The Reluctant Stripper

by Lady Alice McCloud

  ‘Now her cunt,’ Mimi remarked, ‘and I don’t think you’re going to need the lubricant.’

  ‘She’s like that,’ M’selle Laroche responded. ‘However much she hates it she always gets wet, even when the other girls urinate on her or make her lick their bottoms, so I am told. She’s a natural whore.’

  Mimi merely nodded, but paused to ease two fingers in up Thrift’s vagina before selecting a nozzle fatter even than the one before. Again Thrift did her best to relax as the fat brass plug was eased in up her cunt and tied off, leaving both her holes bloated and straining, while the urge to urinate was now close to unbearable.

  ‘Coco,’ M’selle Laroche instructed, ‘on the lunette.’

  The small girl did as she was told, climbing onto the bench with her legs to either side of Thrift’s body before squatting down to sit on the lunette. The pose left her as if she were on the pot but with her bottom and sex poised not over a china receptacle, but directly above Thrift’s face. Only then did Thrift realise the full horror of her punishment, because Coco’s bare, open bottom was just inches above her face, the neatly turned little cunt lips above her chin, the tight pink anus aimed at her mouth. Mimi had seen the expression on Thrift’s face and slapped her thigh in delight.

  ‘Yes,’ she called, ‘that’s right, and you had better keep your mouth open, because if you don’t we’ll just keep on until you start to behave, and I’ll be giving you a little encouragement.’

  She flicked her whip at Thrift’s thigh as she finished, then joined M’selle Laroche in fastening Coco into her straps. These were similar to the ones that bound Thrift in place, thick leather buckled with brass to hold ankles, wrists and waist, with more added. Soon Coco was barely able to move, let alone escape, and her bottom remained poised exactly over Thrift’s face, anus to mouth but with a gap sufficiently wide to ensure that the audience could see what was happening.

  Thrift’s own view was more detailed still, Coco’s bottom hole just inches from her face as Mimi inserted on well lubricated finger. A nozzle followed, far smaller than the one up Thrift’s bottom and held in only by the small girl’s sphincter where it had closed on the narrow neck. Coco’s cunt was also plugged, and her mouth, both with fat brass nozzles held in place by leather straps. Beneath her, Thrift had begun to squirm with rising panic for what was about to be done to her, while the noise from the audience had risen to an excited babble.

  M’selle Laroche begun to adjust the spigots on the water bags, first twisting wide the one that controlled the flow into Coco’s mouth. Forced to swallow, the small girl had quickly began to react, her flesh trembling and the cheeks of her bottom squeezing as her belly filled. Next came the spigot on the tube that led to Thrift’s cunt, at which her muscles started to twitch, her self control slipping away even before she felt the first cool trickle of water inside her. Soon she was jerking in her bonds as her cunt began to swell, the pressure rising fast with the excitement of the audience, until she finally lost control of her bladder. She cried out as a great arch of golden piddle erupted from her cunt to splash down on the boards of the stage and soak the leather of the clysopomp.

  The crowd burst into applause and laughter to see Thrift wet herself, men and women both crying out in excitement and delight, some calling in bets, others responding with good natured curses. Broken and helpless, Thrift let it all come out, the urine gushing from her pee hole to mingle with the water now dribbling out of the overflow in her plug and running down between her bottom cheeks.

  Mimi was laughing and showing off to the crowd, first holding up a large goblet for everyone to see and then placing it between Thrift’s thighs to catch a pint or so of urine. Thrift was made to drink it, gulping down her own piddle in full view of the audience as they cheered Mimi on for her wicked addition to the punishment. By then the next spigot had been turned, the one controlling the flow of water up Thrift’s bottom, and as she swallowed down the last of her pee she could already feel her rectum beginning to swell.

  Another spigot was turned on and water began to ooze from around the plug in Coco’s cunt, slowly at first, until the overflow cut in to leave it dripping onto Thrift’s neck and chin. One last spigot and water was flowing in up Coco’s bottom as well, both girls now bloating with water until Thrift had once more began to wriggle and squirm in her bonds, while the flesh around the smaller girl’s anus had started to bulge. In no time the pressure in Thrift’s rectum had grown painful, setting her gasping for breath and begging M’selle Laroche for release. She was told to shut up, and a moment later the valve on the plug overflow cut in, to let water trickle slowly onto the bench beneath her.

  ‘She’s full,’ Mimi remarked, giving the plug in Thrift’s anus a thoughtful prod.

  M’selle Laroche nodded and stood back, Mimi began to tug open the straps that held the plug in up Thrift’s bottom hole and the audience had gone suddenly quiet. Thrift shut her eyes tight, her whole body shaking. She had begun to cry, the tears running freely down her face, but still she tried to fight the pressure in her belly, determined at the very least to hold back for a few seconds before expelling her enema.

  It was hopeless. The pressure was simply too great, and even as the fat brass plug popped free her bottom hole gave way, erupting a great gush of water all over the bench and the stage beyond. Fresh applause rang out, louder than before, the women crueller and more excited than the men to see their sister suffer, jeering and shouting as pulse after pulse of water squirted from Thrift’s gaping bottom hole. Her bladder also went, squirting fresh pee high into the air to splash down and mingle with the mess on the floor and running down the bench.

  She cried out in an agony of emotion, her feelings far too strong to hold back, both the appalling humiliation for the state she was in and burning consternation for what was to come, but also intense relief as her cavities drained of fluid and the pressure reduced. The tube up her cunt was still flowing, keeping her bloated and dribbling, while her bottom hole had stayed open, her muscles no longer under her control. She let it all come out, liquid oozing from her cunt and anus until at last she was empty but for the nozzle straining out her cunt hole.

  Both M’selle Laroche and Mimi had stood back, leaving Thrift to finish off, but as her gasps subsided to a weak panting and her cries to snivels they stepped forward once more. Mimi went to work, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she worked on Coco’s straps, then pulling the nozzles from the small girl’s mouth, cunt, and lastly, her anus. Thrift watched, at first dizzy with reaction to her enema, but with mounting horror, her muscles twitching in her straps as the wet, pink star of Coco’s anus began to pout.

  ‘No, please...,’ she begged, but it was already too late.

  Coco’s bottom hole had already begun to dribble fluid, her pee hole too, hot drips landing on Thrift’s face as she turned it aside. Mimi laughed and lashed out with her whip, catching the back of Thrift’s legs.

  ‘Head up! Mouth open!’

  Thrift obeyed, shaking violently, her eyes squeezed shut as tight as she could but her mouth open to the bulging ring of her friend’s anus.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Coco sobbed. ‘I can’t hold it...’

  Her words broke to a choking gasp as water exploded from her anus, full into Thrift’s mouth, filling the cavity in an instant and bubbling from the sides. She’d begun to pee too, a thick jet of hot urine spraying out to splash on the wood of the lunette and back into Thrift’s face. Clapping and laughter rang out from the crowd, louder than ever, along with calls for more and obscene suggestions for what should be done to the girls next. M’selle Laroche ignored them, stood back once more as she watched the contents of Coco’s rectum and bladder drain into Thrift mouth and run down her hair to pool on the floor and speaking only when it was finally done.

  Thrift barely heard, her senses completely overwhelmed by what had been done to her. Her mouth was still full of liquid, her
head spinning with reaction, her feelings too strong to be denied as she pulled up her head and began to lick at Coco’s anus. She had forgotten the advice she’d been given, but was simply too turned on to stop herself, her mind reacting to the abuse of her body the way it always did.

  The crowd could see what she was doing, watching in awed silence as the punished girl gave in to her lust, lapping at her friend’s still dribbling bottom hole in full view. Mimi also saw and gave a cruel, knowing laugh, at which M’selle Laroche stopped talking and turned to see, just as Thrift had poked out her tongue to stick it as far up Coco’s bottom hole as it would go.

  ‘As you so rightly said,’ Mimi remarked, ‘a natural whore and an utter slut.’

  M’selle Laroche nodded agreement, then spoke.

  ‘Whip her cunt.’

  Mimi wasted no time, flicking her whip at Thrift’s thighs, then again, to catch the turn of her buttocks. A few quick adjustments and the nozzle had been pulled from Thrift’s hole, leaving her gaping and swollen, her sex lips puffy and red, her clitoris engorged. She was still licking at Coco’s anus and didn’t stop even as the whip began to smack at her bloated cunt flesh. It stung, but it felt nice, too good to resist, making her more eager still as she lapped and sucked at the wet hole between her friend’s bottom cheeks.

  She was even hoping Coco would let go properly and soil her mouth, her thoughts ever more dirty and ever more urgent as her excitement rose with every smack of Mimi’s whip to the burning flesh of her cunt. Her face was buried between the trim little bottom cheeks as she started to come, her tongue pushed right out, her mouth agape. She could feel the muscular ring of Coco’s anus, tight on her intruding tongue as her own holes began to go into contraction, squeezing hard to push out what little was left of the fluid inside her in a series of bubbling little squirts.

  Mimi was laughing, a sound of demented glee as she watched Thrift come under her whip, while the audience had gone quiet, watching the performance in silent awe. Thrift cried out, her face still smothered in Coco’s bottom as she hit a peak of unendurable shame and ecstasy all at once, a second, and a third, all the while with the tip of Mimi’s whip smacking down on her puffy, bloated cunt flesh, and with that it was finally over. She collapsed onto the bench, near to fainting, so far gone her mind was a blank.

  Somebody threw a bucket of cold water over her body but she barely noticed. The second went in her face, finally pulling her back to reality as she was left spluttering and gasping. Mimi Caze and M’selle Laroche had left the stage, and it was other girls who came out to untie Thrift and Coco. Even Georgette was sympathetic, kissing Coco on the lips bending to do the same to Thrift before thinking better of it and patting her head instead.

  All five girls were naked, while the twins carried pails of water, mops and scrubbing brushes. They cleaned up on all fours, to the delight of the audience, who were all too plainly aroused by the show. Perhaps one quarter were female, and most of those had at least one stiff cock in her hand, many of them two as they masturbated the men to either side of them. Others were bent down to suck at their men’s erections, some masturbating as they did it, or mounted up to be fucked while they watched the girls on stage. That still left a great many men unattended to, and although she knew M’selle Laroche had brought in extra help Thrift could see it was going to be a busy night for the girls.

  She knew she was supposed to do her bit, regardless of the state she was in, which made it important to find Quigley as soon as possible. The moment she was free she took up one of the pails of water the twins were using to mop the floor, upending it over her own head. Laughter rang out from the audience, who had already begun to disperse, those who had come and a few intent on finishing their business in the private rooms or getting first choice of the girls.

  The cold water cleared Thrift’s head a little more and she came to the front of the stage to curtsey to the audience, all the while scanning the dim lit faces for Quigley. He was there, near the end of the third row back, a position that Thrift realised would have given him a perfect view of her bottom during her punishment but also allowed him to see her face. She waved and blew him a kiss, an action that drew applause from the audience and not a few cries in praise of her courage and how well she’d coped. Jumping down from the stage, Thrift ran to Quigley, still dripping wet as she pushed along the row to seat herself on his lap, wriggling her bottom against the prominent bulge in his trousers before bending to whisper into his ear.

  ‘Come with me. We must be quick.’

  His response was a low chuckle and to squeeze her bottom, then plant a firm slap on the wet flesh as she got up. As Mimi Caze had said nothing on stage, Thrift had already guessed that her plan remained sound and her hope was rising as she led Quigley by the hand, down the row and out into the private areas. He put his arms around her, squeezing and smacking at her bottom, his mouth pressing to hers briefly before he broke away.

  ‘I must reserve my passion for M’selle Caze, but you were glorious, and little Coco! So passionate, and such a sight!’

  ‘I had little choice,’ Thrift responded, ‘but we must hurry. The barge is moored on the Île des Cygnes. She is the Singe du Seine, with the carved monkey on her prow. You can’t miss her. Go down, and I will bring Mimi to you. Here is the key. Now hurry, this way, out of the side door.’

  He kissed her once more, gave her bottom a final, resounding slap and left, pushing the bar of the side door down and vanishing into the night. Thrift drew in a deep breath. She had meant to collect Mimi Caze, take her to the barge and leave the two of them to get better acquainted over a bottle of Beaujolais laced with enough sleeping draught to leave both insensible for many hours. Quigley would have woken bound and gagged in the hold of the barge, Mimi Caze on the banks of the Seine some way down river, quite possibly naked and sporting a caned bottom after the way she had treated Thrift. Mimi’s insistence on seeing the money and bringing Bruno had forced Thrift to change to a simpler but riskier strategy, following Quigley and making some excuse for the delay while she herself served him the wine.

  Before she could go she needed her rectule, while even in Paris a girl running naked through the streets was sure to cause comment. Hurrying up the stairs, she reached her secret hiding place under the eaves. Her anus was still slack, allowing her to insert the rectule without more than a few grunts and grimaces, after which she made for the dormitory. It was empty, the girls busy downstairs, and she had quickly retrieved her steel plated corset, along with Georgette’s best underwear. Footwear proved a problem, as her own was soaked with piss, along with her bed and most of her other belongings, and she was unable to find anything with less than three inches of heel. Finally she selected a pair of buttoned ankle boots belonging to Zara, then dressed quickly and threw on a hooded cape with a fur collar, purloined from Narcisse’s cupboard. All that remained was to reach that same side door through which Quigley had left, but as Thrift ran down the corridor the door of the office opened and she found herself forced to stop as M’selle Laroche’s stepped out, speaking immediately.

  ‘There you are, Chastity,’ she began, then took in Thrift’s street clothes. ‘No! I do not believe you have made an assignation outside the premises? You have, haven’t you, and immediately after such a punishment! I... I shall, think on this long and hard, but believe me, you shall not shrug off your next punishment so easily, after which you will be spending a day or more in the Ruelle des Sanglots, but for now, Monsieur Mazoyères you to entertain him the director’s suite.’

  ‘Then I must change,’ Thrift said quickly, but M’selle Laroche had already taken hold of her arm.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t, you little madam. I know your tricks...’

  She broke off with a cry of pain and surprise as Thrift broke the grip and applied her own, twisting one arm high. Quickly, Thrift forced M’selle Laroche into her office, where she intended to lock her, only to give in to
a sudden urge for vengeance. Forcing M’selle Laroche down across her own desk, Thrift flipped up the fine skirts of purple skill and the petticoats beneath, pulled down the matching pantalettes and applied half-a-dozen smacks to the bare, wriggling bottom beneath, delivered as hard as she could with a paddle designed for that very purpose and left on the desk for convenience when dealing with the girls.

  M’selle Laroche had had little time to react, beyond a few indignant cries, and but started to fight with what Thrift had intended to be the final smack, kicking out violently. Her boot caught Thrift’s shin, and at the same instant she found her voice.

  ‘Release me this instant! Release me, you impudent little whore! Release me...’

  Her voice had risen to a scream, thick with indignation for Thrift’s treatment of her bottom, but broke to a wordless cry, louder still, as the hairbrush was applied between her thighs, directly to the pouted rear lips of her cunt. For Thrift, being called a whore had finally released all the resentment that had been building up over the weeks, for every condescending word, every superior gesture, every striptease she had been made to perform, every cock she had been made to suck, every last humiliating detail, not least her enema, but most of all that she had been paid for it all.

  She laid into M’selle Laroche’s bottom with all her force, spanking the little round cheeks and the cunt lips between, ignoring the screams and struggles and kicks. Pink skin turned to red and red had begun to give way to bruises before M’selle Laroche lost control of her bladder, urine spurting out to soak the carpet and spatter the wall behind her. Thrift applied a last, hard smack and stopped, panting, watching as the piddle ran out from the sobbing, shaking woman’s open cunt.