The Choice

by Monica Belle

  ‘No, Violet, not like that!’

  She just laughed and carried on, knowing full well what she was doing to me. I was lost to her, on a glorious sexual high for all my utterly humiliating situation, with every slap to my cheeks pushing me closer to orgasm, until I was sure I was going to come and could manage no more than a muffled sob as Violet changed her grip, still spanking me as she began to rub at my sex. I’d given in, my thighs spread to James, who had come into the room, my hips bucking up and down to the smacks and to the motion of Violet’s fingers, utterly abandoned as she brought me to one of the longest, hardest orgasms of my entire life.

  I was left sobbing and limp over her knee, then in her arms as she took me in, cuddling me and stroking my hair, kissing me as I clung trembling to her body.

  At last she let go, to whisper quietly in my ear. ‘It would be kind to let James do you. Nod if it’s OK.’

  I made a face, but nodded, unable to deny her wish.

  Violet left me. ‘Your turn, James.’

  He smiled, calm and full of easy authority as he looked down on me. I stayed as I was, kneeling on the floor and took a moment to rub at my hot bottom cheeks while he got ready for me. For all my moment of ecstasy I felt very small and very sorry for myself as I crawled over his knee and into spanking position once more, but they had me completely and I didn’t want it to stop, even if it meant I had to say thank you by taking his cock in my mouth.

  My stomach jumped as his hand touched my bottom, a man’s hand this time, a lot bigger, and I was sure he’d spank harder, but it was knowing who it was that really mattered, and, as my spanking began, an awful thought came to me – that it was my natural place. With that I burst into tears, not of sorrow or pain, but because I felt perfectly cared for, naked and hot behind over a man’s lap, my bottom bouncing to hard purposeful slaps, and yet exactly where I belonged.

  Violet spoke quietly. ‘Don’t stop. I think she needs to cry.’

  I nodded, letting it all out as James attended to my bottom, the smacks now firm and regular. As it was done I was babbling apologies for peeping at them, and not realising how badly I needed punishment, and all sorts of things that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. They let me be, James never once letting up as his hand rose and fell over my now aching bottom, until finally my tears had stopped and I’d gone limp in his grip.

  ‘There, that’s enough, I think.’

  Violet ducked down to hug me, kissing my tear-stained face as I climbed off James’ lap. I kissed her back, shaking uncontrollably as she helped me down to kneel beside her.

  ‘Um …’

  I knew what she meant, and I nodded. She didn’t hesitate, but quickly peeled down James’ fly, releasing his already stiff cock and a pair of heavy balls. I’d been able to feel him against my leg during my spanking, and I’d been pretty sure where it was going, Violet’s mouth or mine, maybe both. He wanted both, and there was no resistance in me as we crawled in between his open thighs, to lick and kiss and suck at his erection and at his balls, to thank him for the way he treated us until he had come and we had shared what he had to give.

  For all my imaginings and fantasies I had never expected to go so far, least of all on the very first day of my stay, but I was glad I had.

  I knew perfectly well that Violet and James had planned to seduce me from the start, both into sex and taking a spanking. It even seemed possible that they’d planned the entire scenario, from the moment I’d met Violet on the beach onwards, but it had been the right thing to do. For the next seven days I existed in a state of unbounded bliss, and it would have been a terrible shame to miss so much as an hour. I’d discovered something within myself that I’d never known existed, although with hindsight I realised that I’d always enjoyed being under the control of a strong man when it came to sex.

  We let ourselves go completely, Violet and I, seldom bothering to dress and spending most of every day with our bottoms red. The only times I even bothered to put on knickers was for the pleasure of having them pulled down, something I quickly came to adore. James was no less inhibited, frequently naked, and I quickly came to appreciate his firm but slender body, which might have been nothing like as muscular as Stephen’s, but was no less masculine for that.

  At first I was careful of Violet’s feelings, aware that they were not only together, but that he had sacrificed his career for her, albeit accidentally, and that they needed each other in a way I’d only just begun to understand. Only gradually did I come to accept that the bond between them was different to anything I had experienced before, and stronger. Violet delighted in sharing me with James, and the only thing that would have hurt her was if he and I had tried to exclude her in some way. He was more liberal still, happy to enjoy what we chose to give, or to stand back when we wanted to be together.

  I quickly came to accept that he could spank me when he felt I needed it, or simply for his amusement, which helped to keep me in a state of permanent mild arousal that would be brought to a peak three or four times each day. In return we would kneel at his feet and worship his cock together, bringing him to orgasm in our mouths, or he would take Violet in front of me. The only thing he wouldn’t do was fuck me, but as the days passed I was growing ever more needy.

  There was one other thing I wanted before I went home, to be birched, and hard. When I told them, on my second from last day, Violet simply untied the ribbon from her hair and passed it to me. I knew exactly what to do, the ritual as clear in my mind as if I’d been made to do it a hundred times. All I had on were my espadrilles and a pair of shorts, so I threw a top on and put my hair up in a pony-tail.

  The weather had grown a little cooler, with a fresh breeze blowing from the west to make the grass whisper along the cliff tops, a great open space beneath a clear blue sky. Most of the land was open fields, separated by low hedges if at all, but there was the occasional clump of trees standing around buildings, with birch among them.

  I walked far out along the cliff top, enjoying my slowly rising sense of apprehension and half hoping that somebody would see me as I walked back with the finished birch in my hand and guess my fate. Only when I reached a site that I simply could not fault did I stop. A huge concrete blockhouse had been built into a hollow, some relic of war no doubt and now overgrown with bramble and bracken and thorn, and birch.

  Standing on the edge of the slope I could easily reach the fresh young twigs, although it meant I was visible to anybody coming along the track. That I didn’t mind, eager for any passers-by to see and to know that I was preparing a birch for my own punishment. It was a wonderful thought, keeping me constantly on edge as I plucked twig after twig, imagining not just being seen, but also being birched in public, naked and wriggling under the pain of the twigs as James dealt with me in front of a couple of dozen Frenchmen, every one of them delighted to see me getting what I deserved.

  When I had enough twigs I pulled the ribbon from my hair and used it to bind them together into a bundle, one end tied tight to form a handle, the other loose to make the business end of the thing. Just to hold it was both frightening and intensely arousing, just as it had been beside the Isis the first time, only now there was one very important difference – I had a stern handsome man to use it on me.

  I turned back for the house, only to see two figures approaching along the track. For one brief moment I thought I was going to have to live out my fantasy of being seen, but it was just James and Violet, who quickly reached me.

  ‘We were beginning to worry about you, but I see you’re ready.’

  I nodded, offering her the birch, which she in turn made to pass to James. He ignored her, but glanced around the horizon, then into the overgrown dip between us and the wall of the blockhouse before speaking. ‘Come with me.’

  He began to walk around the structure, until he reached the side furthest from the sea, where a door opened into the grey concrete face, with rungs leading up to it and an iron handrail to either side.

  ‘Perfe
ct. Violet, give me the birch. Both of you, get down there.’

  Violet’s mouth came open in surprise. ‘Me?’

  ‘Both of you, I said.’

  I couldn’t help but smile at her sudden consternation, even though I would be getting it myself. She looked flustered, and hesitated before climbing down beside me. There was a wicked glitter in James’ eye as he again scanned the horizon.

  ‘I think we’re safe enough. Take a grip on the handrails.’

  I obeyed. Violet hesitated, looking sulky, but did as she was told, taking a firm grasp of the iron rail, setting her feet a little apart and pulling her back in to make her bottom available. I got into the same rude position, our legs overlapped, our hips almost touching. James jumped down beside us and made sure of our exposure, rolling up the light dress that was all Violet had on, then pulling down my shorts and hauling my top up over my breasts to leave us both showing in front and behind.

  ‘Stay as you are.’

  He climbed back up the bank, and disappeared, leaving us to share a worried glance at the thought of some French farmer catching us naked. Yet we both held our pose and James was soon back, one hand clutching a bunch of tattered pink bailing twine. Violet gave a weak sob as she realised we were to be tied, and the fluttering in my stomach grew abruptly stronger at the thought of being truly helpless under the whip.

  I hung my head, showing my acceptance of his right to do with me as he pleased. First our hands were lashed to the rail, leaving us unable to get away or protect ourselves, then our legs were tied together at the knee, forcing us to keep them set apart with our bottoms flaunted and vulnerable. I’d never felt so exposed, nor so helpless, tied up and near naked to a man with a birch whip in his hand and a tell-tale bulge already growing at his crotch.

  He watched us for a while, no doubt enjoying the view, until I’d begun to wriggle with apprehension, then he spoke. ‘Two dozen strokes each.’

  My muscles twitched at his words and I swallowed the huge lump which had been growing in my throat. I’d wanted it, I still did, but that did nothing to lessen my fear and the awful consternation as he got down behind us, whisking the birch through the air, before brushing it across our out-thrust bottoms, then bringing it down hard across mine.

  I screamed, unable to stop myself under the sensation, like a thousand hot pin pricks all at once, and I was wriggling in my bonds, close to panic as Violet was given her first stroke. She was no braver, crying out just as I had done and pulling against my leg. I was genuinely frightened as he lifted the birch once more and, just as Violet had predicted, wondering how I could ever have been mad enough to put myself into such an appalling situation.

  The birch struck again and I was jumping up and down on my toes and begging for mercy, all dignity gone under the pain of my whipping. Another stroke to Violet’s rear and she was in the same sorry condition, wiggling her bottom in a crazy, pointless dance and pleading for him to slow down. James ignored us, but set up a steady rhythm with the birch, landing stroke after stroke across our wiggling, twitching bottoms. At first I couldn’t take it at all, but there was nothing I could do but squirm and squeal and pray I’d soon be pushed over the boundary.

  I’d lost count of the strokes when it hit me, a strange warmth, a need to have my breasts and sex touched, and suddenly I was pushing my bottom out to the strokes, no longer hateful but what I needed more than anything else in the whole world. James saw and obliged, bringing the birch down harder than before, and faster, turn and turn about. Violet had already broken, begging him to whip her harder and gasping with need, her bottom thrust out to the strokes beside mine. One touch and I felt I would come, but suddenly it had stopped and I was left panting and shivering in my bonds.

  James threw the birch aside and tugged down his zip, freeing his cock and balls into the sunlight. I needed entry, badly, and held my pose, knowing he could see I was ready. Violet got it first, moaning as she was entered, but after a few firm thrusts he had withdrawn. Now was my time, my sex open to James McLean’s erect cock, and I had never wanted a man so badly.

  I felt him touch my hips, that alone enough to make me moan. One finger traced a line across my whipped bottom, making my hurt skin tingle and sting. I cried out as his cock touched between my cheeks, and again as I was filled, a moment of pure ecstasy. Five times he pushed into me, short hard thrusts, before he pulled out to leave me sobbing with need as Violet was entered in turn.

  He was very fair with us, but very cruel, giving us a few thrusts each before going back, while with our hands tied there was nothing we could do, either to make him pay more attention to us or to bring ourselves off. I thought I was going to go mad when he began to give Violet his full attention, but he was soon done, fucking her hard before touching her in some way that brought her to a screaming, shuddering orgasm.

  I soon found out what he’d done as his cock was transferred to my sex, slid deep as he took me by the hips and began to pump into me until I was open mouthed and gasping with ecstasy, only for his cock to be withdrawn and pressed firmly between the lips of my sex. As he began to rub I realised he had brought her to orgasm on the head of his cock and was going to do the same to me.

  With that everything came together; the way I’d been sent to make the birch for my own whipping, how he made me pose and stripped my bottom and breasts and sex to the open air, how he tied me to leave me exposed and helpless beside my friend, how he’d whipped me into a frenzy, how he’d teased me with his lovely cock, and how he’d fucked us both and made us come.

  They must have heard my screams back in Oxford. I couldn’t stop, and he wouldn’t. If he hadn’t had a firm grip on me I’d have pulled away, because I felt unbearably sensitive and the whole thing was just too much. He knew how to handle me though, keeping me firmly in place and rubbing until at last my muscles went limp and my screams and cries had turned to sobs.

  He still hadn’t come, seeing to our pleasure first despite being able to do just as he pleased. I was dizzy with reaction, half slumped in my bonds, and Violet was no better, but still I would have surrendered myself in any way he pleased, or done anything he asked once I was untied, for all my exhaustion. Instead he took pity on us, or maybe it was simply that he could no longer hold back, sprinkling our bottoms with hot droplets as he took his pleasure over the sight of what he’d done to us.

  After that there were no barriers between us at all. That night the three of us slept together, and in morning he took turns with us again. We stayed in bed for hours, completely lost in each other, before going down to the beach for a final swim. At lunch I found myself unable to shake the deep sense of melancholy that had begun to creep up on me. My flight was late afternoon, and they were leaving the next day, but I was wishing we could stay forever and clung on to each of them in turn until my taxi driver had begun to grow impatient.

  It should have been raining, to suit my mood, but I was driven back to Cherbourg in brilliant sunshine. As the plane climbed over the Contentin I was able to make out the house, with James and Violet tiny specks on the beach and kept my head turned until I could no longer see them, or the coast, something I hadn’t done since I was a child.

  13

  THE THREE OF us had already discussed our relationship, and while none of us was prepared to abandon what we’d found we all realised that things couldn’t be the same. Violet and I would have to wear some clothes occasionally, for one thing, and I couldn’t risk anybody finding out that I had become part of a ménage à trois with a notorious flagellant ex-don and his equally outrageous lover.

  That didn’t mean we couldn’t see each other, especially Violet and I, or visit James’ house, but I would have liked both she and I to move in, which was impossible. I still cycled out to the house on the Eynsham Road the very day I got back, for a brief but passionate reunion, and yet I still felt inhibited and dissatisfied. I was also unsure about Stephen, as my feelings for him had waned just as those for James and Violet had grown, but he was so glad to se
e me again and so eager to get me into bed that I gave in without so much as mentioning his failure to say goodbye properly the previous term.

  After that, things simply picked up where they’d left off, only busier than ever. I had plenty to do as Recorder at the Chamber, while Dr Etheridge made it plain at my first tutorial of the term that he expected me to keep my work up to standard, while with Eights Week later in the term I had to spend nearly all of what little time I had left over on the river. I was doing well, and was determined not to lose ground, so I put everything I had into it, often leaving me so exhausted that it was all I could do to crawl into bed when I finally got back from the Chamber, finished an essay or came in from a boat-club meeting.

  Violet was full of sympathy and determined to look after me, chiding me for overdoing it and even threatening me with a spanking. There was nothing I wanted more, and she began to take me in hand each evening, just gently, with me naked over her lap after my shower or with my knickers pulled down, but always bare. When she did it I could feel the tension draining out of my body with each and every smack, until it became more important to me than coffee, drink or conventional sex. As she had pointed out, it was addictive, and I was rapidly becoming hooked. I didn’t care, telling myself that a hot bottom did me no harm whatsoever, unlike caffeine and alcohol.

  Only at weekends did I manage to get away completely, and James’ house quickly became a sanctuary, the only place where I could really relax, although even there my head was always full of the things I knew I’d have to do over the coming days, weeks and months. I couldn’t be birched either, which would have done me a lot of good, what with having to change for rowing in front of my team-mates nearly every afternoon and because Stephen would see.

  I had thought about telling Stephen, but I wasn’t completely sure how he’d take it and couldn’t bear the thought of rejection. Nevertheless, I was getting to the point at which sex without spanking could no longer satisfy me and knew that if our relationship was to work I would have to bring it up. It seemed little enough to ask, when he was forever filling my head with disturbing thoughts of Thai ladyboys and Giles Lancaster, but I simply couldn’t bring myself to ask for it straight out.