t get fifty per cent in the basket, why, she gets her ass smacked and a clip goes up on
their website for the world to see. That’s why they’re the best known team, and the most popular, but that don’t make ’em the best. Their colours are blue and white, from the Brooklyn flag, and they play in halter tops with cut-outs for their titties and the sweetest little skirts, no panties.’
He finished with a low whistle of appreciation, clearly still able to appreciate the thought of a girl in a short skirt and no knickers despite years of debauchery. I knew Melody was playing, but wondered if she knew exactly what she was letting herself in for, especially having a bare bottom spanking put up on the net if she didn’t come up to scratch in training.
‘That’s one semi,’ Hudson went on. ‘The other is the Queens against the Jersey Jezebels, who’ve had it easy so far, but aren’t a bad team. They came up through the playoffs, beating …’
He continued, reciting game statistics with the same enthusiasm he showed for kinky games, or possibly more. I switched off, staring out of the window at the passing buildings and wondering how to save Jemima from the consequences of her own folly. She was more determined than ever, with none of the misgivings I’d hoped for, and I’d already abandoned the idea of stopping her playing basketball. The videos were another matter, because there had to be at least a chance of getting her bottom smacked purple over the next few days.
I’d expected to cross the Brooklyn Bridge, and was disappointed when we descended into a tunnel in order to get under the river, but on the far side we were at last into what I thought of as New York, towering skyscrapers in the styles of every decade for the best part of a hundred years. As we turned a corner the Empire State Building itself towered above us.
Jemima was staring open-mouthed out of the window, but Hudson took no notice whatsoever, any more than I would have done passing Buckingham Palace. He’d been explaining tactics, and using so much jargon it was completely lost on me and very possibly on Jemima too, but then he switched to a topic that got my full attention.
‘… always recruitment problems,’ he was saying, ‘what with girls getting flaky on me or suddenly deciding they want to get paid. We’re fine and dandy right now, but it always pays to keep a few in reserve. I can count on you, can’t I, Penny, if it comes down to the wire?’