by Penny Birch
As I was already in it up to my neck I asked her if she planned to train the poodles on herself, removed my anorak, unfastened her wrists and skipped quickly back before she could grab me. Revenge would come, but not until I’d had the chance to savour my victory.
Revenge came faster than I expected. Only two days later Amber and I were chatting calmly in the kitchen when the bell for the gate went. She answered it and presently I heard the crunch of tyres in the yard and saw the big, golden nose of Rathwell’s appalling Rolls-Royce outside the window. The sight put my heart straight into my throat, and I seriously expected the door to open and half-a-dozen giant poodles to be let out. None came, only Melody, which was nearly as bad.
She played it very well, because if she had demanded the right to punish me Amber would have thrown her out. Instead she was perfectly reasonable, suggesting that I had gone a lot further than she had and that it was only fair for the balance to be restored. We discussed the comparative traumas of thinking one is about to be spit-roasted and thinking one has been buggered by a dog, but I knew I would have to give in at the end. Melody’s argument was that it was completely ridiculous for me to think they would actually have cooked and eaten me, which I had to concede. On the other hand she had genuinely thought she was being mounted by a dog, or at least she swore she had.
I conceded defeat myself, demanding only that the revenge be in proportion and that I be allowed to punish Harmony at some future date. Melody happily agreed to her sister’s fate. My own came immediately.
Amber gave her a riding-crop and said to take me into the paddock and have fun with me, taking no more than twelve strokes. An instant later Melody had me by the ear and was leading me outside. I expected a whipping, doubtless getting my head sat on. What I had forgotten was that Amber had agreed to let a local farmer graze three young Jerseys in the paddock.
Melody laughed when she saw them and I knew exactly what she was going to do. I was frog-marched across the paddock and forced to kneel, with my face inches above the largest, most glutinously disgusting cowpat imaginable with her hand twisted hard into my hair. I begged and pleaded with her, promising to do anything as long as she spared my face, but she just held me there as my dress was turned up and my panties yanked down, baring me.
I never said my stop word. I could have done, maybe she would even have taken notice, but my own masochism betrayed me, making me hold it back. Then it was too late. Melody gave a sudden shove and my face went in the cowpat. I shut my eyes just in time, but it went in my mouth and up my nose, warm, sticky filth, oozing up around my cheeks and into my hair, soiling me utterly as a great bubble of utter, abject humiliation rose in my throat.
She beat me like that, face down in the cowpat, bum up with my pussy and anus showing, twelve hard strokes of the riding-crop in quick succession. It hurt crazily, and I could hear her laughter as she thrashed me, the swishes of the crop and the smacks as it hit my skin, also the squelching noises as my face moved in the cowpat. I couldn’t breathe, let alone scream and howl, but I kicked my feet and beat my hands on the grass, as pathetic as ever.
I thought it was over when the twelfth stroke cracked down on my naked buttocks and my head was pulled suddenly up, only to be pushed straight back into the steamy filth as I gasped for breath. My mouth was wide open and I got it filled with dung, leaving me spluttering and coughing as she at last let go of my hair. She took me about the waist; her hand found my pussy and she began to frig me, forcing me to come over my own degradation.
It was more than I could resist, and I let her do it, gasping out my pleasure as she worked my clit with expert fingers. I tried to stop myself, to hold back and salvage a last, tattered remnant of pride, but I couldn’t and as I started to come I committed the final act of self-debasement and put my own face back in the cowpat.
I walked back with my head hung, Melody leading me by the hand. She helped me wash at the outside tap and took my dress off as it had suffered a bit. Inside I left her to talk to Amber and went upstairs, intending to change. I only got as far as stripping before I flung myself on the bed, not sure if I wanted to cry or masturbate to a second orgasm. The bell went before I could decide and I was about to rise when I heard a voice I recognised, Beth’s. Amber’s voice answered, calm, friendly, not in the least surprised, which I certainly was.
‘I’m glad you made it,’ Amber was saying. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’
‘I wouldn’t miss this, not for anything,’ Beth answered. ‘She’ll accept it, won’t she?’
‘Oh yes, she’ll accept it. She’s been after it for months.’
‘Good.’
‘She’s already had twelve, from Melody here,’ Amber went on, ‘but another few won’t do any harm. She’s in the bedroom, right opposite the top of the stairs. You’ll find a cane in my wardrobe.’
‘Thanks.’
I heard Beth’s footsteps as she started to mount the stairs. I pulled a pillow down the bed and rolled on top of it, raising my bum into a convenient position for punishment. With a heavy sigh I rested my chin in one hand, waiting for Beth to come and give me the whacking I so richly deserved.
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Epub ISBN: 9780753524893
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This book is a work of fiction.
In real life, make sure you practise safe sex.
This Nexus Classic edition 2005
First published in 2001 by
Nexus
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Copyright © Penny Birch 2001
The right of Penny Birch to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
ISBN 9780352339874
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.