by Неизвестный
They didn’t even let me draw the shower curtain across, insisting that they wanted to keep an eye on me all the time, so I stepped into the bath, took down the shower head and turned the water on. The cascade running down my skin was wonderful. At last I could wash off the ejaculation of the two men and all the dirt that I had collected during the evening and I played the jet all over me, rinsing my hair as well as my body and getting rid of the sticky beer that had been poured all over my breasts. But standing under the running water made me discover that I desperately needed to pee, and although I put it off for as long as possible, the drinks that had been forced on me during the night were becoming too much. I finally admitted my need to the three girls.
‘Well, go on then,’ said Natalie, taking the shower head out of my hand. ‘You might as well do it there. Sit on the end so we can see.’
‘No!’ I protested. ‘Come on, Natalie, please at least let me use the toilet.’ ‘No,’ Anna interrupted. ‘You can do it in the bath; I always do.’ Her directness, her total lack of shame still took me aback but, with no choice, I sat down as I was told, but even this was not enough.
‘Hold your fanny open. I want to see the piss coming out.’
How could anyone be so callous? How could a girl so young and, by her own admission, so inexperienced, be so completely shameless and depraved? I couldn’t act like that now and at her age had been painfully shy and thoroughly naïve. Yet it was her look of innocence that enhanced the humiliation of debasing myself at her command. I pulled my lips open while she leaned over to watch intently as I urinated down into the bath.
After I was done, Natalie kept hold of the shower head and as I continued sitting there with my legs wide apart and my lips held open, she played the spray of water over my sex and down as far as my bottom. The intense silence as they watched was broken by Anna. ‘Nat? Stick it up her bum.’
‘Don’t be daft! It wouldn’t fit!’
‘Take the handle off. It unscrews.’
I am sure the others were wondering, as I was, how this young girl knew so much, but she was right. When Natalie had got the handle off and the weak spray had been reduced to a pathetic dribble, I was made to kneel down on all fours on the bottom of the bath.
I felt Natalie’s thin fingers and sharp nails pulling and tugging at me as she pressed the metal ring against my anus. I had never in my life had anything pushed into me there and the muscles naturally closed to prevent any entry. It was Anna, again Anna, who had the solution.
‘Squirt some shampoo in first. That should lubricate it.’
The small sharp round nozzle of the bottle was pressed against me and then a sudden squirt of it shot inside. The shampoo bottle was removed and this time when the shower hose pressed, it slipped through the ring of muscle and suddenly the hard alien shape was crawling up inside me, a cruel invasive presence that lacked any sympathy with my own warm and yielding body. The flood of water emphasised the foreignness and maliciousness of this encroachment, and I shuddered, pushing her hand away as I felt myself being bloated and filled.
Once she withdrew the tube, the need to expel the water was paramount. I needed to get up, somehow to stagger over to the toilet and relieve the unbearable pressure, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t risk stepping out of the bath and had only got up into a squatting position when the need became too strong and, despite the gloating audience, despite the shame, despite the ridicule of the baying girls watching me, I let myself go where I was.
Their howls of laughter brought all the others running in from the living room to see what they were missing. They arrived just as Natalie was rinsing round the bath.
‘You should have called us!’
‘Yes, do it again!’
So a second time I was made to kneel down in the bath and they all watched avidly while a little shampoo was squirted into my bottom and then the long hard end of the shower tube slithered deep inside and a second slow jet of warm water filled my guts.
The bathroom was too small to fit everybody so this time they insisted that I go out on to the balcony. I stumbled out, doubled over but so desperate to release the churning contents that when Carrie set down a small plastic bucket in the middle of the balcony, I no longer had the stamina to protest. They all stood round in gales of laughter as I was led up and allowed to squat over it and could finally release all the water from inside me. So public a display of so intimate a process was alone almost enough to flood me to orgasm.
When I was led back into the lounge, dry again, the chairs had all been pushed out to the edges of the room, making space in the centre where a large towel was spread out.
Carrie giggled when she saw my reaction. ‘Don’t be shy, Naomi. Come and lie down here, on your back, right in the middle where we can all see you.’
The girls all filled their glasses, perched on chairs or took up positions on the floor, and settled back to watch although, after I was arranged to Carrie’s satisfaction, I noticed that several changed their positions, shuffling down to somewhere they would get a better view between my legs. Even little Anna, who had been given pride of place in the centre, edged up closer.
Carrie returned to her seat and called to one of the others to begin. She came out, knelt down beside me and made me part my legs and raise my knees so that I was completely revealed to everyone, as if I were at a doctor’s surgery. She remarked at how wet I was, and then the others laughed because I was blushing, but every sneer, every humiliation heaped on me only made it worse. My clitoris was swollen; my lips were swollen and now I was lying spread-legged in front of all these people, most of them strangers, while they probed and toyed with me as they wanted.
The girl started applying some sort of roll-on gel all over my pubis, but when I asked what she was doing, she wouldn’t tell me precisely. ‘Just making you pretty.’
She smeared it all over my triangle of pubic hair at the front, and even between my legs, right on to the lips themselves. For this she had to pull them open, and the continual pressing, pulling and squeezing inevitably made them swell and moisten even further than they already were. Even this, an entirely automatic reaction, led them to mock and jeer, so she continued for some while, deliberately prodding and teasing just to disgrace me.
Next the girl had a cloth and a bowl of water and she started to wash me. It was the cheers that met this which caused me to look down again, trying to find out exactly what was being done to me. It was then that I discovered that what she had been putting on was a depilatory cream and as she wiped away the cream, all my pubic hair was coming away with it. I was being left as bare as a newborn child.
When she was done, all the others crowded round to see, to touch, to feel the smooth delicate skin. Even Wendy came over and peered down at me, before reaching out to run gentle fingers across the smooth hairless surface of my swollen sensitive lips.
Carrie was delighted. ‘That’s much better. Now we can see what you’ve got and now it’s play time. In a minute I want to watch you frig yourself, but first, we’re going to blindfold you so you won’t know who’s doing what and spank you. Four from each of us, I think. Turn over on your hands and knees.’
I pleaded with them then to let me go. I really begged and pleaded, literally on my knees, to be excused that. Last week I had received twenty-four strokes with a cane and the pain had been unbearable. Yet I would have preferred to receive that again, even double that, to the utter humiliation of being their toy, to be spanked like a naughty child, to suffer every indignity they could dream up and finally to have to masturbate in front of all of them, in front of friends, work colleagues, strangers and even little Anna. In truth, I knew even before I started that they would not listen to me. And maybe I was not convincing enough, because even as I knelt there, I could feel the growing arousal that belied my tears and that was welling up deep in my pussy. I knew that when they spanked me I would scream and sob and make an exhibition of myself just as I had done the week before, and I began to suspect that
they wanted to show that they could better the men in what they put me through.
I was made to kneel on the floor while they all gathered in a semicircle behind me but as the blindfold was placed over my eyes, I was lost. I could feel my sex, newly exposed and vulnerable, throbbing in anticipation of the pain to come and the blindfold was soaking wet with my tears even before I was kneeling in position, my forehead resting on the floor, my bottom straight up in the air.
The first four slaps landed in quick succession straight across my cheeks. They were not nearly as hard as the cane and as I waited for the second four, I began to think that I might survive this. Then the second girl started, much harder and her blows were more accurately placed together in one spot on one cheek of my bottom. I heard my own crying as I waited for the shuffling that told me the next girl was ready. I leaped up the instant the first landed, for she had deliberately aimed much lower, right across the tops of my thighs. The rest of hers were the same, a band just below my bottom that stung worse than anything that Alec or Paul had ever done.
I thought at first this was probably Anna; such a cruel variation seemed characteristic of her, but I was wrong because Anna was next. I heard her innocent voice (she didn’t care if I knew which one she was) telling me to kneel up straight and I knew she had something evil in mind. Even so, when her first vicious slap landed not on my bottom but across the side of my left breast, I screamed and my hands flew up to protect myself at the same time as I tore off the blindfold. She just told me that if I didn’t take my hands down, she would put the handcuffs back on me. I hesitated before dragging my hands away, and then knelt there, my hands at my sides as I waited to receive the remainder of the child’s cruelty. My degradation now seemed complete, and I bore the remainder of her slaps, a second on my left breast then two across my right, with few tears. Someone I didn’t know followed Anna and she hit me on the front of my thighs. After that came Wendy, my friend, but she avoided my eyes as she smacked me at least as hard as any of the others, aiming one stroke at each cheek of my bottom and one to each breast. The last girls followed Wendy’s pattern as well and as the final stinging slap burned across my nipple, I collapsed on the floor in tears, my thighs twisting and quivering with a longing I was given no opportunity to satisfy.
They did not replace the blindfold after that but made me kneel back on all fours again as they all crowded round me. Immediately their hands were swarming all over me; nipping and squeezing, nails scraping across the tenderest areas, scratching at the hand prints, pinching at the bruises. My swollen and tender breasts hung beneath me, aching for some tenderness and Anna again focused on my breasts. I remember wondering whether it was jealousy because of the minuscule swellings beneath her own sweat shirt, for she was blatantly bra-less and if it hadn’t been for her tiny nipples poking out, she could have passed for a boy. She was carefully examining my face as her fingers pulled and tugged at my breasts, dragging out my nipples as far as she could stretch them, and always watching avidly to gauge my reaction. Suddenly one of my nipples was clamped viciously tight and I looked down to find she had attached a wooden clothes peg to the delicate nipple. The instant shock as the peg closed completely winded me, so that I couldn’t cry, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. She smiled when she saw my agony and calmly took a second peg, stretched out my other nipple and then for a few racking minutes held the jaws open around the nipple and then smiled even wider as she slowly let the spring close on to me.
Within seconds, my nipples had gone so numb that the pain was surprisingly bearable, but it returned the instant she took the pegs off again and Carrie told me that they now wanted to watch me masturbate.
I tried refusing and I tried pleading again, but they ignored all my pleas and settled down to watch again, a comfortable and respectable audience waiting to be amused by the naked entertainer who was spread out before them. Yet I was wet, visibly and undeniably wet and lying on the floor as I was with all of them gathered round me, they could all see the evidence. It was so shameful and the worst part was that I knew what effect their presence would have. I was already aroused from everything that had already been done to me and, as my fingers slid down between my lips, to have them there witnessing my own self-abasement was the final glorious straw that destroyed all my self-respect.
Still, they all watched me closely, and each time I was nearly there, when I was tantalisingly close to coming, they made me stop and only allowed me to play with my nipples until some of the urgency had died down. Then I was permitted to touch my clitoris again, until I was once more nearly ready to come.
Ultimately it was Carrie who fetched a carrot from their kitchen and ordered me to use that to bring myself off, but they all giggled at the obvious ease with which the thing slid inside me and the way it immediately triggered my complete loss of self-control as I climaxed so loudly.
And it was Natalie who then fetched a plate of butter and a second carrot and insisted that I push this one into my bottom. The utter humiliation of being made to masturbate seemed insignificant compared with what they now demanded. The thing looked huge, although in truth it was not much thicker than a man’s cock, but I pushed it deep into the yellow butter, and it looked even more disgusting and threatening once it was shining ready for its sickening purpose. Yet it was also more alluring, and the prospect of being publicly stretched in so intimate a place by so huge and obscene a phallus made me tremble. I did finally succeed as they all sat watching in rapt attention.
And it was finally Anna who demanded that I pull it back out again and put it in my mouth and lick it clean.
And at the end, they carefully replaced the blindfold and settled me down on my back again. And as I lay there, still naked, each of them came in turn and squatted over my face while I licked them. I could see nothing, just felt each of them come to take up her position; the feet either side of my head and then the person squatting and a vulva was lowered down and pushed on to me. I had never in my life kissed a girl like this, and had never considered how different they might be. Some had masses of thick hair; some had none, although whether these were completely shaved or just underneath, I don’t know. Some had huge lips, thick fleshy curtains that filled my mouth; some lips were so small I could hardly find anything there at all. Some held themselves above my mouth; others pressed down and rubbed themselves against me. Some were wet and flowing the instant my tongue reached up to them; others were relatively dry. Some climaxed almost at once; some were slow and demanding but they all stayed until they were satisfied. Some were sweet and fragrant; some were bitter and sweaty and I am certain that one of them had only just been to the toilet and hadn’t wiped herself at all, not in either place.
And every one of them came to me, all eight presenting themselves in a steady succession. Each aroma that filled my nostrils was subtly different but all unmistakably feminine and all pungently aroused. I had no idea which was which, and I was sorry for that. I would like to know which was Anna: one of them had seemed not only small and closed, but also clean and sweet, and I could imagine that as being Anna, barely eighteen and, as she had confessed, a virgin. But had she meant just with men or was I the first person of either sex who had tasted her vulva and brought her to orgasm? Equally, Anna could as easily have been the one who came to me straight from the toilet, dirty and sour. In many ways that seemed more likely.
And I would like to know which was Wendy. We had been friends for many years and she had taken my side several times earlier in the evening. Yet when the opportunity had arisen, when I was lying there on the floor, naked and helpless, when she had the chance, she too followed the lead of all the others, coming to squat over my face, compelling me to lick her sex, to push my tongue into her vagina, to nibble at her clitoris and accept her juice smeared across my mouth, added to the juices of the others. Whichever position she had taken in the queue, even if, out of some last vestige of loyalty or sympathy, she had hesitated as long as she could, she had ultimately taken her place a
bove me and forced me to lick her to orgasm. Someone, and maybe this was Wendy, had also presented the tight bitter ring of her anus and required me to lick her there as well. Just because we were friends, it hadn’t stopped her adding to my humiliation, but I would have liked to know how far she had gone. I needed to know how to react the next time we met as friends; whether I should say nothing about it, whether I could ask for an apology, or whether she would order me to take my clothes off again, lie down on the floor and lick between her legs until she climaxed.
And which of them was last in the line? Who had lowered herself over me when she was already so wet that I almost drowned in the river of her arousal? Who was it who then leaned down and pulled my legs so wide apart and slapped me? Who had known that after the first vicious stinging blow across that most tender part of my body that I would lift up my hips in a wordless appeal for another? And a third and then a fourth landed straight across my open sex, until I again made so shameful a spectacle of myself by losing control as I was convulsed in another racking screaming climax.
THE DISCIPLINE OF
NURSE RIDING
Yolanda Celbridge
Yolanda Celbridge is our most prolific author, and her books have so far fallen into several distinct groups, all devoted to the joys of corporal punishment. The Maldona series is an extraordinary chronicle of erotic fantasies revolving around the complicated Rulebook and the physical upbraiding of miscreants according to its strictures.
Meanwhile, novels such as Memoirs of a Cornish Governess are an ‘erotic Baedeker of the UK’, to use her own phrase. Along with its sequels, such as The Governess at St Agatha’s and Miss Rattan’s Lesson, it is set in a pre-war world of corsets and chastisements, in which the essence of ladylike deportment can only be instilled through the unsparing use of disciplinary implements.