The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  Kay took hold of the wooden armless chair and pulled it out into the centre of the room. She sat down and patted her lap with obvious inference. “Now get that over-indulgent little bum over my knee.”

  Lynette blushed some more, moved from the ball of one bare foot to the other: “But what . . . what if another Camp member comes in?”

  “The kitchen’s out of bounds, so they’d be transgressing. I suppose I’d have to spank you both, or even make you take turns spanking each other. I’d quite like to watch – and direct – for a change.”

  “You mean you’ve done this before?” Lynette’s eyes were wide and fixed and slightly glassy. She resembled a somewhat chunky Barbie doll, someone who wanted to be conventionally pretty but was unwilling to exercise or eat healthily to get in shape.

  “Mmm, frequently. More often than I’d have liked.”

  That last sentence was a lie. Kay loved to feel a young, firm female bottom under her hands, adored making the flesh jerk and redden. Ached with desire as she found her rhythm and caused the owner of the bum to emit little squeals and louder cries. Enjoyed everything from the first moment when she pulled down their panties and told them what she was going to do to their silky-soft hemispheres, to the last seconds when she let them slide, whimpering, from her knee.

  “I think I’ll use the wooden spoon on you for taking so long to acquiesce to your punishment,” Kay said, her vulva twitching at the thought of baring Lynette’s nightdress-covered bottom, “That’s after your spanking for breaking our kitchen rules, of course.” She made eye contact with the younger girl. “If you don’t come over here now I’ll have to fetch you, and that equals an even sorer bum.”

  “If you’d lock the door?”

  “No, bad girls have to take their chances.” She patted her lap again. “All this procrastination is earning you the hottest arse.”

  Lynette glanced at the door. She stared at the food she’d removed from the fridge then reread the notice on the wall which warned slimmers that they’d lose privileges for dietary transgressions. Slowly she approached her superior, her feet dragging on the warm floor.

  “There!” Kay took hold of the girl’s nerveless wrists, “That wasn’t so difficult.” She started the controlling sideways pull that would win her this pouting blonde victim, get her positioned and held defencelessly in place.

  Hauling the junior lecturer down, she manoeuvred her across her knees, caught sight of them both in the chrome panel of the cooker. Kay looked strong and slightly sturdy, her short auburn hair and large dark eyes giving her the appearance of control, of presence. The girl over her lap had a fair-haired, slender prettiness of a more traditional kind.

  “Right, let’s get that arse warmed,” Kay said, looking down at the bum curves outlined by the thin, embroidered cotton. She slid a roving palm beneath the garment and stroked the girl’s twitching rear. “How fortuitous – you aren’t wearing any knickers. Maybe you secretly wanted to be caught and thrashed?” She squeezed more strongly at the still-hidden prize, watching the back of the blonde girl’s neck pinken with embarrassment.

  “God, no.”

  “You mean you wanted to eat forbidden food? To put on weight? To ruin my reputation? Oh dear, it’s going to take me a long time to re-educate this recalcitrant backside.”

  She raised her hand and laid on a firm, centre-of-cheek spank over the nightdress.

  “Ouch!” Lynette exhaled hard, and reached both hands back to cover her chastened orb.

  “Bad girl. I didn’t give you permission to touch your bum,” Kay murmured, glad of the excuse to further discipline her subordinate. “You’ve left me no option but to tie these wicked hands out of the way.”

  Slowly she leaned back, enjoying the girl’s nervous – or was it eroticized? – squirming, and unbuckled the calfskin belt from her waist. “Right, let’s get these protective fingers held in front.” She used the belt to bind the girl’s wrists together, adding lightly, “You have to learn to take your punishment without complaint.”

  Lynette gave an experimental tug at her bonds. “But it stung. You did it so hard.”

  “Of course it stung – that’s my intention. And it’s going to sting much, much more.” So saying, she edged the thin nightdress up the girl’s slender back and tucked it under her armpits, then contemplated the bottom she’d just bared – a bottom that was full and taut and frenzied. The handprint she’d made on one golden cheek was already fading. Kay flexed her fingers then slapped smartly down on the other orb.

  “Ow!” Lynette was halfway through another squeal when Kay doled out five full-force spanks on alternate buttocks. Buttocks which writhed and pushed forward and arched backwards and moved sideways and jerked. She knew that it was vital to exert her authority from the beginning, that Lynette would respect her more afterwards – and get more turned on if she had a secret submissive side.

  “Save your histrionics till you feel the wooden spoon on your backside,” Kay said, then stopped to fondle the glowing trophy. She noticed that Lynette breathed hard and fast during her ministrations. It was a safe bet that the little minx was starting to get wet.

  “Is your bottom hot now?” she asked conversationally.

  A humiliated whimper: “Yes, Miss.”

  “And I’ll bet you’re not hungry any more.”

  “No, Miss Reid.” The girl sounded breathlessly eager to please.

  “Which shows that spanking you is good therapy, don’t you think?” There was a pause. Kay stroked the hot, pink globes some more. “Answer me girl, or you’ll make my right arm even angrier.”

  “I suppose . . .” each syllable sounded dragged from her “. . . that you were right to spank me, Miss Reid.”

  Kay ran her left thumb pad over the backs of the girl’s thighs. “Were right to spank you? That’s past tense, suggests that I’ve finished. Believe me, my dear, I’ve hardly started yet.”

  She watched the girl’s shoulder’s tense, heard and felt the shuddering indrawn breath: “But my bottom’s so sore, Miss.”

  “I can see that it is.”

  The Camp Leader caressed the well-warmed, fleshy sphere. “But I have to teach you discipline, and a few light slaps will hardly do that, sweetheart. I need to know you’ve learned total obedience and self respect.”

  The young lecturer swallowed. “I won’t steal food again. I’ll fill up on salad. I’ll be obedient, Miss.”

  “A good walloping will make sure of that, will remind you of the penalty for breaking rank here at Camp Trim.”

  Kay had been in the army long before she’d made it to the top on Civvy Street. She knew how to re-educate a young recruit, how to mould her into snivelling subservience. “I have to administer a thrashing that will remain in your memory forever,” she explained.

  “But what if someone comes in?” Lynette asked again.

  “They’ll see me using the wooden spoon on your naughty bottom.”

  “You mean you’re about to . . . ?”

  “Only once I’ve finished spanking you,” Kay explained. She ran a thoughtful hand over the blonde girl’s squirming cheeks. “Now stop complaining and thank me for the warm-up spanks.”

  “Thank you for the warm-up spanks, Miss Reid,” the younger woman mumbled.

  “You’re very welcome. And tell me you’re looking forward to the main part of your spanking which will be starting any moment now.”

  Silence. She fondled the pinkened contours, enjoying the girl’s aroused pants and sighs.

  “Tell me,” Kay repeated.

  “I’m . . . oh please, Miss, I’m sorry I stole food from the Camp.”

  “Say it or I may have to fetch my hard-soled slippers – and I have such big feet.”

  The naughty grown-up girl quivered. “I’m looking forward to my main spanking, Miss.”

  “It’ll make you wriggle like a landed eel,” Kay said.

  She slid her right hand between the girl’s labial lips and her fingers came away coated with gelatinous
pleasure. Lynette moaned with what Kay presumed was uncertainty and lust. It was amazing how often a spanking turned a girl on, each slap to the lower arse cheeks reverberating to her sweet spot. She’d pleasured many such miscreants who hadn’t previously seen themselves as wanting girl-love. “Your cunt’s getting ever so hot,” she said crudely. Let her pussy beg a little. “But the only part I’m interested in roasting is your arse.”

  She smiled to herself as Lynette hung her head nearer the floor, clearly overwhelmed at the ignominy. The girl had given up tugging at her wrist bonds for now and seemed resigned to the remaining bare bottom spanks. Kay laid them on hard, but not as hard as she was capable of. She was pacing herself, pacing the naked flesh beneath her determined right palm. She wanted to leave some of the girl’s spirit and energy intact for when she tasted the more focused discipline of the wooden spoon.

  When Lynette’s indrawn breaths grew close to sobs, Kay stopped. “Let’s have a little talk about your diet. What does eating too much butter do to the female bottom?”

  “It makes it bigger.”

  “And you want a small, high bum, don’t you, Lynette, because you want to run a Trim Camp of your own one day?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Want a bum that both men and women will admire?”

  The girl snivellingly agreed that this was the case.

  “So put the butter back in the fridge then get your backside over the table and take your medicine.” She untied the girl’s wrist bonds and watched Lynette get up slowly from her lap. Her movements were stiff and uncoordinated – lust did that to a girl – as she returned the butter dish to the refrigerator. Then she walked to the table, her nightdress covering her punished backside.

  “No – tuck your nightie under your arms. I only reprimand bare bottoms.”

  “But if someone comes in, they’ll see!” Lynette kept her arms clamped mutinously at her sides.

  Kay got up and strode purposefully across the room. “Lift it up now or I’ll have you back in Leeds before you can say the words ‘sacked for gross misconduct’.”

  With a defeated whimper, Lynette edged up the cotton to reveal her tummy and neatly-trimmed pubis. Slowly, Kay turned her to face the table, encouraged her to bend over it.

  “Where were we? Ah yes, about to correct this recalcitrant backside.” She caressed the waiting flesh. “I’ve found that the harder you thrash a troublemaker, the more she respects you. The more prolonged the lecture, the longer it remains in the naughty girl’s mind.”

  “I won’t forget – honest, I won’t,” Lynette mumbled into the mahogany surface.”

  “I’ll make sure of that by giving you lots of time to reflect between strokes.”

  “I understand, Miss Reid.”

  Kay looked searchingly round the room. “Oh, dear, I seem to have lost the wooden spoon. I may have to fetch the cane from my room instead and it’s much more biting.”

  “Let me find it!” Lynette jumped up and stared around the huge kitchen with its numerous hanging tools and colanders and saucepan sets.

  “I’m getting bored with waiting.” Kay tapped her foot irritably and slapped one palm against the other.

  Lynette’s hands automatically flew to her bottom and she stared more fervently at the various cooking implements. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she raced towards the large, decorative wooden spoon which hung from one of the alcove walls. As she stood on tiptoe to reach it, her nightdress rose up again, showing her tenderized bottom. Kay’s lower belly convulsed with lust.

  “Back you come, dear. The table is waiting,” she said in a deceptively casual voice. “Hand me the spoon.”

  Reluctantly, the blonde girl approached and held out the wooden punisher.

  “I’ll never over-eat again, Miss!”

  “The spoon will make sure of that,” Kay said. She admired Lynette’s nipples, now pushing firmly through the embroidered nightdress. “Bend over the table and grasp the edge.” She watched as the younger girl obeyed. “Good girl. Now stick out your arse as far as it will go.”

  Again, the twenty-two-year-old hesitated. “I’ll exercise more in the gym. I’ll give up sweets.”

  “Sounds somewhat unbalanced. Now present your naked cheeks for the rest of their reprimand, please.”

  She watched as the younger woman took a deep breath, then pushed her buttocks up and back, making a perfect target for the large, smooth spoon.

  “There, that wasn’t so hard.” Kay fondled the bum, enjoying its new humiliated display. “Looks very tempting. Looks like it’s just begging for this kitchen alternative to the cane.”

  Lynette whimpered. The sound seemed to come from very far away. It was from the head, of course, which was obviously feeling very sorry for itself and dreading what was coming. But Kay just wanted to concentrate on warming the arse. She knew that, though the girl would hate each searing stroke, it would make her pussy wetter and wetter, that she might ultimately want to pleasure Kay with her tongue and be pleasured in turn.

  She lined up the spoon with the underswell of the girl’s rump and swung the implement forward until it hit smartly home. The junior lecturer yelled and started to scramble upwards. “That’s bad. That’s very bad.” Kay stepped forward and cupped the girl’s buttocks, cradling them like she would a frightened animal. “You don’t want me to have to start all over again?”

  “Please, no.” Lynette got obediently back in place, then reluctantly presented her bottom for further punishment.

  Kay contemplated her handiwork: the lower curve of one spank-reddened cheek showed the first precise lash of the spoon. “Let’s make these cheeks nice and symmetrical,” she murmured gloatingly before laying on a second stroke.

  “Aaah!” The young woman flinched and drove her belly closer against the wood. She drummed her toes on the floor. Kay could hear but not see the scrabbling noises made by her fingers. They obviously wanted to propel her away from this torment, to at least cover her punished posterior, whereas her brain was warning her to get the thrashing over with, to stay in place.

  Her brain was obviously winning – at least for now. Kay moved the spoon up a centimetre, and got ready to paddle her would-be lover. She was more familiar with using her hand or a belt.

  “My friend at a rival camp enjoys making each failed slimmer’s bottom as striped as possible,” she told Lynette,.“She loves the distinction between the hot red cane marks and the cool white surrounding flesh. Sometimes we swap naughty grown-up girls if we feel that they’re growing complacent, can benefit from a change of discipline.”

  She flicked the implement above the previous glowing stroke then immediately added a fourth parallel mark to the other buttock. Lynette gasped loudly but stayed in place, perhaps contemplating what it would be like to be corrected by a complete stranger. “Now where shall I put marks five and six? Oh, I know, up here where it’s feeling neglected.” Kay stepped forward to tauntingly stroke the expanse of spanked-but-not-yet-paddled flesh.

  “Oh, it really stings!” Lynette wailed. Her sex lips were wetly swollen, obviously begging for liberation. So was her bare backside.

  “Just a few more to go,” Kay said. Part of her wanted to chastise this pert bum for ever, but the girl was more likely to acquiesce to future thrashings – and subsequent sex sessions – if her pain threshold wasn’t over-reached.

  She added lashes five and six where she’d indicated that she would and swiftly followed them up with seven and eight towards the top of the luckless girl’s posterior, taking care to keep away from the delicate spine. Lynette cried out and ricocheted up. Holding her small crimson cheeks in both palms, face flushed and eyes downcast, she backed away.

  “You’ve done well,” Kay said. Lynette faltered, then looked over at her. Kay approached very slowly. “I’d almost finished, dear.”

  “I just couldn’t bear . . .”

  “I know. I know.” She looked over at the sink as if the idea had just occurred to her. “Look there’s that cold cre
am that the cleaning lady uses to soften her hands. I could use some to cool your toasted backside.”

  Lynette’s hot face reddened further and Kay knew that she was bi-curious but still coming to terms with her sexual desires.

  She stared at the floor and mumbled, “I should probably do it myself.”

  “Are you refusing my generous offer?”

  The twenty-two-year-old swallowed hard. “It’s just that . . . I’ve never had another woman touch my bottom before.”

  “Yet you were happy enough for me to spank you?”

  “I . . . didn’t want to be sent away.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Kay said. “It’s cold back in England compared to here. The food isn’t as varied. And if you don’t get a good reference from me, you’ll find it harder to set up a British camp on your own.”

  The girl nodded, made brief eye contact then returned her shamed gaze to the floor.

  “Which is why you want to stay here, want to please your Camp Leader. Are very grateful when she offers to soothe your punished bum.” She patted the kitchen table. “Put your tummy over there, my love.” Lynette looked at the table top then moved slowly towards it as if half-expecting to be rescued. Was just settling her belly obediently in place when Kay re-crossed the room with the cream.

  For the umpteenth time, Kay lifted Lynette’s nightdress out of the way and admired her handiwork.

  “It’s an awfully hot rump,” she murmured, caressing the trembling, smooth globes. Lynette twitched in mute but vociferous agreement. “So you’ll be very grateful to Auntie Kay for massaging in some coolness,” the older woman continued, taking a golfball-sized globule of cream and starting to massage it in to the glowing flesh. She used slow but firm strokes – erotic strokes. Felt her own groin expand as the girl breathed fast and hard.

  Kay kept using her right hand to knead the ointment into the girl’s bum, slid her left digits between the girl’s parted thighs: “This is just to hold you steady.” Smiled in power and anticipation as her squirming victim started to buff her clit against Kay’s hand. “Such a naughty bottom,” she continued, rubbing the emollient between the writhing cheeks. “So wriggly. Especially when I massage this dividing crack.”