‘Don’t, Céleste, please! I didn’t do that to you, did I? I’ll do it, but let me do it my own way.’
Céleste gave a contemptuous grunt and kept her hand twisted in Sarah’s hair, but gave up her control. Sarah took hold of the thick cock, full of self-disgust and shame as she began to tug on it, and telling herself she was only doing it to stop Céleste hurting her, to get her ordeal over quickly, because she had no choice – anything but that she wanted to do it and have him come down her throat and in her face the way she had drawn Céleste getting it.
‘That’s better,’ Céleste admitted grudgingly. ‘Yes, Monsieur d’Orsay, she is eager. She is a slut. Now, Sarah, why are you not masturbating? You must want to, or why make me do it? Go on, rub your cunt, you little tart. We don’t mind.’
Her voice was rich with mockery as she spoke, and Sarah found herself reaching back immediately, to touch her puffy sopping vulva. Her clitoris ached for her fingers, and after one half-reluctant motion she gave in, masturbating freely as she tugged on d’Orsay’s now rock-solid penis. He gave a grunt of pleasure at her added attention, Céleste a snort of contempt, and Sarah a last bitter sob of shame as she let her feelings go.
It was right, what they’d done to her, spanked her bare bottom and made her suck cock on her knees. She deserved it. She loved it. She wanted it done again, only for the spanking to be longer and harder and more humiliating, done in public, for her to be made to suck any man who wanted attention to his penis, to have her hair twisted and her face fucked the way Céleste had just done.
As if in response to her wish, Céleste once more tightened her grip in Sarah’s hair, painfully hard. Her head was jammed down, the fat cock forced into her gullet, and again, deeper, making her gag, and yet she was still rubbing at her sex, still wanking on what little cock stuck out between her lips. She started to come, thinking of what was being done to her no longer with self-pity and misery and resentment, but in ecstasy as her sex went tight. Again her head was forced down onto the swollen cock, harder still, and Sarah was coming even as a great gush of spunk erupted into her throat.
D’Orsay grunted loudly as Sarah tried desperately to swallow, failed, and coughed up the full mass of what had just been done down her throat. It went all over his trousers as he tossed himself into her face, spattering her cheeks and hair, smearing it direct from his jerking cock tip onto her nose, filling the pits of both eyes until she was completely unable to see.
She didn’t care, revelling in it as she snatched at her sex, with the same words running over and over in her head, stripped and spanked and made to suck, stripped and spanked and made to suck, stripped and spanked and made to suck, until at last she screamed out in her ecstasy, completely out of control as her face was forced down on Monsieur d’Orsay’s genitals by Céleste.
‘That is the way,’ Céleste crowed as she smeared Sarah’s face into the rubbery spunk-soiled flesh, ‘all over you, you little trollop, as you come, you filthy salope, putain!’
Céleste’s voice was no longer calm but full of glee, and she kept Sarah’s head firmly in place even when the spasms of orgasm has subsided. Sarah’s nose was clogged with spunk and mucus, forcing her to open her mouth over d’Orsay’s slippery balls in order to breathe, but as she tried to pull back Céleste’s grip tightened once more, keeping her firmly in place.
‘Stay as you are,’ Céleste ordered, ‘and listen. You liked that because you are a wanton, a natural whore, but when you come down you will not be quite so proud of yourself, no?’
Sarah shook her head, her lewd feelings already fading with her ecstasy and desperate to be allowed to take her face out of Monsieur d’Orsay’s crotch.
‘So I thought,’ Céleste confirmed. ‘Understand this then. You will never make me do anything of this sort again, never! You will treat me as I deserve, as a lady, and show due respect for my status and my modesty. You will not depict me naked, nor in any situation of disadvantage, with Monsieur d’Orsay or anybody else, do you understand?’
Sarah nodded frantically, her face now too comprehensively coated in slime for it to make any difference.
‘Bon,’ Céleste responded. ‘If you do, I suspect you can imagine what will happen to you, yes?’
Again Sarah nodded.
‘Bon,’ Céleste repeated. ‘Let us get your painting, then, and perhaps we shall see if young Armand has the skill to depict the same scene in rather more detail, and perhaps with rather more of the realist perspective.’
She laughed at her own suggestion as Sarah’s head was finally released. Monsieur d’Orsay gave a pleased chuckle and put his cock and balls away after making a few perfunctory dabs with his handkerchief. Sarah was allowed to use her compact and some tissues from her bag to wipe the mess from her face, then she was escorted downstairs.
The stalls and street were as before, Armand now seated on a high stool, smoking a reflective cigarette. He and Céleste conducted a brief negotiation in rapid French, with the occasional gesture towards Sarah, who stood sulkily to one side. Presently the painting was wrapped up and changed hands. Sarah took it, feeling oddly numb and quite unable to disobey, recognising also that what had been done to her was entirely reasonable, however horrid. After all, she had done the same to Céleste, and while it made no more sense than before, she could no longer deny the woman’s identity, nor that of Monsieur d’Orsay.
Seven
Just a month before, if asked how she would feel about being dragged into a building, spanked, and made to suck a man’s penis, she would have been horrified by the very thought, and if she had provided an answer at all would have said she’d be traumatised. As it was, she found it impossible to accept what had happened as real, despite the warmth of her bottom and the lingering taste of man in her mouth. She had the painting too, and yet from the moment she had seen Giles standing outside the museum her memories had been closer to those of a dream or a fantasy than reality.
His reaction removed any last doubts that he might have been in any way involved. As they walked back towards the river and then the hotel, his conversation focused entirely on the museum, the painting and whether they should eat in the hotel restaurant or visit somewhere from the Michelin guide he had brought. Sarah said very little, somewhat bemused and wishing the warmth of her smacked cheeks hadn’t once more begun to send urgent signals to her sex.
Back in their room Giles grew amorous, to Sarah’s alarm as she knew full well that her skin would still be red and that given his obsession with her bottom he could hardly fail to want to turn her over, and notice. She was not ready to admit what had happened, let alone that it had been done by two fictitious characters of her own creation, and ended up pretending that she was not in the mood.
After dinner and a brief inspection to ensure that her bottom had returned to a normal healthy pale flesh pink instead of spanked rose, she made up for her earlier refusal, first allowing him to have her on her knees and then tossing him over her own bottom. Delighted by her lewd behaviour, he took her back down to the bar and ordered Champagne, leading to more sex later that night.
The next few days followed a similar pattern, sight-seeing and shopping and sex. Sarah was nervous at first, constantly on the lookout for both Céleste and Monsieur d’Orsay, but neither appeared and, to her intense chagrin, her worry began to give way to longing. Céleste had been wrong, at least in part. The punishment had scared Sarah and made her contrite, also filled her with self-disgust for enjoying it so much at the end, but it had also left her with an empty sensation that no amount of sex with Giles could fill, however good.
She needed something more, and that something was to be spanked. It had to be done properly too, taken across his knee and held firmly in place as her outer clothes were disarranged and her panties pulled down, then her cheeks smacked without thought for her protests until she achieved that glorious glowing feeling that came no other way. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to be something he was interested in. Plainly she was going to have to
ask and, if that rather spoiled the fantasy, then at least she would be getting what she now needed more than any other part of sexual pleasure save orgasm itself.
A week had passed before she decided she could wait no longer and would have to overcome her embarrassment. They were due back the next day, and she had decided that it was important to take her first spanking in Paris or, at least, her first spanking from somebody other than Céleste du Musigny. Giles was keen on a grand meal for their final evening, and while Sarah wasn’t sure if that was a good idea if she was to be put across his knee afterwards she immediately accepted, telling herself she would eat very little and drink plenty.
They chose the Café d’Arles in Montmartre, once the haunt of artists, now refurbished to one of the finest and most expensive restaurants in the city. Giles ordered the menu gastronomique and Sarah quickly became lost in the succession of delicacies brought to them, and thoroughly drunk due to Giles’ insistence that each and every one should be accompanied by a different wine. By the end she was having difficulty standing and badly in need of the loo.
Leaving Giles to a final glass of Cognac, she made her way as best she could to a ladies’ toilet exactly as fresh and fragrant as she would have expected, only to freeze with the door held half open. Céleste du Musigny stood at a sink, washing her hands in a fastidious manner. Sarah’s head filled with awful visions, of being bent across the sink to have her big bottom smacked as a procession of elegant French ladies came and went, or dragged out into the restaurant for a public spanking, or taken into the kitchens and made to suck off the entire male staff …
She was unable to run, unable to resist, and Céleste had seen her, the mirror behind the sinks reflecting both their images which contrasted so glaringly that Sarah suddenly felt how impudent of her it was to even come to such a place. Céleste might dine at the Café d’Arles with impunity, but for Sarah it was like using bone china at a chimpanzee’s tea party. She waited to be addressed, and at last Céleste turned around.
‘Aping your betters, Sarah?’ she remarked.
‘I – I’m sorry,’ Sarah said, the words slipping out despite herself. ‘Are – are you going to spank me?’
‘Spank you?’ Céleste replied, her voice tinged with amusement. ‘No. If the patron has the poor taste to admit you, then it is no affair of mine, while so far as your behaviour to me is concerned, I trust you have already learned your lesson?’
‘Yes,’ Sarah lied, then continued. ‘Céleste … may I ask you a question?’
‘No,’ Céleste answered simply as she finished drying her hands.
‘But –’ Sarah began and stopped.
Céleste had left, without so much as a backward glance. Sarah stood still for a moment, staring at the door through which her heroine had disappeared, before the urgency in her bladder brought her back to her senses. There was considerable relief as she sat down, not merely for easing the strain, but because she had escaped a spanking, yet the feeling that it would have been fully deserved would not go away.
As her pee gushed into the bowl she closed her eyes, imagining how it might have been. Being put over the sinks would have been deeply embarrassing, and she could picture herself so easily, held down with one arm in the small of her back, her dress trapped beneath her badly twisted wrist, her panties down to her thighs as Céleste applied a firm spanking. Other women who came in would see, but would barely notice, any more than the customers at the café on the Île St. Louis. After all, Sarah was only some fat-bottomed English slut being spanked for impudence, it was hardly important.
She shook herself, fighting the urge to slip a hand between her thighs and bring herself to a badly needed orgasm. Only the bloated feeling in her stomach prevented her, but she allowed her fingers to stray there and to the heavy mounds of her breasts as she considered how much lewder it would have been to be taken out and spanked in the restaurant. That way the other diners could have seen the consequences of her appallingly gauche act in daring to show herself at the Café d’Arles, a bare bottom-spanking in public. Yes, that was what she deserved, to get it in front of all the elegant beautiful people in the restaurant, with her dress pulled up and her bottom bare, the biggest roundest bottom in the restaurant by far, a fat wobbling English bottom, so utterly different to the perfectly pert posteriors of the French ladies. Afterwards, when she was rosy and snivelling, she would be taken out to the back, stripped nude, put on her knees among the refuse bins and made to suck off every single male member of staff, until her entire body was plastered in spunk as she masturbated.
Again she shook herself. Her nipples were hard, poking up through her dress, and the urgency between her thighs was hard to deny. She had at least finished peeing, and quickly dabbed herself with a piece of toilet tissue, promising not to go further but to wait for Giles. Drunk, aroused and desperately in need of attention to her bottom, she knew that she could ask, that she would ask, because if he refused he wasn’t worth being with.
Out in the restaurant she glanced around, looking for Céleste, but there was no sign of her heroine, while the customers were not the wealthy French exquisites she had been imagining at all, but mainly tourists. Nor would hers have been the biggest bottom in the restaurant, an honour that went to a middle-aged woman, obviously American, who not only had a backside of truly stupendous proportions but was wearing pink lycra trousers. Several others also exceeded or equalled her own dimensions, leaving her in perhaps seventh or eighth place.
Giles had finished his Cognac and dealt with the bill, offering his arm as she reached the table. She took it, allowing herself to be escorted out and to a waiting taxi. The journey seemed to pass in an instant, and at the hotel she declined his offer of a last drink in the bar, suggesting they have a bottle sent up instead. Giles readily agreed, and she was soon propped on the bed, sipping cold Champagne with one hand resting lightly on her bulging tummy. Her bottom needed attention as badly as ever, and the sight of Giles in black tie was making her need more urgent still, but she knew she would have to wait at least a little. He seemed to have other ideas.
‘Wouldn’t you feel better doing that nude?’ he asked, settling himself into a chair.
Sarah simply smiled and put her glass down, enjoying being told what to do and more than happy to be naked for him. Knowing how he liked her, she knelt up on the bed and turned her back, her eyes on his as she eased her dress up to show off her bottom. His response was a pleased nod and she pulled the dress right up, and off, telling herself that he had said nude, so she would go nude, without a stitch, although it was a shame not to have her panties peeled down the way Céleste did it.
Her shoes were already off, and her bra came next, unclipped at the back before she half turned to show Giles as she let the cups free, spilling out both big breasts into her hands. Throwing the bra aside, she spent a moment teasing her nipples to full erection, then reached back to push her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. He was watching, comfortably seated with his glass in one hand and the other gently massaging his cock, which he’d pulled out as she took off her dress.
She closed her eyes, thinking how nice it was to be told to strip, and how much nicer it would be to be told to strip for a punishment spanking, preferably across his knee with several other people watching. As she began to ease her knickers down she was thinking of how it had felt to be bared in front of Monsieur d’Orsay, and wishing he was there too, to enjoy her shame, perhaps even for Giles to order her to suck the filthy old lecher off and take his spunk in her face.
A strong shiver ran through her as her panties came down over the tuck of her cheeks. Leaving them around her thighs, she went down on all fours, to show off her bottom with her back pulled in to make her cheeks spread and expose the rear views of both her sex and her anus. Her belly felt heavy, her breasts heavier still and, after a moment she rolled onto her back, giggling for her own naughty behaviour as she reached for her glass.
Giles was erect, nursing the long pale penis sproutin
g from his fly, with his balls out too, which Sarah found a delightfully rude contrast to his immaculate dinner jacket and perfect bow tie. That was how it should be, she thought, he fully dressed, decent save for his cock and balls, her stark naked, nothing hidden and ready to pleasure him in any way he pleased, only preferably after having her bottom smacked up to a glowing ball. Now was the time to ask, surely?
She rolled over, propping herself on the long bolster at the top of the bed as she looked back, knowing that the view would appeal to him and sure he could be tempted. He immediately began to tug harder on his cock.
‘Do you like my bottom?’ she asked.
‘Do I like your bottom?’ he echoed. ‘Sarah, I adore your bottom, you know that. I could spend hours with my face between your cheeks, just licking you. I worship your bottom, I only wish you’d let me teach you how to take my cock up your hole.’
‘I know,’ she told him, ‘and I would let you, but I could never take it. Now …’
‘You could,’ he interrupted, ‘it just takes a little practice. I could train you.’
The idea of being trained to accept a cock up her bottom made Sarah shiver, and before she could pluck up the courage to bring the conversation around to spanking he spoke again.
‘Try a finger, go on. Suck it first.’
Sarah pursed her mouth, but the thought of teasing herself between her cheeks as he watched was too much. Lifting her body, she rolled the bolster down the bed and laid herself over it, now with her hips raised to lift her bottom into full prominence, her cheeks a little parted, an excellent position to show off her anus to him, also an excellent position to be spanked in. It also left her bloated tummy clear of the bed, a sensation that brought some of the humiliations inflicted on her by Céleste to mind, especially how she’d been made to feel about having such a full bottom and big breasts.
Strip Girl Page 10