With Céleste thoroughly humiliated, all that remained was to get her spanked. Now high, both on absinthe and her own arousal, Sarah drew with verve. A few of the footballs fans would help get Céleste over Becky’s knee, and have a quick feel while they were at it. Céleste would then have her arm twisted firmly into the small of her back, just as she loved to do to Sarah, and her pert little bottom would be spanked, and spanked, and spanked.
Sarah drew picture after picture, showing Céleste from every angle as her bottom bounced and quivered to Becky’s slaps. Some showed only Céleste’s face, registering a dozen powerful emotions; more showed her bottom, in various ludicrous poses as she wriggled and squirmed, being smacked and about to be smacked, mostly with her cunt on show and as often as not her bumhole too, and growing gradually pinker as the spanking progressed.
Next came the rude part, with Sarah giggling drunkenly as she drew the now hot-bottomed Céleste being masturbated by Becky, not to turn her on, but to deliberately humiliate her by making her come with her bottom smacked to show that she was no better than Sarah. A detail showed Becky’s hand between Céleste’s legs, a thumb pushed in up her victim’s vagina, fingers manipulating the moist fleshy folds below, with the clitoris sticking out between two.
Céleste tried to resist, her face showing first determination, then a consternation nearly as strong as when her panties had been about to come down, and finally a helpless ecstasy. In response Becky applied a few concluding smacks to Céleste’s rosy bottom, and as a final indignity pulled the little cheeks wide once more and inserted the stem of a lily into the anus.
By the time Sarah was satisfied that she had exploited every possibility of Céleste’s spanking she was too drunk and too horny to worry about anything but her own needs. Céleste, she decided, would give in once she had been brought off under Becky’s fingers. She wouldn’t even bother to take the lily out of her bumhole, let alone pull her panties up. Instead she would allow herself to be guided to her knees, now meek and apologetic as she was made to lick Becky’s cunt, not for the sake of lesbian pleasure so much, but as a gesture of dominance.
That was the final drawing, of Céleste kneeling, knees wide, bare red bottom framed in dishevelled clothing, her cunt wet, the lily protruding obscenely from her tightly-puckered anus, kneeling in abject submission as she licked Becky, who had merely rucked up her skirt and pulled her panties aside to allow access to her sex without exposing herself unnecessarily.
At last Sarah sat back, feeling well pleased with herself and so aroused that her thighs and bottom cheeks were clenching of their own accord. She longed to bring herself to orgasm, but held back, promising herself she would finish the episode of ‘Graverobbers’ first. After showing Céleste spanked, the bondage was easy. The pictures flowed from her pencil, the discovery of the gold, the four of them drinking together, Céleste suggesting that she would enjoy being tied, and the bondage and sex itself.
Céleste was put on a chair, facing the wrong way, her thighs and ankles bound in place to keep her legs well spread and her bottom open, both cunt and anus available for fucking, her mouth too. Her arms were lashed tight behind her back, her torso fixed to the back of the chair so that her breasts stuck out over the top, leaving her body fully vulnerable.
Tied and helpless, Céleste was used in her mouth, in her cunt and up her bottom hole, in picture after detailed picture, the really filthy parts in insets so that Sarah could take them out for publication. She showed Raoul growing erect in Céleste’s gaping mouth. She showed Marcel wedging his erect cock deep in to make Céleste choke. She showed Lamond with his hairy belly pressed to Céleste’s face as he fucked her mouth. She showed Céleste fucked, each cock drawn in detail as it was pushed in up the increasingly wet hole. She showed the penetration of Céleste’s anus, the tiny brown star forced wide until it made a straining ring of flesh around the first cock shaft. Last came the come shots – Lamond’s thick cock withdrawn from Céleste’s anus and stuck in her mouth for his orgasm, Marcel doing it in her face and smearing his mess in with his erection, Raoul coming deep in her throat at her own request, so that she choked and sicked up his come down her own breasts at the exact moment the police burst in.
It was perfect – unpublishable, but perfect. Sarah was in no mood to start toning it down. A last swallow of absinthe and she was grappling for the button of her jeans and pushing them down even as she flopped onto the sofa. She felt dirtier than at any time she could remember, wanting to do everything and have everything done to her all at once, but far too urgent to make herself take it slowly. Her jeans and panties came down, her top up and she was nude from her breasts to her ankles, her hands moving over her body to stroke her sensitive flesh as she let her mind run.
In the Paris of her imagination Céleste du Musigny would be kneeling in the street, her hot bare bottom on show with a lily stuck up it, her face pressed to Becky Wellington’s sex. It was a glorious thought, and had Sarah wriggling with pleasure as she explored herself, repeatedly touching her breasts and sex, her belly and bottom, even between her bulging cheeks.
Touching her bumhole felt nice, also rude. Her finger went to her mouth and back between her cheeks without hesitation, her inhibitions completely gone. Her legs came up, rolled high as she fingered her anus, teasing the little hole until it began to come open, sucking her fingers once more, touching again, and this time pushing deep into the hot slimy cavity of her rectum.
She began to rub herself, jiggling her breasts at the same time and wishing there were a trio of men there to thoroughly abuse her as she brought herself off. They wouldn’t do as they were told, but they would do as she really wanted, just like the men in Paris, using her and thus bringing her to an ecstasy she was quite incapable of achieving otherwise. She’d be made to suck their cocks until all three of them were hard. They’d fuck her and make her lick up her own juices from their straining shafts. They’d bugger her and make her suck their dirty cocks. They’d fuck her throat and make her choke, so that she threw up their mess all over her fat tits just like they’d made Céleste, only she, Sarah, would rub the spunk in as she brought herself to orgasm.
Her body was rolled right up, her finger as deep up her bottom as it would go, her other hand clutching at her cunt as she masturbated, wriggling in ecstasy for her dirty thoughts. As she started to come she pulled her finger from her bumhole and stuck it in her mouth, sucking up the taste of her bottom as her body jerked and trembled in an orgasm so powerful it left her slumped panting on the sofa long after she was finished, her mind fixed on one thing. Whatever else might happen, she was going back to Paris.
After a couple of days to get over her hangover, Sarah completed an official version of the bondage episode of ‘Graverobbers’ and took it in Hugh Bowle. He was more delighted than ever, and also keen to patch up the rift between Sarah and Giles. She declined, insisting that their relationship be purely professional in future, which left her feeling upset but also stronger and less emotionally vulnerable than before.
Back at the flat she sat down with a mug of coffee and began to wonder what, if anything, she could achieve. Was her imaginary Paris simply some elaborate trick, presumably played on her for the sake of profit as well as sadism? If not, how much could she change? Would she really be able to meet Becky at the Café Anglais? What if she were to draw a spire from Notre Dame falling on Céleste, or the Arc de Triomphe struck by a meteor, or Paris invaded by aliens for that matter?
The thought of killing Céleste caused a pang of anguish so sharp and so sudden that she immediately dismissed the idea, also telling herself that whatever she did it was not to be irresponsible. Not too irresponsible anyway, although now that she was sober, even the thought of Céleste getting her bottom warmed seemed an outrage. She bit her lip, thinking of the consequences, but experiencing an immediate flush of arousal. Sarah was the one who ought to be spanked, and regularly.
There was no escaping the truth. She wanted to be punished by Céleste. She crav
ed it and she always had done. Céleste was not the woman she wanted to be, but the woman she wanted to serve, perhaps as a maid in her apartment; dressed in a skimpy uniform, spanked regularly, made to entertain male guests in her mouth, used as a sex toy at dinner parties …
A strong shiver passed through her at the thought. It would be perfect, the realisation of her true nature, and yet she hardly behaved as a good servant should, far from it. Instead she had put her exquisite Mistress through a series of humiliating sexual ordeals, so inappropriate for Céleste that no matter how often or how severely Sarah was punished, the balance could never be redressed. Céleste wouldn’t want Sarah as her servant. She probably hated her.
The thought drew a tear from Sarah’s eye and filled her with self-pity and remorse. She should never have accepted the commission to draw ‘Graverobbers’, while Céleste had been absolutely right to spank her for it, and everything else. In contrast, Sarah had been absolutely wrong to set Becky on Céleste, which had been the act of a pathetic vindictive little brat too self-centred and stupid to understand that she was in the wrong and that her punishment had been just.
Tears were trickling down Sarah’s cheeks as she got up, not knowing what she was doing, but determined to make amends. She felt badly in need of a spanking, but knew it would never be enough. If she was spanked she would grow excited, and she wanted to be punished properly, because it was what she deserved, not to arouse her. Besides, there was nobody to do it and she would feel silly smacking her own bottom. She sat down again, pondering on what she could do, and how she could even begin to make up for what she’d done to Céleste.
Maybe she should put herself on the street? When angry, Céleste always called her a whore, so perhaps she would be satisfied if Sarah made herself one, out in the banlieu, offering to suck men’s cocks for a couple of Euros a time? Then again, Céleste seemed to think Sarah was a whore anyway, not for prostituting herself, but for prostituting her art. No, Céleste probably assumed that Sarah would happily suck a man off for a couple of Euros already.
Maybe she should take a proper whipping, a couple of dozen strokes of the cane as she bent to touch her toes or, better still, a dose of the quirt, applied across her buttocks and back and legs as she hung helpless from her wrists. She was sure it would be more than she could take, but not sure whether or not it would turn her on anyway, while again, unless she went to Paris, there was the question of who would administer the punishment.
Maybe she should go to Paris, and beg Céleste to forgive her and punish her in whatever way seemed appropriate? She would surrender herself completely, allow anything to be done, no matter how painful, no matter how degrading. Céleste would know what to do, and when Sarah had fully redeemed herself she would be made Céleste’s servant.
Another shiver of pleasure ran through Sarah’s body, stronger than before. Evidently it was impossible for her to be punished by Céleste without becoming aroused, and she knew that would still be true right up to the point at which the punishment became dangerous, or beyond what was just. Whatever it was, it had to leave her whole and well.
Could Céleste be trusted? The answer had to be yes. Céleste was cruel, but only because Sarah needed her to be, and nothing had happened beyond what Sarah wanted. Yes, when she went to Paris she would give herself over to Céleste, completely, but she would punish herself first, in some way she genuinely disliked. She would even take photographs and show them to Céleste to prove that she was genuinely contrite.
Again she fell to musing, trying to ignore the fact that whatever she thought of, no matter how disgusting, sent a shiver of pleasure through her. Soon the need to masturbate was close to overwhelming, and yet she had still not found anything she could do safely that would not turn her on. The very act of punishment was exciting, regardless of the details, although some choices were less exciting than others, or so she thought until she remembered something Mak had seen in a gay club, which had struck her then as repulsive, and still did. A young man had been put on a lead, treated like a dog, and at the end of the night been made to eat a bowl of dog food.
The thought made Sarah’s stomach turn, and yet she immediately knew it was what she should be made to do, what she was going to do. Everything else turned her on too much, or was actually dangerous, but the dog food wouldn’t harm her at all. It was merely disgusting, and a highly appropriate and effective punishment for her. That was what she needed, a stomach full of dog food. She would eat it out of a bowl on the floor, in the nude except for a collar, and she would video herself to prove to Céleste that she had done it. Céleste would be disgusted, but also amused, and with luck would accept that Sarah’s place was at her feet.
Sarah got up, determined to do it before common sense could get the better of her. Just to think about it made her feel sick, but she knew that was how it should be, and she didn’t falter as she left the flat and walked around the corner to the local pet shop. Everything she needed was there, and she quickly chose a cheap red plastic bowl and a spiked collar. There were plenty of varieties of dog food, but she was determined not to cheat, and ignored the tiny sachets of luxury quality for the smallest breeds. Instead she chose the largest tin of economy dog food, the only appropriate choice for her.
As she walked back towards the flat she wasn’t sure if she could go through with it. Her eyes already felt heavy with unshed tears for what she was about to do to herself, and a voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to have some self-respect. She ignored it, telling herself that it was selfish, the voice of a spoilt brat who could have another woman spanked and humiliated for money, that she deserved punishment and would go through with it no matter what.
Back in the flat she set up Mak’s video camera on a tripod in the kitchen, with a field of view showing the entire kitchen floor and a new tape so that she could be sure of capturing her entire punishment. Now ready, she spent a moment rehearsing what she was going to do, and knowing that once the camera was rolling there would be no going back. She turned it on and came to kneel in front of the lens, her head bowed in contrition as she began to speak.
‘Céleste,’ she said, ‘Mademoiselle du Musigny. I want to apologise to you, and apologise fully. My behaviour to you has been totally unacceptable, and I need to be punished. What you have done to me has been just, but you are right. I am a slut, and I can’t help but enjoy it, especially when you spank me. So … so I’m going to do this, which I won’t enjoy, as a gesture of apology to you and a punishment for myself. I beg you to accept, but I will understand if you don’t.’
Sarah stopped, the tears now rolling down her face as she began to undress with trembling fingers. Her top came off and her bra. She already felt vulnerable with the exposure of her breasts, and more so as her shoes and socks and jeans followed. She left her panties until last, still kneeling with her head hung towards the camera as she pushed them down, then off. Nude, she lifted her chin and put on the dog collar, making sure it was clearly visible to the camera, held the big tin of dog food up for inspection, and peeled the lid off.
She winced as the cloying smell caught her nose and the glistening lumpy surface of the contents was exposed. Once more she wondered if she could really go through with it, but Céleste seemed to be watching, her beautiful face full of scorn and amusement, fully expecting Sarah to fail. Taking up the fork she had put out, Sarah began to scrape the contents of the can into her bowl, making sure what she was doing was clearly visible to the camera and that she got out every last bit of the disgusting brownish grey pulp.
With the tin empty, she showed it to the camera once more and put it down. She was forcing herself to go on as she got into a crawling position, the voice in her head now screaming at her to stop even as she adopted the dog-like pose, her face above the bowl, the smell thick in her nostrils, the tears pouring down her cheeks … and then she’d done it. Her face sank into the dog food, her mouth opened around a big gelatinous lump, and closed.
Her stomach wrenched
as the taste and feel of the dog food filled her mouth, but she’d done it and she was determined to go all the way. Turning her face to the camera, she forced herself to swallow and opened her mouth to make it quite clear she really had eaten the foul mess. Her face went back in the bowl, taking a bigger mouthful this time and she gagged again as she forced herself to swallow. A bit had stuck to her nose, more around her lips, but she ignored it, burying her face in the slippery smelly mess, sobbing and gasping between mouthfuls with the knowledge of what she was doing going round and round in her head, grovelling nude on all fours as she ate dog food.
It was right for her. It was what she should be made to do all the time, stripped and collared and fed cheap dog food out of a bowl, the cheapest dog food, suitable for a fat bitch like her. She didn’t deserve to be Céleste’s maid, she deserved to be Céleste’s dog, kept in the nude and fed dog food and scraps, taken out for walks and made to pee and shit in gutters where everybody could see, made to sleep in a kennel, mounted in the street …
Sarah’s face was pushed down hard in the plastic bowl, smeared with dog food as she eagerly lapped it up, swallowing one foul mouthful after another and licking up the pieces of jelly that had dropped on the floor. Her hand had gone back, to find her juicy ready cunt, and she clutched at herself in a frenzied masturbation as she brought herself off over what she had made herself do. As she started to come she was holding a full mouthful of dog food, some of it dribbling down over her lips. Her orgasm peaked and she swallowed it down, thinking of her full belly as wave after wave of ecstasy tore through her, calling herself a bitch and a slut in between screams and sobs as she let her emotions out, and knowing it was true, that there was no punishment too degraded for her to get off on.
Strip Girl Page 17