Uniform Doll

by Penny Birch

  ‘Maybe you should cane her, or use a strap?’

  ‘Maybe I should, but I’d rather not be testing her limits, just yet. I spanked her anyway, and pretty hard. She likes to lie over my knee while it’s done, so I took her to a secluded place she recommended, right up on the edge of the moor, by one of the china clay pits, an abandoned one, and half full of water. It was great, hot and sultry, very quiet, with just the buzz of insects and the occasional bird call as she undressed in front of me, then the ringing echoes of my hand on her bottom and her cries. Like before, she warmed really quickly, and once she was ready she got down between my knees to suck me hard, and sat on my cock, bouncing up and down with her hot little bottom-cheeks against my thighs.’

  ‘Lovely,’ I broke in. ‘Go on, take your cock out.’

  This time he didn’t hesitate, moving closer to the hammock to be absolutely sure he wasn’t in view from any other houses and handing me his glass as he freed his penis.

  ‘I’ll watch you,’ I said. ‘I’d like that. Go on.’

  He began to stroke himself, retrieving his glass of champagne for another sip before continuing.

  ‘She came like that,’ he said, ‘sat in my lap and rubbing at her pussy while she wiggled her bottom on me. It was glorious, and I’d have come if it had been the first time, and I’m not even sure if I could have held back from doing it up her. As it was, I had her sit down and did it between her titties, which are just big enough to fold round my cock, then fed her the spunk with my finger. By then we were both hot and sweaty, so we went in the pool. Someone saw us, actually, from the lip of the pit. A few minutes earlier and they’d have caught us fucking, or me with her over my knee.’

  ‘She’d have loved that, by the sound of it,’ I put in. ‘Hmm, you’re getting nice and big.’

  He was, with his cock almost erect in his hand and making a really lewd, meaty slapping sound as he tugged at it. It was ugly – cocks are – but I still wanted to watch. He turned a little, holding it out to me. I took it, gingerly, squeezing on the shaft to feel the silky flesh move over the hard, gristly core, which is just such an obscene sensation. I wasn’t as horny as when I’d first wanked him off, so I gave him a couple of tugs to be polite, no more.

  ‘She liked just being seen,’ he went on, taking his cock up again. ‘It was like a challenge to her. She even pulled herself out of the water, as if to dare them to disapprove, or to let them admire the view if they wanted to. They went away, out of embarrassment we assumed, but it really turned Sarah on. She wanted it again, and made a big show of towelling herself down, then rubbing in suntan cream. That was good, quite a show, and better when she got me to do her back and bottom. I could imagine their excitement, and jealousy, which I find quite a turn-on, but I didn’t feel comfortable about actually fucking her when people might see.

  ‘I couldn’t anyway, I was so drained, not like now. I could come just over the thought of Sarah lying there, with her bottom still a little bit pink and her legs just far enough apart to show the rear of her pussy. Look, er . . . if you want to?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll . . .’ I began, then changed my mind. ‘Oh what the hell.’

  I wouldn’t have felt comfortable bare, so I popped open the button of my combats and slid my hand down the front of my panties. My pussy was wet, and I soon had my finger burrowed down between my lips, rubbing my clitty as I waited for him to go on. I shut my eyes, purring as I masturbated.

  ‘Sarah was getting more and more turned on,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure it was because we were being watched, whatever she said. I’d put plenty of cream on her, but she didn’t want me to stop, enjoying having her back massaged, her neck especially, that and her bum. It was getting to me too, two orgasms or not, but my cock didn’t really want to respond.

  ‘Her legs came further apart as I massaged her, until I could get my hand down between her thighs, to stroke her pussy. I put a finger in, and she pushed her bottom up, making the crease part with a sticky sound. Her hole was still dry, and so tempting, so neat and small, just dying to be touched. I put cream on it, and she just sighed, lifting it higher. I’d meant to wait, before really exploring her anus, but I couldn’t resist. I rubbed the cream in, slowly, not sure how she’d react, circling the hole, putting the top joint of my finger in. She gave the sweetest little moan at that, a sob really, and began to tug at my cock again. I put my finger up, right up, wiggling it to open her, until her hole was sloppy and loose. By then my cock was hard.’

  ‘You didn’t . . . you didn’t bugger her?’

  ‘I did, in among some bushes. We never said a word, either of us, we just knew it was going to happen. I took her hand, and led her in behind a clump of bushes. She went down, trembling like anything, with her buttocks up and that juicy, creamy little hole showing for me. I put my cock in, all the way, buggering her as she sobbed and shivered underneath me. She even cried a little, but she let me, all the way, until I came in her, Jade, up her bottom . . .

  ‘Ah, that is good, too good . . . May I . . . please, just pop it in your mouth?’

  ‘No . . . Yes. Do it.’

  I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look. Something rubbery nudged against my lips. There was a moment of shock, revulsion too, then my mouth was open and it was going in, his cock, in my mouth, deep in, until I was sucking on the fat shaft with my head full of the taste of man. He’d got it right, judging the moment when I’d let him, and asking too.

  I might have been sucking, but I wasn’t going to be a good girl, like Sarah, and let him spunk in my mouth, then swallow it all dutifully down. I was going to be a bad girl, and make him do it in his hand. Then it had happened. No warning, no nothing. One moment my mouth was full of cock and the taste of man, the next a mouthful, of salty, slimy sperm had been ejaculated down my throat. Rupert groaned, trying to push his cock deeper in. I gagged, pulling back, to cough up my filthy mouthful, all over his cock, then the ground, spitting and gagging with my head hung over the side of the hammock.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  There was nothing to say to answer that, except to look up with what I sincerely hope was an expression of reproach, but was probably spoiled by the long stream of sperm hanging from my chin.

  So he’d buggered Sarah, and was well pleased with himself. All the way home I kept getting pictures of her with her bottom lifted and the hole all slimy with suntan lotion, then with him mounted on her, his cock up her bottom. It’s just such a dirty thing to do to a girl, and Sarah looked so sweet, so natural. One thing was obvious, which was that Rupert was falling in love with her. Not that it had stopped him sticking his cock in my mouth, but that’s just men.

  I didn’t mind. There was something dirty about our relationship, wonderfully dirty, and honest too. It wasn’t just that he was my supposed uncle either, but more the way we did it, his cock out, my hand down my panties, happily masturbating while we told each other filthy stories. It was so much the opposite of what women are supposed to want, the right man, Mr Perfect, who’ll come along and sweep them off their feet, saving them the trouble of having to work, or worry, or think. I hate that, and anyone who tells me it’s not true in the new millennium only needs to go and read a bit of chick lit. That or watch a Hollywood romance, with all those prudish, up-tight women who’re supposed to be our role models. Bollocks. I want it rude, dirty, with three girls in leather holding my head down a toilet while I’m fisted and frigged off from the rear. Or, if I must have a man, then let him tell me that he wants to wank over my tits and bum, make me suck his gross cock, or stick it up my bumhole. That’s the truth, after all.

  After my unexpected mouthful of sperm, and not having come myself, I was in a funny mood. I couldn’t stop thinking about girls taking cocks up their bums. Most men want to do it, to me anyway, and I suppose most girls end up getting it. So far I’d resisted. I intended to keep doing so, but there was a sort of horrible inevitability about it. My excuse had always been that it simply wouldn’t fit, but Mo h
ad put the dildo up me, so I knew a cock would go too.

  I’d have masturbated on the bus if it hadn’t been so crowded, I was that horny. As it was I did it in my flat, face down on the bed with a hairbrush stuck up my bum, imagining myself being buggered. The fantasy was simple. Greece, where I’d been on holiday, and two men talking me into a fucking when I was unable to pay a restaurant bill. Only they wouldn’t fuck me. Once they’d got me tied to the table with my bikini pants pulled down and my boobs in a pool of spilt beer, they’d take it in turns up my bum.

  It was a good orgasm, but left me fidgety, unsure what I should do with myself. In the end I walked down to the cyber café, on the off chance someone had replied to one of my ads. They had, two obvious time wasters and another, not a policewoman, not even a single woman, but a couple, and she was a prison warden.

  The suggestion was that she dominate me while he watched. Normally I wouldn’t have bothered, but a chance at a female prison warden’s uniform was seriously tempting. It was fairly rare, fairly risky, and hopefully both old-fashioned and formal. It was also a pet fantasy of mine, being abused in a prison cell, which seemed to be more or less what they intended.

  The message looked genuine, but I still intended to be cautious. After all, I had no evidence that she even existed, and I’d heard enough stories of girls going to meet ‘couples’, only to find that the female partner was conveniently indisposed. I replied anyway, sending a picture of myself holding an orange in my left hand and demanding that they did the same.

  What came back sealed it for me. It showed her, in the uniform, younger than I’d expected, and pretty enough, but very severe, tall too, maybe even six foot, as well as I could judge. Her hair was up in a tight bun, adding to the image, while the uniform was great, better even than I’d imagined. It was a long dress, steel-grey, belted at the waist, with a simple insignia at either shoulder, absolutely plain and absolutely severe. She had the orange, and she also had a reproving look on her face. The text said simply that I’d earned myself a severe punishment for doubting her word.

  Two days later I had the meet set up for the following weekend. They were in Stevenage, which was easy enough for me, and we were supposed to meet in a pub, as neutral ground. Still cautious, I arrived a little late, to find them sitting in the beer garden. She was casually dressed, with her hair down, but unmistakable. He was very ordinary, mid-thirties, average height, with a beard and beer belly. Telling myself that he’d only be watching, I stepped boldly forwards.

  It worked from the start. She was called Andrea, her boyfriend Mark. There was sexual tension between she and I immediately, while he had the sense to let us get on with it, friendly, but not obtrusive. Within half-an-hour I knew I was going to do it, and within an hour I was back at their house, slightly light headed from the beer I’d drunk, and ready to play.

  They were well into it, and had even converted their spare room into a cell, and very realistically. There was an old-fashioned bed, the iron painted the same dull grey as the walls, the mattress thin and covered with threadbare blankets. A tatty chest of drawers, a wooden chair and a sink completed the appointments, along with a huge pot pushed halfway under the bed. That was all. It was enough. It was perfect. Even the door looked authentic, while the CCTV camera high in one corner made a nice touch. It also meant I was going to be filmed.

  ‘You’re going to vid the scene?’ I asked, nodding up to it.

  ‘Sure,’ Andrea answered. ‘That’s how Mark watches, most of the time. You won’t even know he’s there. There’s a digicam too, there.’

  She pointed to what looked like a discoloration on the wall, but sure enough, concealed a tiny lens. I’d get my photo.

  ‘Okay,’ I answered, ‘but nothing on the net, not with my face.’

  ‘We wouldn’t, don’t worry. You looked at our site, didn’t you?’

  ‘No, you never sent the URL.’

  ‘You can, if you want. We do put pictures of the punishments up, sometimes, but no vid.’

  ‘The captures aren’t good enough anyway,’ Mark put in. ‘I like it perfect, or nothing.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I answered. ‘I’ll look later. I want to see your uniform, Andrea.’

  ‘You will,’ she promised. ‘Right, Mark, out, set the computer up. Jade, with me.’

  We went into the next room, where she opened a big wardrobe, pulling out a plain dress in some coarse, grey-blue material and throwing it to me.

  ‘This ought to fit,’ she said. ‘Try it.’

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, holding up the hideous thing, a dress, but shapeless and plain, also quite short.

  ‘Prison clothes,’ she answered.

  I’d already twigged, and was staring at the thing with my glands doing their best to knock the top off my head. It had to be real, presumably pinched from the prison laundry, and just the thought of being punished while wearing it was enough to make me want to come. Not only was it going to be a truly humiliating thing to wear, but some genuine inmate would have worn it before, maybe several.

  Andrea had pulled out her uniform, one from among several in the wardrobe, and was holding it up to her front. I swallowed, hard, to see in the flesh what I had seen in the picture. We dressed, hurriedly, both keen to get into the scene. I finished first, having little to do except strip to bra and panties and pull the horrid little smock over my head. For Andrea it was more complicated, with a petticoat, girdle and seamed stockings on underneath, along with big, white cotton panties. I was already picturing the ensemble on one of Rupert’s mannequins.

  I was already shaking as she finished, coiling her hair into a tight bun. Casually dressed, in jeans and a skinny top, with her long, dark blonde hair loose, she had looked so normal. Not now. The transformation was extraordinary, street girl to stern, sadistic warden, and if our scene wasn’t real, then she was.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, smiling and reaching out to take me by the hand. ‘We need to set out our limits here. How much do you like being smacked around?’

  ‘I can take quite a lot on my bum. I don’t mind my thighs too much, or a gentle titty whipping.’

  ‘What about your face?’

  ‘Well . . . not really. A few slaps perhaps, but nothing to bruise.’

  ‘Sure. You’d better have a stop word then. Make it clemency.’

  ‘Clemency, fine.’

  ‘Okay, like I said, we try to make it as real as possible, the whole thing. Right, Mark, we’re on.’

  We were in the passage, and she had called out the last remark towards another room, where I could see the pale light of a computer screen through the half-open door.

  ‘I’m there,’ he called back. ‘Go for it.’

  ‘In,’ Andrea ordered, and jerked me towards the cell door.

  I went, and she followed. The camera swivelled, purring, but I ignored it, in role, turning to her.

  ‘Right you little bitch,’ she snapped, and slapped me in the face.

  The smack caught me totally by surprise, full across one cheek, hard. I went down, gasping, to my knees, and her hand twisted into my hair. My head was jerked back, my hand going instinctively to my cheek. She gave me another, backhanded, across the other side.

  ‘Ow!’ I protested.

  ‘Shut up,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve had this coming a long time.’

  She wrenched at my hair, sending me sprawling on the floor, my bottom towards her, my hands still up to my smarting face. Her toe caught me, a hard kick, in the fat of my bottom, and another, on my thigh. I gasped in pain, trying to roll away. The grip in my hair tightened, her boot thudding into my bottom again, twice. Her hand snatched down, jerking up my skirt, high, over my bum, and higher, up around my waist, jerked over my boobs. My bra came up with it, one cup all the way, to flop a boob out, the other halfway, to leave the flesh bulging out below the wire. Her grip twisted tighter, rolling me onto my back.

  I was panting, my face burning, my bottom and thighs smarting. Andrea stood over me, gloating
down at my body, her face set in a hard sneer. She spat suddenly in my face, catching my nose and one eye. My mouth came open in disgust and got spat in. I looked up at her through my one clear eye, swallowing.

  She hit me in the face, a hard open slap, making me scream. Another caught me, and a third, knocking my head to one side, then the other. I cried out in pain, gasping to the sudden shocks, putting my hands up to protect my face. She laughed, and dropped my head.

  ‘Slut! Bitch!’ she swore, and set to work.

  She really beat me up, slapping and kicking at my body as I rolled on the floor, always the fat bits, but hard. My bottom and legs really did get a good kicking, the toes and heels of her boots jabbing into my flesh again and again, until I was screaming and grovelling on the floor. My boobs weren’t spared either, or my face, slapped over and over, until my flesh was an angry red, stinging furiously, my nipples hard and aching. She pulled both boobs out, fully, and put a boot on my stomach while she slapped them, holding my wrists in one hand, and smacking, harder and harder, mercilessly, until I was dizzy with pain, writhing under her foot. They got spat on too, repeatedly, until the hot, red flesh was running with spittle.

  My face was done next, slapped harder and harder, until I was gasping with the pain, frantically shaking my head from side to side to escape the smacks. She didn’t let go, pulling at my hair, calling me a bitch, a slut and worse as the stinging slaps came in, until finally it was too much and I was screaming for clemency. She stopped, immediately, gave a snort of contempt and spat in my open eye.

  ‘Over,’ she ordered, and kicked my thigh.

  I went, bottom up, lifting it to what I knew was coming. She gave a harsh laugh and kicked me again. My panties were wrenched down and off, leaving me nude from boobs to boots. My hand went back between my thighs, finding my pussy swollen and wet. I lay on the floor, my breathing deep and even, and began to masturbate. My bruises hurt, my face felt swollen, my boobs too, but she’d got it right, because I was there almost as soon as I touched my clit.