by Peter Birch
“Yes,” Peter did his best to explain over the shoulder of the writhing, spluttering woman. “She’s been sacked by Bearslake, so she’s more determined to expose us than ever.”
“Hell!” Stephen exclaimed. “Look, Christine, calm down and let’s talk about this sensibly.”
She didn’t answer immediately, but her protestations diminished enough for Peter to let her go and take a step back.
“It really would be best to talk,” Stephen went on. “Sure, you could sell your story to another paper, and there’ll be one hell of a scandal, a lot of careers ruined certainly. Maybe you can even ensure that Peter ends up as the scapegoat. Maybe he’ll have to do a few months in jail, but is that really worth it?”
“Yes,” Christine answered.
She was still seething, her fists clenched by her sides and her eyes burning cold fury, one shoe had come off and her fine, dark hair was in disarray. Vivienne was trying not to giggle as Stephen carried on.
“Really? You’re not under Bearslake’s protection any more, you know. You’ll get sued, extensively, and then there’s the little matter of some of your previous scoops, achieved with the assistance of phone taps on a range of celebrities and politicians who are going to be extremely upset with you when they find out. No, don’t bother to deny it. We have some very good contacts indeed: government, police, security services, judiciary, all sorts. So let’s all go indoors and sort this out like civilized people, shall we?”
Nothing would take the scowl from her face, but she accepted the invitation and the four of them stood together in the small hallway.
“I was going to tell you that our research had borne fruit,” Stephen told Peter. “But that doesn’t mean your efforts were wasted this morning. Bearslake might well have managed to wriggle out of it anyway, by blaming his subordinates, including you, of course, Christine. Loyalty is not his strongpoint.”
Christine didn’t answer, angry and silent as she tried not to let her temper get the better of her once again. Rhiannon joined them, now in an evening dress and asking puzzled questions until Stephen and Peter had managed to get them all seated, save for Christine, who had opted to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, not yet prepared to make herself comfortable among her adversaries.
“What we need here,” Stephen stated, accepting a drink from Rhiannon, “is a damage limitation exercise, and on a fairly grand scale. First, Christine.”
“Indeed” Christine responded, “What are you going to do to get me on your side?” she asked, still defiant but with a flicker of concern showing in her eyes.
“Nothing melodramatic, I assure you,” he said. “In fact, Christine, I’m going to offer you a job with my company. You’re an unscrupulous little bitch, and a hard headed one at that, which is just what I need. I can promise you a decent salary.”
She didn’t answer, obviously taken aback, and Stephen continued.
“Peter, I hate to say this, but I think you’re going to have to call it a day. Things are getting out of hand, especially with Chloe Thompson now involved as well as Clementine.”
“But … but it’s my only source of income!” Peter protested.
Stephen shrugged and reached into the top pocket of his jacket, pulling out a check.
“Consider this a consultation fee for my Balkan deal, which is how it will appear in my books. Cash in your investments, maybe even sell up here, and you should be able to manage in modest comfort, I imagine?”
He had dropped the check, allowing it to flutter down onto the table. Peter looked at the row of figures, counting the zeros after the initial figure over and over again in the expectation that he was seeing double and half of them would disappear. They stayed the same, but a dozen conflicting emotions were chasing through his head at the same time, regret, relief, inferiority, gratitude and more, leaving him unable to find his voice. Stephen at least had the courtesy to seem a touch embarrassed, taking a quick swallow of brandy before he continued.
“Think it over for a while, if you like, but you know it makes sense.”
Peter hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Excellent!” Stephen went on. “Good man, and of course there’s no reason why we shouldn’t carry on having fun. In fact, to seal the deal, why don’t you give Vivienne a good spanking, if I might perhaps borrow Rhiannon at the same time?”
“Stephen!” Vivienne squeaked.
“Don’t be prissy,” Stephen told her and made a casual gesture of his hand towards Peter. “I did say that you could expect a spanking this evening.”
Vivienne came, pink faced and struggling not to pout, to lay herself across Peter’s lap, still with considerable poise despite the indignity of her position. Rhiannon showed no such restraint, climbing quickly into position over Stephen’s knee with her bottom raised to make it easier for him to pull her dress up. It had been done in a moment and her panties came down with no more ceremony, leaving her wriggling her bare bottom in encouragement as Stephen laid one large, bony hand across her cheeks. Vivienne had seen and threw her husband a worried glance.
“I don’t have to have my …” she began, but broke off with a little gasp as Peter began to lift her beautiful silk evening dress.
“Yes you do,” Peter told her, lifting the dress up to show off a bottom even smaller and tighter than Rhiannon’s and covered only by a minuscule pair of lace panties.
“And your panties, I’m afraid,” Stephen said as he began to spank Rhiannon.
“No, Stephen, please, they’ll all see my … my pussy,” Vivienne babbled, her voice breaking as Peter slowly but firmly turned down the little lace panties to bare her bottom.
“Always such a fuss when it’s time for their panties to come down,” he remarked. “Do you remember how Tiffany charged double to let you watch her get it in the buff?”
“You’d have thought they’d be proud of their pussies,” Stephen replied.
“They are,” Peter said, making a final adjustment to Vivienne’s undergarment and lifting his leg to make sure that she was suitably and comprehensively displayed from behind. “But they like to make sure we realize they’re showing off something precious. Anyway, the really embarrassing thing is if people see their assholes.”
Vivienne gave a gasp of shock and outrage as her tiny cheeks were hauled wide to expose the perfect little star of her ass.
“Not that you should worry, Vivienne,” Peter went on. “Not when you have such a pretty one—so tidy and cute.”
Christine looked disgusted, but she did not turn away.
“Don’t tease Vivienne like that,” Michelle put in. “You’re making her embarrassed.”
“That’s half the fun,” Peter replied, and he began to spank.
He’d taken a good grip on Vivienne’s waist, making sure there was no escape as he applied his hand to her perfect little cheeks. She’d tried to keep her poise, even as her panties were removed, but with the pain of her spanking she’d lost it in moments, squirming and wriggling over his lap, kicking her legs and tossing her beautiful pale hair. Her reaction only encouraged Peter, who spanked all the harder, until her indignant cries and yelps of pain had turned to sobs and a soft, whimpering noise as she began to cry.
“Spanked to tears, perfect,” he said, and let go of her waist. “Okay, sweetie, you can get up. But I think you ought to leave that pretty little bottom on show for a while.”
“Yes,” Stephen agreed, releasing Rhiannon. “Up against the wall, the pair of you, with your dresses held up.”
Rhiannon obeyed without hesitation, scampering across to the wall to stand with her red bottom bare to the room. Vivienne followed, sniveling slightly and pausing to take a tissue and wipe her tears before taking her place beside Rhiannon, her dress held up in the same fashion, while her pretty lace panties had fallen down around her ankles.
“Such a pretty sight,” Stephen rem
arked. “I wonder how many girls have been spanked as a consequence of that time you did Tiffany in front of us?”
“Easily over a hundred,” Peter assured him. “Nearer two hundred in fact, and that’s just the ones I’ve done myself. In total, I don’t know, but I’d like to think that we have played our part in ensuring that spanking remains a regular occurrence for the women of Britain, and elsewhere. Cheers.”
They clinked their glasses together and each took a sip. For a long moment there was silence broken only by Vivienne’s faint sniveling. Christine had stayed as she was, watching and listening with an unreadable expression, but she finally spoke up.
“Okay, Stephen, I accept, but …”
She’d turned to Peter.
“I want to see that bastard spanked, just like I was, with the rest of you watching.”
“Spanked?” Peter echoed. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” she answered him. “Or can’t you take it?”
“That seems fair to me,” Rhiannon put in before Peter could find an answer.
“Yes,” Vivienne added, turning her tear stained face to the room. “Very fair.”
“You have to admit,” Stephen said, trying not to laugh, “in the circumstances it does seem a reasonable request.”
Peter threw a pleading look to Michelle, but she merely shrugged.
EPILOGUE
♦♦♦♦
La Fesse en Rose, Dordogne, France 2016
Peter lifted his glass to the sun, admiring the golden gleams in the rich, sweet wine Michelle had poured for themselves and their guests. To his side, Ben Thompson lowered himself into a chair, smiling with amusement as he watched the scene beside the brook at the end of Peter’s garden, where a blonde girl lay face down on the lawn, her mini skirt lifted and her panties turned down to present her perfectly for the spanking being administered by the somewhat taller blonde sitting astride her back.
“Just like the old days, eh?” Peter remarked.
“Very like the old days,” Ben agreed, then turned to Gabriel, who was watching the spanking with equal amusement. “So, did Daniel make it?”
“Yes,” Gabriel replied. “Which is why he can’t be with us this weekend, unfortunately, but he sends his regards, along with a request, Peter. The day he steps down you’re to send him Angelica and Siobhan, together.”
“That seems fair,” Peter answered, then called to the two girls at the bottom of the garden. “Come on, you too, stop fooling around. You’re supposed to be entertaining our guests.”
The blonde girl merely stuck out her tongue and continued to spank the red-head’s wriggling pink bottom, before the two of them burst out laughing, as Rhiannon emerged from the house with a broad, wooden paddle in one hand. Peter chuckled and took another sip of wine, then spoke again.
“What was it old Porter used to say? ‘The wages of sin is death’, a statement I had to write out on the blackboard fifty times. Complete nonsense, of course, as I like to think my own life demonstrates. Rhiannon, if you’re going paddle Siobhan, make it quick. I hear a car on the lane and it’s probably your mother.”
Glossary & Notes
Many readers will be unfamiliar with slang terms both from British public schools in the middle 20th century and the London fetish scene somewhat later, both of which have been drawn from in the creation of this novel.
1 Surnames – it is a curious and now dying feature of the British class system that at old fashioned, male public schools pupils were always addressed by their surname. This habit persists into later life, but almost entirely among those who went to the same school, save perhaps for close university friends who went to different public schools. Curiously, the same form of address is used for servants or social inferiors, creating a minefield of social nomenclature in which the outsider can give offense all too easily.
2 Sneak – somebody who reports others to authority, for whatever reason. Like an informant in the world of gangsters, a public school sneak is the lowest of the low.
3 Prefects – the official hierarchy among public school pupils can be almost military in its complexity and precision. Most schools have their own system, but there are frequently two or even three tiers of prefects, each with their own responsibilities, privileges and areas of authority, jealously guarded and not infrequently absurd. In one school only the Head Boy was entitled to grow a mustache, while woe betide the junior who carried an umbrella after lunchtime.
4 Ragging – making a nuisance of yourself, whether it be fighting in dormitory or giving an unwelcome lecture. The university term “rag week” is related.
5 Police raids on fetish clubs.–.when fetish clubs first started to operate regularly in London during the late ’eighties and into the ’nineties, interference from the police was a constant hazard. Perhaps the most notorious was the raid on Club Whiplash on the night of October 12th 1994, which involved sixty officers and a cost of more than half-a-million pounds but failed to secure a conviction.
6 Gated – restricted to college grounds, a punishment normally reserved for senior pupils a little too inclined to make use of their freedom under national law. The author himself was gated for visiting a girlfriend in a city some seventy miles away and hitchhiking back in the early hours of the morning.
Footnotes
i In British English, panties are commonly referred to as knickers.
ii In British English, “fanny” is an affectionate term for a woman’s vagina.
iii Spunk is a slang British term for semen.
iv Gym knickers is the British name given to the short, tight elasticated shorts as worn by female runners, high-jumpers, pole-vaulters and other track and field athletes. Up until the 1980’s, it was quite common for European female students to wear just such a garment during most athletic activities.
v “Quid” is the slang name given to the monetary value of 1 British pound sterling.
vi Toasty girl – technically a girl who warms up another girl’s bed for her, although the term has strong sexual implications.
vii Member of Parliament. This is the British equivalent of a Member of Congress/congressman in the United States.
Named and Shamed
by Janine Ashbless
Also available from Sweetmeats Press
Once upon a time, a naughty girl called Tansy stole a very precious manuscript from a kindly antiquarian. But all of the world’s ancient and powerful magic, lost for centuries, has returned and now there is much more at stake than a few sheets of parchment!
Thus begins a rude and rugged fairy tale the likes of which you NEVER read when you were little! Poor Tansy is led though the most pleasurable trials and the most shameful tribulations as her quest unfolds before her. Orgasmic joy and abject humiliation are laid upon Tansy in equal measure as she straddles the two worlds of magic and man.
“The most amazing book that has graced my e-book reader in a long time. 5/5 for story, 5/5 for kink”
BDSM Book Reviews
“Named and Shamed takes other erotic literature and beats its backside black and blue with bramble branches. 10 out of 10.”
Cara Sutra
“From the vivid description, through the strong characterization, through to the plot that makes you want to stay awake into the early hours of the morning – Named and Shamed is one of the most fun reading experiences you will have this year.”
Erotica Readers and Writer’s Association
In the Forests of the Night
by Vanessa de Sade
Also available from Sweetmeats Press
In the Forests of the Night is a darkly sensual collection of erotic fairy tales. Each story blends the magic and fantasy of the traditional fable with the carnality and lust we’ve come to expect from Vanessa de Sade!
In the timeless tradition of the storybook, each tale is vividly illustrated by Vanity Chase. Beaut
iful, visceral and devoutly debauched, Vanity’s illustrations bring the book to life and explore a much more grown-up side of fantasy. The seven sexy stories within these pages offer up a mind-bending, pulse-quickening twist on a classic genre.
If you think you know how a fairy tale is supposed to end, this book will make you think again! Sexual and cerebral, magical and modern, In the Forests of the Night is the ultimate collection of sexy, adult fables!
Diary of a Library Nerd
by Kyoko Church
Also available from Sweetmeats Press
That’s what this will be. A safe haven.
A place for no holds barred ranting.
A place for secrets. And drawing. Even if it’s bad. Even if it’s wrong.
No one will see here. No one will see this.
This is just for me.
Charlotte has secrets.
Charlotte Campbell no longer recognizes her life. Once a shy, married librarian, she now finds herself jilted, holed up in her deceased father’s run down cottage, and demoted to working in “The Dungeon” with only an automated book sorter for company.
Then there’s the drawings she does. They are not what her work colleagues might expect. And there’s Nathan, a young patron at the library—the reason for her demotion and the inspiration for her art.
When Nathan’s emails reveal a startling truth, Charlotte discovers a new dimension of her sexuality. But unsettling dreams from her past continue to plague her and Charlotte is eventually forced to confront her most deeply rooted fears.
Part Bridget Jones’ Diary and part Story of O, Diary of a Library Nerd is the Wimpy Kid for adults. Compelling, erotic and accompanied by the drawings from Charlotte Campbell’s very grown-up mind, this private memoir of exploration and discovery is not to be missed!