by Penny Birch
It was hard to judge how long we had been fighting, but nothing like an hour. I had plenty of time to enjoy my beautiful captive. I pulled up my jodhpurs but decided to leave my blouse open for the moment. The next job was to colour her bottom up, which was less than easy as her skin was the colour of dark chocolate anyway.
‘Spanking time for you, Melody,’ I told her. ‘Then your favourite treat.’
She squirmed in her bonds but said nothing, instead turning her head to look up to me. Her eyes were big and moist, her mouth a little open. I laughed and went to fetch my riding whip. She gave a little sob when she saw me pick it up, and I made a deliberate show of smacking it against my palm as I approached her.
‘Red as a London bus, is it?’ I teased her as I laid the tip of the whip gently on her naked bottom. ‘Well, let’s see what colour yours goes shall we?’
The answer was a sort of glossy purple, as I discovered after warming her bottom by hand and then giving her a dozen moderately hard cuts with the whip. She hadn’t said a word, but had begun to breathe deeply and evenly once I’d spanked her and had responded to the whipping with little gasps and moans. She’d also struggled a bit at first but, by the end, was lying full length, completely subdued. I sat on her thighs and started to explore her bottom, meeting no resistance as I pulled her cheeks open to inspect between her legs.
Her pussy lips were so dark as to be almost black, her bumhole the same colour. Both entrances showed bright pink centres, her pussy moist with her juice, her bumhole swollen and a little open.
‘If I had that strap-on thing …’I said.
‘Please,’ she sighed.
‘Sorry …’I began, ‘but then again.’
My riding whip was one I had borrowed from Henry, with the handle topped with a big tiger’s eye. Melody’s pussy looked open and inviting but, knowing what she’d intended for me, I decided that it was the other hole that deserved to be filled. I spread her thighs with my hand, burrowing a finger into her pussy and drawing it out moist with her juice. She made no resistance, instead pushing her bottom up to make it easier for me. I sucked my finger, tasting her and adding my spit to her juice. She gave a little squeak and clenched her bum-cheeks when my finger touched her anus and she realised my intention, but then sighed and relaxed as I slid my finger into the tight hole. I spent a little while working her open and then pulled my finger out, replacing it with the head of my whip. The tiger’s eye was as wide as a good-sized cock – certainly more so than Rathwell’s – and Melody squeaked prettily as it popped up her bottom. I began to bugger her with it, pushing the whip in and out and then pulling it out completely only to enter her again. She was quickly moaning and gasping, but I finally pulled it out, conscious of the time.
‘Put it in again, Amber,’ she pleaded.
I complied, inserting the tiger’s eye in her bottom not once, but three times more and then leaving it in place. She was writhing her hips in a lewd, abandoned motion to make the whip handle move in her anal passage; a sight that had me wishing I could take the time to really enjoy her submission. Telling myself to get on with it I stood up and rolled her over on to her back. As I did so her knees came apart, offering me her open, wet pussy, the whip handle protruding from her anus beneath. She drew her ankles as far towards herself as the lashing would allow, then looked up at me hopefully.
‘Make me come, Amber, please?’ she said, her voice showing how badly in need she was.
‘Maybe, if you’re quick,’ I answered even as I pulled one boot off.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked. ‘Just lick me. I’ll be there in no time.’
‘I think you know what you need first,’ I answered, pulling my jodhpurs and panties off and laying them on my boots.
‘No, Amber, not that,’ Melody squeaked. ‘That’s special, just for Harmony.’
‘You know the stop word,’ I said, stepping across her body to stand, legs apart, over her chest.
‘Oh God,’ Melody sighed, shutting her eyes and opening her mouth.
Well if that wasn’t an open invitation I’d never seen one. My bladder was quite full, certainly full enough to do what had to be done. Still, I had to squeeze and concentrate before I could do it on Melody. She opened her eyes to find out what was happening just as the stream erupted from me, catching her full on her chest and splashing over her lovely big breasts. She shut her eyes quickly, arching her body and opening her mouth as far as she could. I leant back, my stream of pee splashing against her neck, then her face and into her open mouth. It filled up her mouth and ran out of the sides, trickling down her cheeks and into her hair. I was laughing, revelling in the pleasure of peeing on the girl who had threatened to do the same, and worse, to me. Melody closed her mouth and swallowed, groaning as she again opened it to be filled. I stopped, holding back the last of my pee.
‘You tramp!’ I remarked, a little shocked by the sheer wantonness of her response.
‘Do it in my mouth again, Amber,’ she begged, ‘then make me come.’
I sank to my knees, putting my fanny directly over her mouth and then letting go. Melody’s mouth filled up until my pee was running out of the sides. Her breath was coming hard, pushing her tits against my bottom. I moved down her body, kissing her neck and breasts, tasting the sharp, tart flavour of my pee and the salt of her sweat. My fanny was still running, dribbling pee on to her belly and over her pubic mound. I kissed her belly button, putting my tongue into the pool that had filled it, then her hair and finally her pussy, finding her clit and starting to lick. She tasted strong, musky and female, mixed with the taste of my own pee. I put my fingers back between my legs and started to masturbate, all thoughts of getting back to the yard lost in the heat of the moment.
Melody groaned, pushing her hips into my face as she started to come. I knew she’d swallowed when she started to call my name. The thought of her drinking my pee had me dizzy with pleasure and my finger was flicking hard on my clitoris. I stopped licking as Melody’s orgasm subsided, scrambling round until my bottom was over her face. Her tongue quickly found my clitty, licking hard, then moving to my vagina as I sat up straight on her face.
‘Lick my bottom,’ I demanded.
Melody didn’t hesitate, her tongue probing my anus even as I got my fingers back to my clit. It felt wonderful, riding my captive’s face as she licked my anus – the one act I found more servile and dirty than any other and what I fantasised over more than anything else. Even better, if I hadn’t successfully subdued her, it would have been my tongue that was probing her anus instead. As it was, her bumhole was stretched around the handle of my whip, a gesture of dominance more exquisite even than the tying of her hands and ankles or peeing over her beautiful dark-chocolate skin and into her open mouth.
I came, screaming so loudly that they must have heard us in the yard. My cheeks were spread wide over her face, her tongue deep inside me. My pleasure lasted a long time, building to an exquisite climax as I savoured the results of my conquest, making my back arch and my mouth open so wide that my jaw ached. I was incredibly sensitive, feeling Melody’s tongue wriggle in my anus, aware of the exact position of my middle finger on my clitoris, feeling simultaneously the warm sunshine, the wet grass, the caked mud on my nipples and the taste of girl strong in my mouth.
Finally it was over and I let myself slide off Melody, leaving her gasping on the grass. For a moment I lay on the grass, then the need to get back struck home. Not that it was a big problem. I had no idea of the time, but it seemed impossible that we had been fighting and playing for anything like an hour. Still, it seemed better to be safe than sorry, and so I got to my feet and started to put my clothes back on.
‘Will you walk?’ I asked Melody, expecting her to agree and hoping that she would.
‘No way, girl. You’ve got to carry me,’ she answered cheekily.
‘Be fair,’ I said. ‘I made you come, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah,’ she laughed, ‘and then stuck your butt in my face to ge
t your own kicks. Morris says you’re stuck-up, which is why he’s so keen to take your cherry, but I reckon you’re a dirty bitch.’
‘Only for girls,’ I answered, ‘and men if I’m … no, never mind. Look, are you going to walk or not?’
‘Sorry, Amber, you’ve got to do it the hard way, just like Morris did,’ she said lightly. ‘Still, you’re strong, you should manage. It’s not many girls can get the better of me.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ I said. ‘Come on, be nice, I’ll submit to you later, any way you like.’
‘That’s tempting,’ she answered, ‘but I’ve got to say no. See, there’s a big thank you in this for Harmony and I if we win. Besides, you look so high and mighty in your mistress gear, the truth is, I’m just dying to watch Morris fuck you.’
Pausing only to extract my whip, I began to try and pick her up, thinking how lucky I was that I’d remembered in time that she was Rathwell’s girlfriend. I’d been going to say that I enjoyed sex with men as long as they were dominant and preferably beat my bottom first. A piece of information that I very definitely did not want Rathwell to have.
Picking Melody up proved almost impossible. For a start I was tired. She wouldn’t help at all, instead writhing like an eel every time I got a grip on her. Finally there was the mud and water, which made everything that much harder. In the end I had to drag her by the feet, an exhausting process in itself. By the time I came to within sight of the yard I was in an even worse state than I had been after subduing Melody. I’d fallen over twice and was plastered in mud, the last button had come off my blouse and my boots were full of water. In the yard Susan was waving and gave me an encouraging thumbs-up sign, calling something I didn’t catch. Henry, Francis and Rathwell were all seated, Harmony standing behind them.
I renewed my efforts to drag Melody, uncertain about my time. It seemed only minutes since we’d started, but I’d really lost ah track of time. Susan’s actions seemed encouraging, but they were forbidden to actually call out the time to me. Melody’s struggles became more desperate, clutching at grass tufts with her hands, wriggling like a fish whenever I tried to lift her, and generally making life difficult for me. It seemed pointless to argue with her, so I just stuck to my task.
Later they told me that it took me nearly half-an-hour to drag Melody down that field, fighting every inch of the way. Susan’s signals – at first confident – became urgent and then frantic, but it was when I saw that Harmony was down on her knees in front of Rathwell and had his cock in her mouth that I really began to panic. She was obviously getting him ready, and I knew exactly whose pussy that skinny little erection was destined for.
I stopped looking at them, turning my back and putting every effort into dragging the reluctant Melody. She was nearly as exhausted as me, and had given up struggling, but still made a dead weight that needed to be dragged foot by foot over the grass. Finally I made the yard, every muscle in my body aching, dizzy with fatigue, and barely able to get Melody over the line. Even as I collapsed into the mud, Henry was reaching for the horn.
‘Amber!’ Susan exclaimed, desperation and pity in her voice.
‘We’ll call that fifty-nine and fifty seconds,’ Henry said despondently. ‘Sorry, Amber.’
I really didn’t care that much. Rathwell was standing to the rear of the others, his jodhpurs down to his thighs and his cock poking out between the halves of his shirt. In his hand he held the yoke. Harmony was nursing his erection with her hand and looking at me with an expression I found hard to fathom.
‘Crawl over here,’ he ordered.
‘Won’t you even let her clean up!’ Susan objected.
‘Yes, give the poor girl a chance!’ Francis added.
I raised my hand to silence them, keen to submit with what little grace and dignity I had left and not make an unseemly fuss. All eyes were on me as I crawled slowly over to Rathwell, the mud squelching up between my fingers and around my legs. My blouse was wide open, my bra a sodden ruin that lefts my boobs swinging naked beneath me. He grinned and pointed to his trainers, both nearly as muddy as my own boots. I put my head down and kissed his feet, obedient, submissive and accepting. Everyone was silent as I knelt up and passively allowed Harmony to guide his erection into my mouth. I sucked, tasting his cock and the mud from his shoes, making no protest when he took hold of my hair and began to fuck my mouth with slow, even strokes.
‘Back on all fours,’ he instructed, trying to be stern and hard but too excited to really pull it off. ‘Put your face in the mud.’
I got down obediently, putting my face into the warm brown slurry as he had directed. Lifting enough to let myself breathe, I waited with my eyes closed. Rathwell’s hands came under me, fondling my breasts possessively until he had had his fill. Something hard touched my waist and I realised that it was the yoke. My feelings of submission increased still more as he put it on me, fitting it around my waist and pulling it back. It fitted snugly to my hips, the padding stopping it from being uncomfortable. That was what it was for, then – to improve his purchase as he took me from the rear. Also to humiliate me, of course, in which it was successful, the first real pang of shame coming to me as he pulled it into place against my hips. I was unable to restrain a sigh as his hands gripped my jodhpurs and pulled them down. My torn panties were all that was left to cover me, but as I braced myself for the final exposure, he simply ripped the back away, giving immediate access to my pussy.
‘Spread,’ he rasped as he lifted my jacket tails.
I parted my thighs as far as my lowered jodhpurs would allow. I felt the sun on my bare skin and knew he could see everything: fanny, bumhole, the lot.
‘Cute,’ I heard him say and then felt his cock probing my hole.
I let out a whimper as it went in, drawing a satisfied laugh from him as he took hold of the yoke and slid himself up. I put my face and boobs back in the mud as he started to fuck me, utterly defeated and humiliated, accepting Rathwell’s cock inside me in a submissive ecstasy stronger even than when Henry had first used me as a pony-girl. It wasn’t just what was being done to me but, the fact that it was Morris Rathwell who had me yoked with my jodhpurs down and my pants torn aside; Morris Rathwell who had told me to kiss his feet and put my face in the mud; Morris Rathwell who was making my tits swing in the slime of the yard, and Morris Rathwell whose cock was sliding in and out of my creamy, willing vagina. I put my hand back and started to masturbate, knowing that everyone could see and feeling even better for it. He was pumping hard, slamming against my bottom with each push and making me gasp into my face-full of muck. Suddenly he pulled out and my bottom was sprayed with come, then his shaft was between my bum-cheeks, sliding up and down in his own sperm as he emptied himself between my open cheeks and over my anus. I was near orgasm myself and had also started to cry with the sheer overwhelming emotion of everything. He moved back, leaving me to masturbate, flaunting myself in front of him. My crying was the one thing I was determined he wouldn’t see, even as I knelt with my bum in the air and his come smeared into my anus and dribbling on to my fanny. He laughed; a harsh, cackling sound. I knew it was became I was masturbating myself with his semen in front of everybody; because I was totally unable to restrain my excitement after he had fucked me, and because it confirmed his conviction that I genuinely fancied him as a man.
I came then, when he laughed at me. At first it felt as if it was going to be enough to make me faint; a contraction of my muscles that had me gritting my teeth around a mouthful of slime. It was as if a great bubble was about to burst in my head, an agonising feeling that had me tearing at my clit with my fingertips. I peaked, but the deep sense of humiliation that had driven my whole need for orgasm was simply too much. My knees went weak and I slumped down in the filth.
Eight
Henry was furious with Rathwell and pretty well threw him off the farm. I wasn’t really so bothered, just totally exhausted and sore almost everywhere. Sure I had lost, but it had been one hell of a day, and Rathwe
ll’s face when I told him that I hadn’t actually been a virgin after all was something to behold. It had obviously been as big a deal to him as I had thought because his attitude of crowing triumph turned to pique on the spot.
The other thing that made me feel better was the attention I got afterwards. Everybody was solicitous towards me. Melody and Harmony cuddled and hugged me as if I had just joined some exclusive and very intimate club which, from their point of view, perhaps I had. Henry insisted on opening a bottle of ancient Armagnac, a typically Henry-like gesture which I nevertheless appreciated. Francis fussed round me like an old mother hen, fetching this and offering that. Susan was best though; she cuddled me and bathed me and told me I’d really turned her on and then cuddled me some more. I went to bed long before the others and woke up late on Monday morning, by which time my outlook on events had changed considerably.
Pleasure-wise, it was great, and I couldn’t help bringing myself off over it. I let my mind wander over what had happened and came over the thought of being put in the yoke which, for some reason, was especially humiliating. As before, the real trouble was my own response and the way Rathwell would see it. I knew that the less appealing the man – and the more shameful the circumstances – the more I’d have enjoyed it. Rathwell saw it as me getting over some sort of barrier to allow me to show how much I fancied him. Also, I knew he’d be unbearably self-satisfied. He’d tell his friends how I’d grovelled and obeyed him, how clever he’d been with his tactics, and how I’d made myself come at the end …
I wanted revenge. I desperately needed to win and make him suffer the same sort of indignity I had, and enjoy it. As I lay there brooding and thinking of the feel of his cock inside me and the yoke pressing against my hips I became more and more determined to challenge him again. A weak voice inside me kept raising objections, such as that if I did he’d undoubtedly demand to put that same skinny cock up my bottom. There was also a degree of self recrimination. If I’d had the sense not to get carried away with Melody, I’d have won easily. If Susan hadn’t started playing the fool at the end of her hour then Rathwell wouldn’t have finished. If only I’d considered the rules of pursuit-capture-punishment properly. In the end, though, it wasn’t that I’d lost so much as that Rathwell had won – twice. I needed revenge – badly.
