by Penny Birch
‘Five grand! In what, just over an hour? It takes me nearly six months to earn that.’
She had me completely off guard, and I very nearly pointed out that I could arrange another bukkake party for her with Mr Zhang before I stopped myself, realising that however much she admired me it was something she could never bring herself to do. Instead I shrugged and waved my hands in a meaningless gesture as I struggled for something to say. Her next question caught me by surprise.
‘Do you really like men?’
I knew the answer to that, not the truth, necessarily, but the only sensible thing to say.
‘Not as much as I like girls, especially the girl who’s standing in front of me now.’
She smiled and blushed. I held out my hand, she took it and as we began to walk all my bad feelings vanished, to be replaced by a glow of triumph. I’d dealt with Lydia, I’d dealt with Anton Yoshida and I was holding hands with Rhiannon. The only flaw was that I had just a few hours before I had to be in St James’s, not nearly enough time to do justice to her, and my aching jaw and the raw feeling in my tummy weren’t going to help. I really needed to rest, but it was my only chance.
‘I hope you’re not working this afternoon?’ I asked.
‘No. That was a special booking. My contract’s finished.’
‘Contract?’
‘I was on a three-month contract with Southern and Allied Food Products. Mr Yoshida said you’d lost your job. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not like that. Like you, I was on a short-term contract, that’s all. In fact, there’s a leaving party of sorts this evening. I’d much rather be with you, but as it’s for me I really have to go.’
‘Oh. Maybe we could meet up afterwards? Or could I come along?’
‘Er . . .’ I stopped, embarrassed. ‘. . . um, the thing is, it’s a bit like the other . . . what just happened. They expect to spank me, you see, as, um . . . a sort of going-away thing.’
I was blushing hot, which was ridiculous when she’d just watched me strip and get bukkake from forty-six businessmen. She giggled.
‘You’re terrible, Natasha! And are you going dressed like that?’
‘I was going to change. This is much too overt for their taste. They’d rather I was in my business suit or, better still, school uniform. You know what dirty old men are like.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Well, if you come with me you’ll find out!’
She fell silent for a while, leaving me once more conscious of my appearance and the way people were looking at us, or rather at me. My mood had changed, and had it not been for the cold November wind I’d have been tempted to flash my tits at the more intrusive of them, particularly an elderly woman with a miniature poodle who looked at me as if I’d just risen from hell.
As we reached Berkeley Square Rhiannon suddenly began to talk again, her words tumbling out so fast that with her accent I could barely understand what she was saying.
‘You’d have hated my life, Natasha and that’s the truth. I’ve been so shut up, always shut up, in convents and at home, with everybody always on my case telling me I have to be pure and I have to be good or else I’ll go to hell, or get raped because every man always wants to fuck and doesn’t care, and I don’t want to be like that, Natasha. I want to be free. That’s why I went to Paris and signed up with the agency, just to get away, but I can’t, not in my head, not yet, but maybe with you, if you’d help me? I . . . I’d quite like to watch.’
I squeezed her hand, taken aback by her sudden explosion of emotion, because I could tell that she was close to tears. She’d always seemed vulnerable but now more so than ever, and younger.
‘How old are you, Rhiannon, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Eighteen.’
A year less and she’d have been close to half my age. I felt a sudden pang of guilt for what I wanted to do to her, but it didn’t last long. She wanted it, and if she was ever to enjoy her sex life, she needed it. Besides, if I didn’t take her she would no doubt succumb to some fumbling oaf or smooth-talking bastard, so it was really for the best.
‘OK,’ I told her, ‘you can come, and I promise I’ll look after you.’
Twelve
RHIANNON AND I spent the rest of the afternoon clothes-shopping, partly because I was going to need some things until Percy could send on my luggage and partly to get kitted up for the evening. Gilbert, Otto and company had only ever seen me in a smart business suit, and while that seemed to appeal I was definitely due for a change.
After first buying a pair of cheap jeans, a baggy top and a jumper so that I wouldn’t freeze to death, we began to try options. I considered a nurse’s uniform in one of the medical supply shops off Harley Street, a fully correct bottle-green school outfit in Selfridges and red, white and blue cheerleader’s gear in the American Boutique in Carnaby Street. None of them were right, but it was fun trying them on, especially as Rhiannon grew gradually bolder after watching me dress and undress so many times. I took the opportunity to have a snog and a squeeze in the American Boutique, after which she told me that whatever outfit I chose she would dress to match.
What we eventually chose was sheer mischief, and better designed to earn me a spanking than the shortest of skirts or the tightest of panties. Selecting a gent’s outfitters just on the wrong side of Regent Street, we converted ourselves into parodies of the men themselves. First came male briefs, the smallest size they had available, which clung to our bottoms but bagged at the front, then white shirts and silk waistcoats to accentuate our breasts, particularly mine, which looked as if they were doing their best to burst free. Sensible brogues and diamond-pattern socks served for our feet, while the herringbone twill suits we selected might very well have come from the wardrobe of the Right Honourable Vernon Flyght himself, except that they were several sizes too small. They also had the effect of showing off the roundness of our bottoms, which peeped out from beneath the hems of our jackets in a way I knew Percy for one would find irresistible, as he would the implied mockery of our style.
The shop assistant certainly thought so, his manner remaining frigid despite my liberal dispensations of cash. I paid for Rhiannon, as each outfit cost several hundred pounds, and that put her in an ecstasy of gratitude as we walked south. By then I no longer felt even remotely guilty about my decision to have her. It was what she wanted, and it was what she was going to get.
We were still half an hour early, so we stopped at a bar for a couple of large gin and tonics. I was sure Rhiannon needed a drink and I certainly did, because for all my careful planning there were a dozen things that could go wrong. First was having the right man on the door, and I relieved to see Stubbs standing there in full uniform, right down to the sergeant’s stripes on the sleeves of his crimson jacket. I gave him a smile and a surreptitious squeeze of his crotch, to which he returned a knowing wink.
Second was the location. I’d suggested the tasting room on the first floor, the largest in the building, because although it looked out over St James’s there were heavy shutters that could be closed to ensure absolute privacy. They’d taken my advice, adding to the atmosphere by having only the central chandelier lit, while each of the tables placed against the walls supported a large, polished brass candelabrum with deep-red candles. Most of the men were already there, Gilbert with a glass of Champagne in his hand at the door. He greeted me with a smile that changed to an enquiring look as he took in my outfit and my companion.
‘Rhiannon, this is Gilbert Hambling, my ex-boss,’ I explained. ‘Gilbert, this is Rhiannon, who has volunteered to pass the drinks around this evening.’
‘Delighted, I’m sure,’ Gilbert responded.
‘She’s very experienced,’ I assured him, ‘so you can leave everything to her, but she’s not to be touched, except, just possibly, by me.’
His great bushy eyebrows rose a fraction and I gave him my cheekiest smile before moving further into the room. Otto was there, and Vernon, along with most of
the men who’d enjoyed me at the Aviators. I now knew all of them by name, but I remembered them from the way they’d behaved at that first encounter: the cold one, the one who liked girls to put up a fight, the one who’d pulled my boobs out. Now it was time for another round, and in front of Rhiannon, and I was filled with nervous excitement as I accepted their compliments and congratulations, as well as several remarks on my choice of costume and what the consequences were likely to be. I accepted it all, trying not to keep looking at the clock above the door as they gradually assembled, with Percy turning up last of all.
‘Shall we begin, then?’ Gilbert suggested.
There was general agreement, and I stepped out into the middle of the room, where the traditional single chair had been placed at the centre of the carpet.
‘OK, boys, who’s first?’ I asked.
Vernon gave a polite gesture towards Gilbert, who in turn cocked an eyebrow at Percy.
‘No, no. I enjoy the privilege nightly,’ Percy insisted.
‘You’re too polite, you silly old buffers,’ I said with a laugh.
‘I’ll show you who’s an old buffer!’ a fat, silver-haired man wheezed, and he began to get to his feet.
‘That seems as good a way as any,’ I said. ‘We’ll do it by seniority, oldest first.’
‘Old I may be,’ the man said, advancing, ‘but not too old to take a saucy little brat like you to task, Natasha.’
He sat down, making a lap for me to climb over. I undid my fly buttons to make it easier for him and draped myself across his knees, the tweed of my trousers now tauter than ever across my bottom. He turned my jacket tails up on to my back and began to fondle me, grunting softly to himself as he explored the shape and feel of my cheeks, apparently in no hurry whatsoever to actually spank me.
I closed my eyes, concentrating on the exquisite humiliation of my position, bum high over some dirty old bastard’s knee as he molested me in front of his friends and my own girlfriend. By the time he decided to get me stripped I was fighting the urge to let my thighs come apart, and I couldn’t repress a sigh as my trousers were tugged down to expose the white briefs beneath. He patted my bottom, traced one finger slowly down to push my pants into my crease, adjusted each leg hole to ensure that my cheeks were perfectly exhibited in their tight white cotton casing, spent a long moment simply admiring the view and at last took hold of my waistband.
My bottom was stripped, something I’ve always enjoyed, but this time it was pure bliss just to know that they were all watching, especially Rhiannon, as my briefs slid slowly down to expose my cheeks, full and bare for spanking. I’d deliberately pushed myself high to make my cheeks spread and let them all see the tight brown knot of my bumhole. He made a good job of me too, tucking my briefs right down to make sure I lost every last scrap of modesty.
‘Good heavens, it’s a girl!’ he remarked as my pussy came on show to the room.
Everybody laughed and my face flushed hot as I imagined what I was showing behind, every soft pink fold of my sex in plain view. At last he began to spank, just gently, calling me a saucy little minx as he smacked my bottom and pausing occasionally to touch me up. I couldn’t help but react, sighing and wriggling in my growing excitement as my cheeks grew slowly warmer and my pussy wetter.
By the time he’d finished I had completely surrendered. The next man made me put my hands on my head while he opened the front of my clothes, unbuttoning my shirt and waistcoat just far enough for him to lift my tits out and leave them dangling awkwardly and slapping together as I was spanked across his knee. The third put a finger in me and made me suck it, while the fourth made a point of inspecting my bottom slit and remarking on the brownish colour of my anal flesh. The fifth man spanked hard; he was the first who seemed to want to punish me rather than humiliate or take advantage of me. The sixth was Gilbert, and when he stepped up to the chair I saw that he was holding a small wooden box.
‘Something to keep you warm,’ he remarked in response to my curious gaze, then opened the box.
Inside was a small fruit knife, a wrapped pat of butter and a large piece of fresh root ginger. He was going to fig me.
‘Over you go, my dear,’ he instructed, sitting down.
I got into position, wondering how Rhiannon felt about girls having things put up their bottom holes as I braced my feet as far apart as my lowered clothes would permit and stuck my hips up. It was a thoroughly rude position, showing everything, and Gilbert took immediate advantage, squashing the pat of butter into my anus so that it began to melt, lubricating me as he carved the fig. I could feel the butter, moist and slippery as it pooled in my anus and trickled slowly down into my pussy hole and over my lips.
He took ages, with me holding my position all the while. I could see Rhiannon serving drinks and repeatedly glancing at my spread bottom. Her emotions were hard to read, and seemed to keep changing, but they were certainly strong, which made mine stronger in turn, and when the neatly carved plug of ginger root was finally inserted in my bumhole I was sobbing with shame. Thirty seconds later I was sobbing for a quite different reason as the heat in my penetrated bumhole grew to a powerful burn and Gilbert smacked my naked bottom to add to my woes.
I couldn’t hold myself still, but kicked, wriggled and squeezed my bum cheeks, to the delight of my audience. Gilbert took his time as well, not only adding to the already hot glow of my bum but taking my trousers and briefs down to my knees so that he could smack my thighs and make sure everybody behind me got a good view of the fig in my penetrated anus.
When he’d finally finished I felt dizzy and didn’t try to stand, but fell to my knees on the floor. The next man stepped up, and I was given a firm but rather short spanking and put back on the floor. Then Otto got to his feet. He too was holding something, and he spoke as he tucked me across his knee.
‘I also have a little surprise for you,’ he said, holding up a long, weather-beaten box. ‘Well, not so very little perhaps.’
He opened the box, causing a ripple of laughter and a few muttered remarks as he showed the others what it contained. I twisted around, eager to find out what was to be done to me and expecting a dog quirt or some equally painful and humiliating implement. What he had was an enormous thermometer, the old-fashioned kind with a glass bulb full of coloured alcohol and a long calibrated shaft. I knew exactly where it was going, up my bum, as it wouldn’t be the first time some pervert had inflicted his fetish for medical humiliation on me; but the horrible thing was at least four times the size of any I’d had used on me before.
‘It is’, he explained as he once more began to stroke my bottom, ‘a relic of the days when our deliveries were done by horse and cart, and is intended, as you may therefore have deduced, to measure the rectal temperature of a horse. However, no doubt it will do equally well when inserted between the cheeks of Natasha’s somewhat perter and prettier bottom.’
‘You’re a bastard, Otto,’ I muttered, but I hung my head in submission and braced my feet to lift my bottom back into full prominence.
His fingers delved between my bum cheeks to grip the base of my fig and extract it, leaving my bumhole open and slippery. Keeping my cheeks spread, he pushed the big, round thermometer bulb in without difficulty and lodged it well up my rectum. The fig went up my pussy, making me gasp and my eyes water as the heat built in my sex. Then he began to spank me, the thermometer waggling in my bottom hole at every slap. He only gave me a couple of dozen, then took hold of the thermometer and eased it free, once more leaving my bumhole gaping to the audience.
‘Normal,’ he remarked as he inspected it, ‘for a horse at least. For a human she is a little warm, but that is perhaps not surprising.’
He chuckled and went back to spanking me, only to pause so that he could place the thermometer on Rhiannon’s tray and ask her to wash it, which I found almost as shameful as having it stuck up my bottom. I couldn’t help lifting my head to watch the rotation of her cheeks beneath her boyish trousers as she left the room.<
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After Gilbert came Percy, who made me eat my fig and wouldn’t stop spanking until I’d swallowed every last bit, then Vernon, who made me run on the spot with my tits bouncing wildly and my bum jiggling, just long enough to make sure that Rhiannon had a good look when she came back into the room. He spanked me in nappy-changing position, rolled up on my back with my legs held up to ensure that every lewd detail of my sex was flaunted as he smacked my already fiery cheeks. After that they started to compete, each man doing his best to spread me out in some even ruder or more inventive position: bent down with my head jammed between one’s knees, with my thighs open across another’s knee to make my pussy rub on his trousers as he spanked me, thrown over a third’s shoulder like a flour sack, with my bum the highest part of my body.
As the men became more excited, again and again I’d have an erection rubbing against my body as I was reduced to a kicking, wriggling tantrum with my hair flying and tears streaming down my face. Several of them fingered me or had a rub of my pussy, but it was Stubbs who made me come, spanking me hard with one hand while the other cupped my pussy and masturbated me to a long, shame-filled orgasm that left me panting and sweaty on the floor, my bare red bottom stuck out to the room and the juice trickling slowly down one thigh.
Percy helped me up and Rhiannon pressed a glass of Champagne into my hand. I drank it at a gulp and took a second glass before pausing to rearrange myself. They’d all been thoroughly enjoying the show and were now talking animatedly among themselves, so I sat down to refresh myself and check that Rhiannon was OK. It had taken about an hour for me to be passed around: not quite as long as I’d liked, but we were far from finished. After my third glass of Champagne and a kiss for Rhiannon I stepped back to the centre of the room and raised my hands for silence, which I eventually got.
‘Gentlemen,’ I called out, ‘I have a special treat for you. If she agrees, and only if, I am going to spank Rhiannon in front of you. Rhiannon?’
She nodded and swallowed, shy but determined, which sent a sharp thrill of lust through me. I sat down on the chair, my own bottom hot and tender in my briefs. The men were turning their attention to us, their interest growing as I went on.