by Penny Birch
‘Next weekend, just the three days.’
‘Oh.’ I realised it was practical, as long as I cut Lydia off, but blushed at the thought of him seeing the welts on my bottom and having to explain myself. ‘Um . . . I’d need to rearrange my schedule.’
‘You’re coming then? Good.’
He’d decided for me, playing the dominant male, and I let it pass. After all, I could always change my mind, and the important thing was to get rid of him before Percy turned up. The street was full of cabs, any one of which might contain him, and I really did not want to have to introduce him as my uncle.
‘Yes, OK, thank you,’ I answered quickly, ‘but one condition, no talking shop.’
‘We’ll be attending several tastings, and—’
‘No, I mean about Hambling and Borse.’
‘Sure.’
‘Thank you. Anyway, I must hurry.’
‘Hang on, you don’t know where to meet up or anything.’
‘I’ll call you.’
‘I’ll write it down for you, won’t take a second. Do you have an address book or something?’
He’d already produced a pen, and I began to burrow in my bag for something to write on, simultaneously holding the roses under one arm. Inevitably I dropped them, just as a deep red cab pulled up beside us and disgorged Percy on to the pavement. He bowled over to us, as round and red and fat as ever. I struggled over what to say, determined not to introduce the word uncle into the conversation, but Earle Hayes did it for me, greeting Percy with a beaming smile and an extended hand.
‘Mr Ottershaw, isn’t it? Why, I had no idea you were little Natasha’s uncle.’
I caught the flicker of surprise on Percy’s face, briefly followed by annoyance before he recovered himself.
‘Mr Hayes, good afternoon, ‘he said, accepting the other’s offered hand. ‘Natasha, my niece . . . yes, yes.’
‘Wonderful girl.’
‘Not altogether,’ Percy said with a laugh. ‘In fact, I still have to spank her occasionally.’
I dropped the roses again, and my handbag, spilling the contents all over the pavement, my face blazing crimson. Earle Hayes was completely taken aback and managed a sort of strangled gurgle that might have been a laugh, but Percy continued as if he’d merely remarked on the weather.
‘Yes, and I recommend you do the same, should you feel it necessary. I read your article on the use of new oak for Chablis, by the way. I’m glad to see you don’t advocate . . .’
They began to discuss the article, leaving me scrabbling about on the pavement with my face red and my chest flushed. Only by keeping my knees tightly together could I be sure I wasn’t giving the entire street a flash of pussy, which made it more awkward still, although after a moment both men bent down to help me, Percy giving me a friendly pat on my head as he reached to retrieve an errant lipstick. The colour of his nose, redder even than usual, indicated that he’d had a drink or two already. Otherwise, I was sure, even he wouldn’t have dared say anything so outrageous. But he had, filling me with an overwhelming embarrassment made worse because it was all my fault, especially as I should have known they’d have met each other.
Even after I’d got everything together they carried on talking for a while, while I stood there blushing and fidgeting. Only when they’d exhausted the topic of whether or not Chablis should be aged in oak did Earle Hayes go away, kissing me on the cheek and shaking Percy’s hand. As he climbed into a cab, Percy’s expression changed from beaming to enquiring.
‘Your uncle?’
‘Yes, well . . . but . . .,’ I stammered, ‘you . . . you didn’t have to say you spanked me!’
He merely laughed, stepping up behind me as I struggled to get my key into the lock. I was painfully aware of the target my bottom presented beneath my skirt, and sure he’d smack me where everybody could see, but he waited until we were indoors before placing one podgy hand under my cheeks to steer me upstairs.
‘No knickers?’ he remarked.
‘No,’ I admitted.
‘So how did you come to lose them? Or have you taken to going bare?’
‘Somebody pinched them, one of those old bastards at the Aviators Club. I suppose you know them too?’
‘One or two, although I’m not a member myself. You imply that somebody other than Gilbert and Otto has been at you?’
‘Yes, their friends at the club, fifteen of them in all.’
‘What was it, a little striptease? A spanking?’
‘A spanking. They passed me around, and gave me the cane, and . . . and made me suck them off, all of them, in a broom cupboard.’
‘You must tell me about it, everything.’
I didn’t answer, thick with humiliation at my own words as much as at what he’d done to me in the street. My face was still burning, my resentment very real, but there was nothing I could do to fight down my arousal. Percy knew exactly the state I was in, chuckling merrily to himself as he followed me up the stairs and into my flat. I didn’t wait to be asked, but tugged up my skirt the instant the door was safely shut, showing off my smacked and welted bottom.
‘A neatly delivered caning,’ he remarked, peering close to inspect my hurt flesh. ‘Gilbert?’
‘The commissionaire, a man called Stubbs.’
‘A good man with a cane, this Stubbs. Hmm . . . I had meant to spank you for your impertinence just now, but there are other ways to punish a girl, and for now I suspect that a little cream would do you good.’
‘Yes, please.’
He went into the bathroom and I busied myself putting the roses in water, returning to the living room to find him seated at the table, on which was a box of tissues and my moisturising cream. My skirt was still up, and I simply put the vase down on the table, shrugged off my jacket and laid myself down across his lap, my bare bottom lifted for his attention. He begun to rub the cream into my cheeks, making gentle circular motions on my hot skin. I relaxed, yielding to his caresses without thought for my dignity, something I can only really do with Percy. Any other man, and I remain very much aware of what I’m showing, of the humiliation of my surrender to intimate, loitering touches; of my exposure, my punishment, my penetration, however much it turns me on.
As his fingers began to move down between my cheeks I simply spread my knees a little way apart, offering him what I knew he wanted. Sure enough, one creamy finger was soon tickling my anus to make the little fleshy ring open and squeeze. I closed my eyes in bliss as a short, fat finger was inserted gently but firmly into my rectum, thinking of how I must look, bare-bottom over a dirty old man’s lap, my cheeks marked with welts and glossy with cream, my pussy flaunted, his finger stuck well in up my anus. To most women my age it would have been unthinkable, incomprehensible, a grotesque molestation so inappropriate that they wouldn’t even be able to accept that it was possible without coercion, never mind enjoyable. To me, that was part of the pleasure, as was the feel of Percy’s cock stiffening against my side and the knowledge of where it would be going.
‘You’re going to bugger me, aren’t you?’
‘Eventually.’
‘Good.’
He gave the soft, dirty chuckle I’d grown to know so well. I pushed my bottom up against his hand and gave him an encouraging wiggle, for which I got a gentle smack on each cheek.
‘Have patience,’ he told me. ‘Now, you were saying that Gilbert and his fiends put you in a broom cupboard and made you perform fellatio on them. All of them?’
‘All fifteen. I ended up with so much spunk in my tummy I felt sick.’
‘Dirty girl.’
‘Stubbs the commissionaire was the worst. He was the one who gave me the cane . . . and he made me lick and suck his balls . . . and his bottom. He made me lick his arse, Percy . . . he forced me to lick his arse.’
‘A likely story.’
‘He did!’
‘Oh, I’m quite sure you licked his anus, but I know you too well to believe that he forced you. Now how about Ea
rle Hayes? John Thurston told me you’d gone off with him after the Corkscrew tasting, so I suspect he’s had your knickers down too, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes, but . . . but he hasn’t spanked me. He just likes rough sex, and to fuck my titties.’
‘And very fuckable they are too, but how can any man who gets his hands on you not spank you? I wouldn’t have thought it humanly possible to resist your behind.’
Even as he spoke he’d begun to do it, spanking me gently with one hand as he nuzzled the other between my cheeks, his finger as far up my now sloppy hole as it would go.
‘Not everybody’s a pervert like you,’ I told him, ‘and . . . and it wasn’t fair to tell him you spank me, especially when he thinks you’re my uncle!’
He laughed, but also began to spank harder, making my welts twinge with pain.
‘Ow! Percy!’
‘Up you get, then.’
He didn’t bother to extract his finger from my bumhole but helped me to my feet with it still stuck well in, and positioned me on his lap with my penetrated bottom stuck out over his leg as if I was trying to go to the loo outdoors. My pussy was against his leg, wet and sensitive, tempting me to rub myself off while he fingered my bum.
‘Hands on your head,’ he instructed, apparently reading my mind.
I obeyed, bum and boobs thrust out back and front as he continued to handle me, now tweaking open the buttons of my blouse until he could tug it wide across my breasts. Two quick motions and the cups of my bra had been flipped up, spilling out my boobs, which he began to caress. I wanted to get his cock out, but he was in no hurry, exploring my body until I was wriggling with pleasure and moaning too. Only then did he leave my breasts alone, to quickly tug down his fly and free the small pink spike of his erection into one hand.
‘Pop yourself on,’ he ordered. ‘Up your bum.’
He didn’t need to tell me. Even as he eased his finger from my hole I was twisting around and reaching down, to stick my bum out into his lap and guide his erection to my gaping anus. I was nicely ready and he slid up without difficulty until the full length of his cock was wedged up inside my rectum and my empty cunt was pressed to his oversized balls. His hand went to my mouth, offering me the finger he’d used to open my bottom for buggering. I opened up obediently, sucking away like a good little slut as I wriggled against him.
‘Good girl,’ he told me. ‘You may come if you wish.’
I nodded urgently, eager to play, although I knew he only wanted me to reach orgasm so that he could feel my bumhole in contraction on his cock. That knowledge just made it all the nicer and, as he pulled his finger from my mouth to cup my breasts, I was already squirming against him. I could feel the soreness of my bottom from my beating, his podgy fingers groping my boobs, the stiff little rod of his cock in my rectum, his leathery scrotum against my cunt. My hands went to the back of my head, for the sheer pleasure of being an obedient little tart. I didn’t need them, anyway; I could easily get myself there on the pleasure of being buggered . . . molested and buggered . . . stripped and molested and buggered . . . stripped and spanked and molested and buggered.
With that thought I came, wriggling my bottom urgently against his great fat balls as I squirmed and bounced in his lap, revelling in the feel of his hands on my breasts and his cock up my bottom hole, thinking of all the things he’d done to me, including embarrassing me in front of Earle Hayes. It was too much for him and he also came, jamming himself deep as my pulsing bumhole sucked up his spunk. At the thought of him coming in my rectum I hit another peak, the last before I let myself go slowly limp in his arms.
He was puffing with effort, but managed to find his voice as I lifted myself carefully off his cock.
‘Bend over the table, Natasha.’
I glanced back, curious, but obeyed, aware that my position showed everything, including the spunk bubbling out of my still open bumhole and down over my cunt. Not that it mattered, not in front of Percy, but I was hoping he hadn’t decided to beat me again.
He had something else in mind, less painful but even ruder. He extracted a rose from the vase, carefully removed the thorns and inserted the stem up my bottom. A second followed, and a third, before he was satisfied.
‘That,’ he informed me, ‘is for telling Earle Hayes that I am your uncle. You will remain as you are until dinner is ready.’
I made a face, imagining what Earle Hayes would have thought if he could have seen me with three of his roses stuck up my bottom, and how I’d look. Generally Percy let me do as I pleased, but occasionally he liked to remind me that when it came to men he was in charge.
At least, he was in charge when it came to sex, some of the time anyway. When it really comes down to it I admit to no master, and to no mistress either. That was something Lydia obviously didn’t accept, because she called me the next morning before I’d even finished my coffee, demanding a meeting. I was only half awake and told her to call again at a more civilised hour, but she wouldn’t give in and I ended up agreeing to meet her for tea at Fortnum’s, knowing the restaurant didn’t open until noon. The previous afternoon she’d seemed happy enough to wait until the weekend, so she was presumably under pressure from her boss to force a decision.
I went into the office first, where I was made to drop my panties for Gilbert and Otto to inspect my bottom, which inevitably left me feeling vulnerable and rude. With a couple of hours to spare I made another inspection of the cellar, checking what was actually there against what was on the stock lists. So far as I could judge, whoever had put everything on to the computer had simply ignored all the smaller bins, regardless of their worth or how rare they were. There were also one or two curious misspellings and the entries conformed to the labels rather than the official classification, all of which suggested that the work had been done by somebody with more business sense than knowledge of wine, so definitely not Gilbert or Otto.
A carefully phrased question to the secretary revealed that she’d hired temps to do the donkey work, a fact I was pondering as I walked up to Fortnum’s. Lydia hadn’t known about the opening hours and was waiting in the food hall, studying a display of pumpkins and wearing a slightly cross expression. She got straight down to business.
‘Tasha. Good. You’re going to make a decision today, and you’re going to make the right decision.’
I didn’t answer, but followed as she clip-clopped across to the lift, where a uniformed commissionaire who looked very like the wicked Stubbs ushered us politely in. As we ascended Lydia continued to talk, waving bits of paper at me as she did so. The restaurant had just opened, and I ordered afternoon tea as Lydia waited impatiently with her documents spread out on the table.
‘This is the deal,’ she told me the moment I was ready to listen. ‘You get your bosses’ signature on this agreement and you get two per cent of what’s left after the debts have been paid off.’
‘The debts are quite large,’ I pointed out.
‘We have offers for the name alone that will cover the debts.’
‘Just for the company name?’
‘That’s right. It’ll be a lot of money, Natasha, more than you’ll see in ten years working for those two old farts.’
I nodded thoughtfully. She pushed the document towards me. I picked it up and began to read, although it wasn’t really necessary. From what I knew of Gilbert and Otto they would rather end up on the street than sell out to Orpheus Asset Management, while for me to accept the bribe would be a betrayal not only of them but of Percy as well. Lydia spoke up again before I was half-way through, her voice demanding and impatient.
‘You have until the end of the week to get their signatures. Otherwise your share goes down to one and a half per cent.’
‘I’ve already told you I can’t rush them,’ I protested.
‘I’m sure you can if you try hard enough.’
‘Look, seriously, not going to be easy. I need at least a month.’
‘Rubbish. Use your body, Natasha. Take one o
f the old bastards to bed, or better still both of them. Once you can withhold their shags you’ll be able to get them to sign their own death warrants.’
I made a face.
‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Tasha, I know what you’re like, remember? They won’t be the first dirty old men to have you, will they?’
She wasn’t exactly keeping her voice down and I found myself blushing. I was also struggling not to smile, because she simply didn’t understand the way I am; Lydia’s incapable of seeing anybody except in her own terms. Biting my lip, I pushed the document back across the table.
‘Three per cent, I’m allowed one month’s grace, and I receive a goodwill payment on signature of . . . shall we say, ten thousand pounds?’
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Take it or leave it.’
‘Don’t be silly, Natasha, you know it’s a good deal and I don’t have the authority to change it anyway.’
‘Let me speak to somebody who has, then.’
Her eyes flashed fire and for a moment I thought she was going to threaten me. It was obviously important to her to make me sign without having to go to her boss, perhaps because she was at risk of losing out on commission, perhaps simply because to pass me up the ladder would damage her reputation as an evil little bitch who got what she wanted. I couldn’t resist teasing, and leant across the table, speaking softly.
‘What are you going to do about it, Lydia? Spank me? Go on, I dare you. I won’t even put up a fight. Spank me, right here in front of all these people . . . knickers down . . . bare bottom. I’ll love it, but you, Lydia, will get arrested.’
‘Do try and be serious, Natasha,’ she snapped. ‘Look, I—’
‘Take it or leave it, Lydia.’
She began to speak again, then made an angry face and started to gather her papers. For a moment I thought she was going to call my bluff, and I very nearly backed down, but then she spoke again.
‘Very well. I’ll put the proposal to the partners this afternoon. I’ll meet you in Cirano’s, seven o’clock sharp.’