Miss Bridget's Girls

by Robin Bond

  “Oh, I think it was sometime last week, Mrs Schmidt,” said Violet airily.

  Mrs Schmidt eyed her suspiciously as Violet looked up at her.

  “Discipline is still in order,” said Mrs Schmidt, “as a reminder to restraint.”

  “Yes, Mrs Schmidt,” said Violet resignedly.

  “Keep those legs open. Do not close them or there will be an extremely nasty punishment,” Mrs Schmidt said. “But you can make a noise if you must.”

  Violet had no doubt that Mrs Schmidt was capable of something very nasty indeed. She resolved to keep her legs open at all costs. Mrs Schmidt raised her hand and brought her palm down hard, right on top of Violet’s cunt. Violet squealed and instinctively put her hand on her cunt to shield it.

  “As well as keeping your legs open,” Mrs Schmidt said, “you will not, I repeat not, put your hand there to protect yourself.”

  Violet hurriedly removed her hand. This was going to be a real ordeal if she could do nothing to defend herself. She looked up and saw Mrs Schmidt’s hand descending again, and quickly closed her eyes. Mrs Schmidt was a strong woman and the smack stung like crazy. Mrs Schmidt smacked her again, then again. Violet whimpered. Her cunt was stinging like mad. But at the same time, Violet was all too aware of other, very familiar sensations. Despite the pain, or perhaps because of it, Violet had a desperate desire to touch herself, to find her little clit and stroke it, to make it bigger and more and more responsive. Better still, perhaps, if someone did it for her.

  The smacking went on. Violet looked down and found that the lips of her cunt had turned red. It seemed also that they were a little swollen. How much more could she take?

  Mrs Schmidt paused for a moment. “How is your quim, my dear?” she enquired. Yet another word. Was there no end to them?

  “It is rather sore, Mrs Schmidt,” Violet replied.

  “I’d be disappointed if it were not,” Mrs Schmidt replied. “It’s such a pretty thing. I have a desire to do it a good deal of damage.”

  Violet didn’t like the sound of that. Pain was one thing. Surely damage was another. Miss Bridget would not like to see harm come to any of her girls. It interfered with their ability to earn money. Violet didn’t know what to say. She decided to remain silent. Mrs Schmidt resumed smacking her cunt. It hurt more than ever. After a while Mrs Schmidt said, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

  She pushed Violet off her. Violet got to her feet. “Follow me,” Mrs Schmidt said. As she left the room she called out to the maid to bring some wine. Violet walked up the stairs behind Mrs Schmidt, admiring her handsome ass as she did so.

  Mrs Schmidt told Violet to sit on the edge of the bed, then lie back with her legs open. She smacked Violet’s cunt a little more. Violet winced. Mrs Schmidt fetched some things from a drawer beside the bed. She showed Violet some wooden clothes pegs and began to attach them to the lips of Violet’s cunt. The pain was only moderate, but it threatened to get worse. She played with the pegs, moving them back and forth, tugging on them. Violet gasped, trying to keep still. Then Mrs Schmidt showed Violet some small metal clamps. Carefully she took off the wooden pegs and replaced them with the clamps. These hurt a lot more; Violet grunted with the pain as they were attached.

  Mrs Schmidt picked up one of the wooden pegs again. She took hold of Violet’s clit between a finger and thumb, pulling it outwards. Violet gasped. Meticulously, Mrs Schmidt placed the peg on Violet’s clit. Violet cried out, writhing to and fro.

  “Keep still,” said Mrs Schmidt sternly. “I shall hurt you even more if you don’t.”

  Violet tried desperately to remain motionless. She had no doubt Mrs Schmidt could hurt her very badly indeed if she did not. After a minute the pain diminished slightly, though it was still bad enough.

  Mrs Schmidt got up from the bed and walked to a chest of drawers. She opened the top drawer and took out three dildos. Violet stared at them with alarm. They were the biggest she had ever seen. Bryony had used a dildo on her and given her a very satisfying orgasm, but it was nothing to the size of those Mrs Schmidt had produced. Mrs Schmidt sat back beside Violet. She took the smallest of the dildos (though a monster to Violet) and placed it at the entrance to Violet’s cunt. “Have you had a lot of stretching?” Mrs Schmidt asked.

  “No, Mrs Schmidt,” Violet asked. “Miss Bridget told me I am still very tight.”

  She hoped this might deter Mrs Schmidt from forcing her too much.

  “Then it’s time we extended your capabilities,” Mrs Schmidt said. She began to push the dildo up inside Violet’s cunt. At first it was not disagreeable. Violet opened her legs wider, wanting to assist Mrs Schmidt; Miss Bridget had made it clear that co-operation was expected. But the dildo was stretching her more and more. Mrs Schmidt was a strong woman and she forced the dildo in further and further. Violet grunted. The dido was still only halfway in. Mrs Schmidt pushed harder and harder. Violet groaned, then cried out.

  “What a fuss,” said Mrs Schmidt.

  Instead of relieving the pressure, Mrs Schmidt pressed harder still. “It’s going in, whether you like it or not,” she said. “It’s why you’re paid.”

  At that moment, Violet would rather she was not paid and could walk away. It wasn’t as though any of the money came to her, anyway. But of course she could not let Miss Bridget down. She gritted her teeth as the dildo was forced in another couple of inches. She felt she was being split open. With one further effort. Mrs Schmidt rammed it home. Violet groaned. She had never felt so full. Mrs Schmidt held the dildo in place in case Violet’s cunt should reject it. After a while, though, the extreme stretching changed into a dull ache, not unpleasant, and Violet began to wonder what might happen if Mrs Schmidt switched her attention back to her clit, which was now throbbing from the peg.

  Slowly Mrs Schmidt began to move the dildo in and out, fucking Violet. After a while her cunt adapted. She even began to enjoy it. Mrs Schmidt put a finger to the peg on her clit and moved it around a little. Violet groaned with pleasure. But just as she thought that Mrs Schmidt was going to give her an orgasm, the dildo was suddenly pulled out of her. Violet whimpered in disappointment.

  “I think before the next dildo,” Mrs Schmidt said, “we shall try one or two other things.”

  She took the clamps off, and the peg on Violet’s clit. Having it removed hurt a lot, though soon the pain was replaced by a pleasing tingle. Was she ready for more pain? It was coming, whether or no. Mrs Schmidt returned to the drawer. This time she showed Violet a contraption she had not seen before. It was a kind of vice, which evidently fitted over the labia. Mrs Schmidt drew the left-hand lips of Violet’s cunt through the thin strips of metal, then screwed them tight, at first teasingly so, but then painfully as the screws twisted tight and tighter, She did the same to the right-hand lips. Violet’s cunt was now trapped between narrow strips of steel on each side, leaving the entrance to the cunt pushed open.

  “How does that feel?” Mrs Schmidt enquired.

  “To be honest, it’s rather painful, Mrs Schmidt. It’s screwed up very tight indeed.”

  “Good,” said Mrs Schmidt bright. She screwed the two sides of the vice even tighter. Violet grimaced. “Now for a little stimulation.”

  Violet thought there was quite enough stimulation already. Mrs Schmidt fetched a length of springy wire. She placed one end against Violet’s left labia, pulled it back and let it spring forward against the tender flesh. Violet screamed.

  “Quite a spectacular effect, isn’t it,” said Mrs Schmidt, smiling. She did the same to the other lips. It was agony. She did it twice more. After the steel had whipped back against her cunt the second time Violet lost control. She gave a wail and clutched herself, rolling around on the bed.

  “Oh dear,” said Mrs Schmidt. “We were doing so well up to this point. Now I’m going to have to give you such a beating on that pretty little cunt that you won’t feel like touching it for days.”

  She ordered Violet to lie on her back on the floor, her ankles against the
feet of the bed. Mrs Schmidt tied them firmly, her legs pulled widely apart. She made Violet sit up while she cuffed her wrists behind her back, then pushed her down again. Finally she pushed a ball-gag into Violet’s mouth and did it up tight. Violet felt horribly vulnerable, completely defenceless, her open legs stretched wide. Selecting a short, thick whip, Mrs Schmidt stood over Violet, facing her feet, and brought the whip crashing down between Violet’s legs. From behind the gag came muffled sounds of distress. Violet wriggled around but she could not escape the next stroke of the whip, lashing her in the same spot.

  The whipping went on and on, Violet twisting from side to side in a vain attempt to escape the pain. She screamed, but very little sound emerged through the gag which Mrs Schmidt had forced into her mouth. By forcing her head back, Violet could get a glimpse of Mrs Schmidt’s face. Her jaw was set in a look of determination; nothing would induce her to let off until she had achieved her aim, which appeared to be to shred poor Violet’s cunt. But at last she ceased, and stood over Violet, breathing heavily. Mrs Schmidt put her hand between her legs and stroked her pussy, then she got on her knees, straddling Violet’s head. She reached down and pulled the gag out of Violet’s mouth, then lowered her hips until she was sitting securely on Violet’s face, her pussy resting firmly on top of Violet’s mouth, while Mrs Schmidt’s asshole was lodged on Violet’s nose. When she put her whole weight on her face, Violet could not breathe. She struggled and tried to wriggle away, but Mrs Schmidt was much too strong for her. She laughed.

  “I’ll give you air if you lick me, just where I want to be licked, my dear. If you don’t do it right, I’ll suffocate you.”

  Whether Mrs Schmidt meant this literally or no, Violet didn’t know, but she was sure that anything was possible. Mrs Schmidt lifted off a little and Violet got to work. It wasn’t difficult to know exactly where to lick, because Mrs Schmidt made sounds of satisfaction when she picked the right spot. Soon Violet’s tongue began to ache, but there was no chance of stopping until Mrs Schmidt had finished. Each time Violet slowed, Mrs Schmidt let her weight fall and poor Violet was rendered unable to breathe until Mrs Schmidt relented.

  Violet alternated between circling Mrs Schmidt’s clit with her tongue and pushing her tongue into Mrs Schmidt’s asshole. Finally Mrs Schmidt was getting close and Violet summoned up the energy to renew her efforts, pushing her tongue hard against Mrs Schmidt’s swollen clit, then digging deep into her asshole. Mrs Schmidt came with a groan, her hips shaking, pressing herself hard against Violet’s face until she almost passed out.

  Mrs Schmidt got off her. She stood up, went to the bed and picked up the largest of the dildos she had shown Violet. Reaching into a drawer, she found a leather harness and quickly buckled it round her hips, then fitted the dildo into it. Violet was still bound on the floor. Mrs Schmidt got down on top of her, lying between Violet’s legs. She removed the vice clenched around Violet’s cunt-lips and positioned the tip of the dildo against the opening to Violet’s poor bruised and battered cunt and began to slide it in. Despite her soreness, Violet found that she was in fact very wet, and the dildo went in halfway with no difficulty. But then it appeared to stick and it required all of Mrs Schmidt’s considerable strength to force it all the way in, Violet crying out and begging her to stop.

  Mrs Schmidt paused for a moment once the dildo was in place, and then began to fuck, her powerful hips thrusting into Violet, the huge dildo juddering. Dimly in the recesses of her brain Violet recognised that despite the pain, her body was responding to the dildo, whether she wanted it to or no, and, miraculously, after several minutes of this ordeal, Violet felt an unstoppable rise of pleasure in her cunt, overflowing into a full-scale orgasm, which shook her to the core.

  “Good girl,” said Mrs Schmidt, looking down at her, then pulling out the dildo and standing up. “Let’s go downstairs and have some more wine.”

  Violet was untied and somewhat shakily got to her feet. The two women walked down the stairs and into Mrs Schmidt’s sitting room. She called out to the maid to bring more wine. The maid appeared, not seeming to be the slightest taken aback to see her mistress seated beside a young girl, both women naked and looking somewhat dishevelled.

  “Next time, my dear, we shall concentrate on your ass,” Mrs Schmidt said. “No doubt you have heard of anal dilation. I have a device which is very effective. And then you will be buggered, with a dildo which I can promise will force your tight little bottom open to a greater degree that you have ever known. After that comes a beating, one which you will not soon forget and which will leave your bottom raw and severely bruised. And then, if Miss Bridget permits, I shall make a third booking, and this time it will be your darling little tits that get the attention. I have a new device I’m keen to try out, a kind of vice, two steel bars that go over and under the tits and can then be screwed together, just as tight as one likes, before the tits are caned. Or perhaps I’ll bind them, thin rope tightly wound around each tit, held in place till the tits go purple and ache like crazy. It’s at that point I attach clamps to the nipples. Perhaps a little hot wax. Perhaps some needles. We shall see.”

  Violet quailed before this recital of Mrs Schmidt’s appetite for sadism. But, she reflected, today had been pretty fierce, and yet she had got through it, and even at the last received a pleasurable release. Perhaps she could achieve as much next time.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  “So you are from France?” Miss Bridget said.

  “Paris,” said Giselle firmly, as though that was different.

  “Paris, Miss Bridget.”

  Giselle made a face, then replied “Paris, Miss Bridget.”

  Giselle had been warned that if she wanted to join the Circle, she would have to show respect to Miss Bridget. But there was a thin line between respect and deference, and another one between deference and servility. Giselle considered herself the equal of any American girl, particularly in sexual matters. Though only twenty, she had plenty of experience. On occasional with boys, if that was all that was available; but preferably with girls, the prettier the better. So far she had found American girls pretty and on the whole willing, but unsophisticated in their tastes.

  “You like sex?” Miss Bridget asked.

  “Yes. Miss Bridget,” she added after a pause.

  “You like girls?”

  “Very much, Miss Bridget.”

  “And would you say that your interests are largely vanilla, or do they extend to other kinds of interaction?”

  “My interests are wide, Miss Bridget,” Giselle said enthusiastically.

  “Spanking?”

  “Definitely, Miss Bridget.”

  “Do you prefer to take it or dish it out?”

  “Dish it out?” Giselle replied. She was still getting to grips with American idioms.

  “Giving or receiving?”

  “Oh, both, Miss Bridget.”

  “We’ll see, shall we?” Miss Bridget said. She got up, crossed the room and took down a cane from the wall. As she came back she swished it to and fro. Giselle eyed it nervously. Perhaps she’d been a little too ready to admit to anything.

  “Bend over the desk,” Miss Bridget said.

  Giselle did as she was told. It was too late to backtrack now. She would have to take what was coming and hope it would not be too bad. She was wearing a grey pleated skirt, short enough so that when she bent over the tops of her black stockings were revealed. Giselle liked to dress well, with a degree of formality. She didn’t understand the American fashion for strolling around in jeans or shorts, with just a t-shirt. Above her skirt she wore a crisp white blouse, through which could just be discerned a lacy white bra. Miss Bridget lifted up the skirt, revealing some matching lacy white knickers. Miss Bridget pulled them down as far as Giselle’s knees. Giselle could feel goose bumps.

  Miss Bridget eyed Giselle’s bottom for a moment. The girl was pretty, there was no denying. She had black hair, worn short, with large green eyes and a generous mouth. Her breasts
were perky, not large, and her bottom, now revealed, was round and firm and smooth, and a creamy white. But not for long.

  “This is going to hurt,” said Miss Bridget. “Prepare yourself. I do not mind some slight noise, but you must keep still.”

  Giselle tightened her grip on the sides of the desk. She felt a little weak at the knees and was grateful for the desk’s support. She heard a slight rustle as Miss Bridget’s arm rose, then a swish as the cane descended and a loud crack as it landed. For a split second Giselle felt nothing. Then a searing pain slashed across her tender skin. She let out a gasp and hopped from one foot to the other.

  “Keep still,” snapped Miss Bridget. “I shan’t tell you again.”

  Giselle had an intense desire to rub her bottom, but she dare not move. Already she had understood that Miss Bridget was not to be lightly crossed. Miss Bridget raised her arm again; Giselle gritted her teeth. The cane struck, a fearsome, piercing blow that seemed to slice into the flesh. Giselle’s was shaking. She gripped the desk even harder to keep herself steady. When the third stroke landed Giselle let out a strangled groan. In the spanking games she had played with her friends there had never been anything like this. Her ass was on fire; she had been seared, scorched.

  Three more times the cane rose and fell, three more times the pain exploded in Giselle’s brain, unbearable almost. Yet not quite, When Miss Bridget lowered the cane after the final stroke, Giselle wondered if she might have taken a few more. The pain was agonising, yes; but there was something with it, an unidentifiable something that gave her a sensation over and above the cane, though she could not have said what it was.

  “Don’t move,” said Miss Bridget. She put the came down and began to stroke Giselle’s bottom, running her hand over it slowly, soothingly. Delicately she traced with her finger the line of the red welts across the soft flesh. Giselle caught her breath as Miss Bridget slipped her hand in between her legs. She trailed her fingers lightly over Giselle’s cunt, making her shiver. Then her fingers began to squeeze the lips, and finally a finger slipped in between them and right up inside her. Giselle could feel Miss Bridget’s finger moving around, then it came out.