by Penny Birch
I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. The picture was just too vivid in my mind, of my own rude rear view over Mum’s lap, my bottom cheeks all red from spanking with my bumhole showing between, and my thighs pumping in my pulled-down knickers and frayed shorts with the lips of my pussy peeping out between, swollen and moist in the middle. I cried out in shame as my hips went up and my hand went back, raising my bottom to Penny’s hand as I found my sex. She began to spank harder, full across the cheeky swell of my bum, bringing my pleasure up with astonishing speed as I rubbed furiously at my clit.
‘Oh you little disgrace!’ she laughed. ‘Rubbing your cunt when you’re over my knee. Would you do the same, Jemima? Would you do it in front of your sister and your mother, playing with your dirty cunt because you’d had to have your bottom smacked? What an utter disgrace!’
She’d gone too far, but her words had got into my head and I couldn’t stop myself. As I started to work myself towards orgasm I was thinking how it would have been, not over Mum’s lap, but afterwards, if I’d rubbed myself off in the bathroom the way I had after Danielle dealt with me. Maybe I’d even have done it in front of Pippa, with her giggling crazily because I’d been turned on by a spanking from Mum. It was unbearably shameful, so shameful it was going to make me come while I was spanked, but as my climax built in my head Penny spoke again. ‘Kate would understand, Jemima. She knows what girls like you and I are like.’
‘No!’ I sobbed, but it was too late.
I’d started to come, and as my orgasm rose the picture in my head had changed. Pippa was still there, but watching solemnly as Mum held me in her arms, comforting me by stroking my hair and whispering in my ear with my bare red bottom showing behind and my fingers between my legs, fiddling with my wet and greedy cunt.
‘You bitch, Penny!’ I screamed and I was there, bucking up and down on her lap in an uncontrollable orgasm as she spanked with all the force of her arm and my fantasy took on one last, awful detail: of Mum lifting one breast from her blouse to let me suckle as I masturbated.
Afterwards Penny told me everything, a story going back years which left me astonished and removed any lingering trace of that ubiquitous adolescent assumption that your own generation is the first to really discover sex. She’d known she’d wanted to be spanked for a very long time indeed, but the first time she’d got it was from Grandma, when she’d been a bridesmaid at Mum’s first wedding. Kate had done her too, in the greenhouse behind Grandma’s house with her knickers full of rotten peaches, peaches from the same tree I’d feasted from a hundred times when I was little. She’d played with Aunt Susan too, although that didn’t completely surprise me, and I knew about Pippa, but the biggest shock was to learn that Grandma still spanked her.
They’d had an understanding for years, ever since Penny had admitted she needed it in response to Grandma commenting that she’d often been tempted to dish it out even before the first time. Now it happened once a week, usually before Sunday lunch if they were alone, with Penny put across Grandma’s knee for a hand spanking or a dose of the hairbrush, sometimes sent upstairs to masturbate, sometimes allowed to do it the way I had, while still over the knee. Sometimes it had even happened when the rest of the family had been coming to lunch, which meant that I’d been sitting at the big dining room table, completely in awe of my highly-respectable, academic aunt while all the time she’d had a hot bottom in her knickers courtesy of my even more awe-inspiring Grandma.
I’ve never been exactly shy about my feelings, but what she had told me helped me let go in a way I never had before. Knowing that so many people I’d always felt would disapprove were no different to me was wonderfully liberating. If anything they were worse, because I’d been introduced to the joys of spanking by Pippa and Penny, but it was in their blood. When we’d gone to bed and head to tail, as we did most nights, I came over a fantasy as delicious as it was kinky, in which I was initiated by being passed around for spanking between Mum and Pippa, Penny and Aunt Susan, losing a little bit more clothing with each time and finishing up in the nude to have my bottom roasted by Grandma.
The next morning I felt strong in a way I never had before. I was keen to talk more, and not just to Penny but to the others. She wasn’t keen, pointing out that not everybody knew all the things which had happened and that Kate had always done her best to shield Pippa and I. I let it go, but promised myself that at the very least I would speak to Pippa, who would be back from Australia for a while until the start of her term, and as she didn’t want to be in the same house as Danielle, was going to stay with Grandma.
Having been so open with me, Penny had to completely swallow her objections to my gentlemen visiting, and on the Sunday I entertained the Tradesman before going over to Grandma’s to join Penny for lunch. He was full of sympathy for my supposedly broken virginity, despite having taken his turn with the rest when they had me staked out. After making me a very generous present indeed to assuage the guilt he felt, he fucked and buggered me, but even with my body shaking to the thrusts of his cock up my bumhole I was imagining what I knew to be going on in the house across the road, where Penny would be lying bare across Grandma’s knee for her weekly spanking.
When he’d gone and I went over to join them, it took all my willpower not to say something. I was even a bit jealous, because she’d got a hot bottom and I hadn’t; she looked pleased with herself and I was feeling frustrated. She dealt with me later, once we’d got home, and it was a blessed relief once my knickers were down with my bottom warming to the slaps, which seemed the most natural and satisfying thing in the world.
She was right. I’d got the bug, and with a vengeance. All through the following week I could think of nothing but my next spanking, to the point when I came up to Penny’s room at the university and suggested she lock the door and put me over her knee then and there. She told me to be patient, pointing out not only that the huge windows looked directly across to the language centre, but that old Dr Hobbs next door was likely to have a heart attack if he realised what was going on. I had to wait, which made it all the better when I got it that evening.
By the end of the week one other thing had managed to intrude itself into my mind: the need to go home and get my stuff. It wasn’t that I really needed it, but I wanted to make a gesture of moving out in order to make it very clear to Danielle that she had no influence over me. There were several reasons that I didn’t want her to be there when I visited, not least that I might end up over her knee again, or worse: getting myself turned on by my punishment. So I rang Dad and after a few careful questions managed to discover that they were going down to Poole at the weekend for a day on a neighbour’s yacht.
I drove over in Penny’s car, a little naughty when I was still on a provisional licence, but the only practical way for me to get there. The house looked just the same as it had always done, putting a lump in my throat as I parked; because for all that I’d only been gone a couple of months, it felt like a lifetime. It seemed oddly silent though, which the rustle of a fresh breeze in the trees only seemed to make more intense. Inside it seemed quieter still, and I found myself going on tiptoes for no real reason. Dad’s car wasn’t there, which meant they’d definitely left, but I still found myself checking the living room and kitchen before going upstairs.
Danielle had tidied my room up, not just picking up the way Mum always did, but packing everything away as if it was going in storage. Logically that made perfect sense when I was moving out and would shortly be going up to uni, but, as it was, just the knowledge that she’d been through my things left me burning with resentment. I’d been thinking about what she’d done to me at the hotel anyway, and soothing myself by dreaming up complicated and impractical ways of getting my revenge, which took on new colour as I began to work out what she’d put where. One sack was labelled “charity”. When I pulled it open I found all the old toys I’d never been able to part with; my old dolls and bears, even the big red elephant Mum had bought for me when I was b
orn.
‘You bitch,’ I mouthed. ‘You wait.’
I took the bag down to the car and was coming back when it occurred to me that she might have done the same with Pippa’s things. Her room was in the same state as mine, but as I came in I caught a movement from the window. Looking out, I found that I wasn’t alone after all. Summer was in the garden, on the old swing Dad had bought for Pippa and me, rocking gently back and forth with her long skinny legs kicked out to either side and her golden hair turned to a cloud by her motion and the breeze. In front of her was the old teak table liked to have beside him when he sat out in the garden, and on it was a camera.
It was perfectly obvious what she was doing, because I’d done it myself many times, although never on the swing, which would have felt wrong. She was taking rude pictures of herself, with her knickers showing up the tiny yellow and green miniskirt which was just about all she had on, aside from bright green flip-flops and a yellow crop-top. I knew what she’d be doing with the pictures she took as well, posting them on the net, maybe to show off to a boyfriend. But if she was anything like me just for the joy of being naughty.
I watched, intrigued but also with some very wicked thoughts building up in the back of my mind. She was obviously having trouble with the self timer on the camera, because when she went to check the picture she wasn’t satisfied and reset it before going back to the swing. I could guess what she was up to, trying to get a shot that looked accidental, which meant she had to be swinging rather than just posing on the swing. That way she could pretend that it was just chance that she was showing her knickers, assuming she had any on and wasn’t being really rude.
She did: little white ones pulled up so tight they gave her a camel toe cunt. I saw when she deliberately cocked her legs as wide as they would go as she swung forward. This time she seemed pleased with the result, but that didn’t stop her trying again, only this time with her crop-top adjusted so that one nipple was half showing, as if by accident. I couldn’t let it be, and as I hurried downstairs I was telling myself it was just because I wanted to play with her and not to find a way to get revenge on her horrible mother.
I came around the back and watched for a moment, hoping she’d go further so that I could catch her in the act. If it had been me I’d soon have had my top up, and probably my knickers off too, but she seemed happy with just flashing her panties and a little bit of tit, so I soon lost patience, waiting until she was making a very obvious show of her knickers before walking out around the corner of the house.
‘Hi, Summer!’
She fell off the swing. That wasn’t quite how I’d been imagining the opening to our encounter, but it meant I could get to the camera before she did. The last picture she’d taken was a beauty, with her leant right back as the swing came forward, her hair streaming behind her, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and with her legs wide open and the front of her panties on full show up her skirt, so clear and so tight that I could pick out the twin bulges of her sex lips even in miniature.
‘You bad girl!’ I laughed.
Her face was crimson as she snatched for the camera, but I darted behind the table.
‘You’ve been taking self shots for the net, haven’t you?’ I teased.
‘No!’ she squeaked, and made another grab for the camera.
I danced away, laughing, and she gave chase. Halfway across the lawn I pretended to stumble and she caught hold of my T-shirt. We went down together, tumbling on the grass.
‘Give me the camera, Jemima!’
She’d got hold of it, stretched out next to me. I let go of the camera and swung a leg over her, mounting up on her thighs before she could recovering and bracing myself to keep her pinned down. Her skirt had come up a bit, showing a small slice of creamy smooth, pink bum cheek and the edge of her knickers. I simply couldn’t resist. One flick and her skirt was right up, her beautiful bottom on show, two firm little cheeks wiggling in her panties as she struggled to get free. I wanted to pull her knickers down and deal with her properly, a full on bare-bottom spanking the way I like it myself, but I knew it would be too much too soon.
‘Naughty, naughty, Summer!’ I laughed, and smacked her across the seat of her panties. ‘You need spanking, you do!’
‘Jemima!’ she squeaked, but there was a giggle in her voice and I knew I had her.
I gave her another smack, not hard at all, knowing I had to keep it playful, and find an excuse to sit on her other than wanting to get her out of her knickers.
‘Who are the pictures for?’ I demanded. ‘Come on, tell me!’
‘Just for me!’ she said, an obvious lie.
‘Yeah, right!’ I answered her. ‘Come on, tell me, or I’m going to spank you some more.’
I began to smack her bottom, playing pattacake on her firm little cheeks as she wriggled underneath me, but she wasn’t trying very hard.
‘Jemima!’ she protested.
‘Tell me, Summer,’ I demanded.
‘No! It’s ... it’s private!’
‘Some boy then, or are they going on the net because you like to show off to all the dirty old men who surf for porn. I bet that’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Jemima! OK. OK, they’re for my boyfriend. He ... he asked.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ I did, though, because I’d met him briefly and he was just the sort of dirty little sod who’d want photos of his girlfriend flashing her panties on a swing, but I couldn’t admit it or I’d have to get off her.
‘It’s true!’ she squealed.
‘Yeah, right! Come on, admit it. You’re going to put them up on a picture site, aren’t you?’
‘Jemima!’
‘Admit it, Summer, or I’ll pull down your panties.’
‘Jemima!’
I was still spanking, quite a bit harder now and her cheeks had begun to go pink where the flesh stuck out around the edge of her panties, but she was still playing at being helpless.
‘Come on,’ I urged. ‘Or do you want your panties pulled down?’
I was sure she did, sort of, despite her protests, because I’d played the same game with Pippa a thousand times. ‘I think you do!’ I laughed. ‘I think you want your panties pulled down, don’t you Summer? Hey, everybody, Summer likes her panties pulled down for a smacked bottom!’
There was nobody to hear, but to judge by the squeal she let out in response you’d have thought she had an audience to put one of Morris’s parties to shame. She stayed where she was though and I stopped spanking to take a firm grip on her waistband.
‘Come on, Summer, admit it, or down they come.’
‘Jemima!’
I decided to be firm with her, knowing from my own experience that it’s often OK once your knickers are off.
‘Stop saying “Jemima”, you sound like a parrot. OK then, if you’re not going to admit it, down ... they ... come.’ I spoke the last three words slowly, and as I did so I began to pull, peeling the tiny white panties slowly down over her bottom. She went wild, squealing and thumping her fists on the grass, but it was all fake. I was only sitting on her thighs, and she wasn’t that much smaller than me. She’d still be scared and uncertain, I was sure, but her bottom was bare and I’d won.
‘Now I’m going to spank you anyway,’ I told her, ‘just for fun.’
‘Jemima ...’ Her voice had trailed off this time, and her tone had changed; it was doubtful, pleading, but far from being angry.
‘Hush, it’ll be nice, I promise.’
‘But, Jemima.’
‘Hush.’
I pulled her panties down properly and took a good grip on her skirt, just to make sure she stayed in place. She had a lovely bottom, all the better for being naked, her cheeks little firm eggs of girlflesh, so neat her bumhole showed between them, even when she was face-down, with just a hint of pussy peeping out below. It was a joy to spank her too, from the way her cheeks wobbled to the little cries and sobs she gave with every smack, and even though she was still
wriggling I could feel her melting into it as her flesh warmed up.
With every smack my need for her grew, and I could easily have buried my face between her cheeks, or just stuck my hand down my knickers and come over the sight of her now rosy bottom so sweetly framed between panties and skirt. I didn’t know if she was ready though, and forced myself to hold back, now peppering her little pink bottom with gentle smacks and hoping I’d bring the heat to her cunt and that she liked girls. Even if she didn’t, I had to have a photo, and the camera was lying just by her head. I grabbed it, but she realised I was going to take a photo of her smacked bum and gave a sudden lurch.
‘No, Jemima, don’t ...’ she gasped, but I’d gone over, off balance but with the camera in my hand.
She struggled up, tripped over her panties and went down again, into a crawling position, just as I got my finger to the button. The picture was perfect, with her on all fours, her skirt still up and her panties in a tangle around her knees, one tit showing where her crop-top had come up, and her bottom a small red moon right in the middle of the picture with both the tight star of her bumhole and her neat little pussy on plain show.
I was laughing as I rolled away, with her after me, crawling along the ground and grabbing at the camera. She looked so funny that I couldn’t stop laughing, and I pushed the button again but only got a picture of half her face, and a lot of sky as she came down on top of me. I grappled her, trying to get on top so that I could carry on with her spanking, but the feel of her body in my arms and the scent of her hair and the heat of her pussy where her legs were cocked open across my hip was all too much. Her face was next to mine and I kissed her. And kissed her again, pressing my mouth to hers as she tried to pull away briefly before giving in.
Our mouths came open together and all the feelings I’d been bottling up since the moment I met her came flooding out. She met my kisses and even helped me as I quickly pulled her out of her crop top and skirt. Then she was suddenly eager: her thighs opened as my fingers burrowed between them. I held her close, masturbating her as we kissed, too turned on to stop, but determined to give her so much pleasure she’d never look back once I was done.