by Penny Birch
Unfortunately it just wasn’t possible. The idea of forcing them was ridiculous, and I’d have felt far too bad about it anyway. Well, bad about some things. If I’d had the strength to do it I’d have given them their spankings, like it or not. Not that it mattered. Any one of them could handle me with ease.
Then there was the question of what they’d do to me afterwards. That ruled out possibilities such as sucking up to a really powerful girl, like Big Angie the bouncer, until she was friendly enough to do my dirty work for me. It might have worked, and physically she would have had no trouble at all, spanking them like the bullying brats they were. Unfortunately I wouldn’t be able to rely on her protection all the time, and in due course they’d get their revenge, and it would be truly awful.
Another irritation was the nagging voice at the back of my head, which kept telling me that they’d actually been rather good to me, and that I should be grateful. They knew I liked to be dominated, and they’d obliged. True, they wouldn’t always accept my limits, but in a sense that was just because they set the limits just that little bit further than I did. After all, why should they accept my choices?
They hadn’t done anything really awful either, like giving me to a man for a fucking, or taking me into a park and making me suck off drunks. I’d heard of submissive girls being made to do both those things, and the thought put a cold knot of fear in my stomach.
I still wanted revenge, and I spent hours thinking about it, on my bed, and afterwards, wandering around the flat in just a top, with my poor smacked bottom well covered in cream. My cheeks were very red, and quite bruised, from Zoe’s trainers, which made it impossible to forget how it had been done.
When I eventually went to bed I was still thinking about it. Not coherently though, but merely pouting and resentful, powerless to act effectively, but fantasising about how they’d look taken one by one across some really big woman’s knee. Mo came to my mind, but then I’d pinched her dress uniform, and it was far more likely to be me who ended up getting the spanking, so that was out.
In any case, unless I managed to establish some sort of authority over the girls it would be next to impossible to get them to submit, short of brute force. I doubted Mo would have done it. Then it hit me. Andrea. She was perfect, less solid than Mo, but six foot tall, which gave her two inches even on AJ. She’d be game too, I was sure of it. She liked dressing up and she liked spanking girls. Better yet, she was bisexual, but had nothing to do with the London lesbian scene. We’d talked at length, and she didn’t know anybody.
I thought it through in the morning, so that by the time the cyber café opened I had it all worked out. I was going to get the girls one at a time, three at once being just too much to ask. Naomi would be first, then Sam, AJ last, in the order I resented the way they’d treated me. That way, if they got wise to the scheme I’d at least have got some satisfaction. Not that I expected them to tell each other. What I had in mind would be far too humiliating.
I emailed Andrea, packing all my enthusiasm into the message and more or less promising myself as her sex slave for life if she’d help. I even told the truth, except for the minor lie of saying that what happened would be the favourite fantasy of her victims. I sent it off with a prayer, then checked my inbox, which contained more rubbish, including another from the mad spunk-feeder.
The rest of the day was spent in serious frustration and endless cups of coffee at the café. Again and again there were no messages, until just before it closed, when there were two. One was from Andrea and Mark, eager to meet, the other from Uncle Rupert, asking me to call him as soon as I could. That meant he had rung my flat in the last few minutes, so I replied to Andrea, suggesting she come down on Saturday, and hurried back.
Rupert was seriously excited, thoroughly pleased too, and talking so fast that it took me a moment to catch on to what he was saying. The Saturday wasn’t even mentioned, and Sarah only to say that he’d just put her on a train. What had happened was that he had another good response to his dodgy lonely hearts ads, and that it was from a nurse. Not only that, but it had come through an SM site and she was up for spanking and role play. The problem was that she was only willing to meet couples, and that was where I came in. I accepted, more than happy to take on something that wasn’t going to end up with me at the bottom of the heap.
The date was already arranged, for the Wednesday, when we’d be picking her up directly from the care home in Romford where she worked. Rupert was sure she’d be in uniform, and that it would just be a matter of teasing her into a few rude photos, perhaps with me. We’d then spoil her uniform, pay for it along with profuse apologies and that would be that, our nurse.
She was called Heather, and she was everything we could have wanted, about five foot six, dark-haired, as wholesome as Sarah, but with a gentleness about her face that seemed at odds with her desire to indulge in dirty role-playing games. We met as agreed, outside the block of flats she worked in, where we waited in the car, with Rupert holding the little photo of her he had downloaded from the net.
We recognised her at once, and sure enough, she was in uniform, a uniform that had Rupert drooling. It was pale blue gingham, knee length, with a white belt and collar, very smart and formal, complete with a little white cap and shoulder tabs with the name of the company she worked for. That made Rupert tut, saying he would have preferred NHS, but I told him not to be so pedantic, opening the car door as she approached.
‘Heather?’ I queried, just in case there were two girls who looked the same working there. ‘Hi, I’m Jade.’
‘Rupert,’ Rupert put in as he climbed out from his side. ‘How are you?’
‘In need of a drink,’ she answered, her accent soft, with a hint of Irish mixed with the London.
‘A drink it is,’ Rupert said.
He took over from there, beautifully, setting her completely at her ease while I chatted merrily and filled in the gaps. We had it all worked out, with military precision, the result of a busy Tuesday night over a bottle of wine and an A to Z, ending as usual with his cock in my mouth.
She had a bag with her, and wanted to change in the car, but I put a stop to that by snogging her, quickly making her lose interest. She responded well too, and from then on I knew we were going to work sexually, whatever else happened.
We drove out to Epping Forest, for our drink, which in her case was Irish whiskey, drunk straight and in doubles. After three we could probably have had her in the bar, and her hands were all over Rupert, and me too. When we eventually left she and I were giggling together, our arms around each other’s waists, ready for play. Rupert was stone cold sober, having wisely stuck to orange juice, but high on what we were doing.
It was up to me to suggest the naughty photo session in the woods, which I did. Heather accepted with enthusiasm. So it was deep into the Forest for a thoroughly rude photoset, with Rupert on camera and Heather and I provid the smut. I was in a dress, which we’d felt would be right for Rupert’s supposed young girlfriend, so first it was skirts up, flashing our panties with out bottoms stuck out to the camera. Bare bums followed, panties down, then off, before her boobs came out, with her uniform open at the front and her bra pulled off down one sleeve. They were lovely, round and firm, maybe half the size of mine but hardly small, with lovely big nipples, just right to suck. I did, Rupert snapping away as I took them in my mouth, one by one.
That really had her going, and nothing would do but to get mine out too, which meant unzipping my dress and letting it down to my waist. My bra seemed pointless like that, so off it came and I was topless, for her to suckle. I got my bottom spanked after that, bent over a low branch with my boobs swinging, giggling crazily as my cheeks bounced to her slaps. She got the same, then both of us, side my side, snogging as Rupert fondled and smacked at our bottoms.
It was only when it was actually happening that I realised I was getting my first ever spanking from him, something I hadn’t meant to give. It was too late though, as I could hardly back out i
n front of her, and he was obviously oblivious to anything but having two plump female bottoms to chastise. We got it too, quite hard, with my cheeks rosy and warm before he’d finished, while my pussy was very wet indeed.
Spanked and hornier than ever, we started to pose again, showing everything. Rupert continued to photograph us, in one lewd pose after another, then natural as our passion got the better of us. We came together, kissing and fondling each other’s bodies, until I got completely carried away and pushed my face into her pussy. She let me lick, climaxing with a lovely soft sigh and a boob in either hand.
By then Rupert’s cock was in his hand, rock hard as he took pictures one handed. What I wasn’t going to do was end up with it up my pussy, so I suggested he fuck her while I took the pictures. She went willingly, leaning on the low branch she’d just been spanked across, with her uniform skirt turned up over her bum and her big boobs bulging out at the front, a truly excellent nurse shot, quickly made better still as Rupert entered her from the rear. It didn’t take him long, and he came over her bottom, so I took a last photo, the same rude pose, only with her pussy fully on show between her thighs and a spatter of white come across her buttocks. She was looking back too, her pretty face loose with her pleasure. I could already see the picture on its little stand in front of the mannequin.
I might not have wanted to be fucked, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t come. I had Heather do it, squatting to lick me with my pussy pushed out in her face, much as I’d done her, on which dirty show Rupert finished the third roll of film. Rupert was ready for more, but the light was starting to fade and I suggested we head back into London and get down to fully indulging our fantasies. Heather agreed, and we dressed with nervous haste, giggling as we made each other decent.
The drive to Highgate was hectic, with Heather and I cuddling in the back and Rupert doing his best to concentrate on the road. We still had no idea what she wanted us to do, but there was no question of not playing together, and I was sure we’d be able to accommodate her.
At Rupert’s the first thing she did was change out of her uniform and into casual clothes, a baggy jumper and tight blue jeans that made the best of her full bottom. The uniform went into her bag, which was pushed casually into a corner. Rupert had been busy with a bottle while she changed, aside from an occasional pause to ogle her body, and put three glasses down beside it as she took a seat.
‘So what are you into?’ I asked. ‘Medical fetishism?’
‘Anything but!’ she answered. ‘I couldn’t possibly do anything that reminded me of work. All the time I have to be responsible. I like to lose that, completely, just for a few hours.’
‘How so?’ Rupert asked.
Heather had gone pink, which was quite something for a girl who’d just giggled as a photo of her smacked bottom was taken from about a foot away. She took a gulp of wine, swallowing before her mouth curled up into a nervous smile.
‘Pigs,’ she said softly.
‘Pigs?’ I echoed.
‘Not real pigs,’ she said quickly. ‘Being a pig, a piggy-girl. That’s why I asked about the mud in my email. Look.’
She reached back for her bag, pulling it close and burrowing inside. I caught a glimpse of black leather, which she pulled out, then a pink object, and a second. The leather I recognised, a head harness, if not quite like the ones I’d seen worn in clubs. For the other two things it took my mind a moment to register before I realised that one was a tail, the other a snout, both cleverly made in flesh-tone rubber. I’d never heard of it before, but I could imagine it, and I could imagine it being done to me, and how utterly humiliating it would be. Heather was looking shy and I gave her a big smile in an effort to reassure her, determined not to behave like AJ and company.
‘That is terribly sweet,’ Rupert said. ‘We’d love to play with you, wouldn’t we, Jade?’
‘Sure,’ I answered. ‘So, you stick the snout and tail on, and wear the harness. Anything else?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘A piggy-girl should be completely nude except for her harness.’
‘This is fancy,’ I said, picking it up. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘It’s custom made,’ she answered, ‘by a woman in Hertfordshire, Amber Oakley. She made the snout and tail too.’
‘Cool! I want her address.’
‘Fine, I’ll give it to you.’
She wrote it down on the spot and I pocketed it, already picturing how Sam or Naomi would look as a piggy-girl in a club, preferably with an audience composed of all their friends and a few dozen dirty old men. Not that I could think how to make it happen, but it was nice to dream.
We finished the wine and got down to it. Rupert, now in gumboots, took us into the garden, carrying Heather’s bag for her in a show of supposed gallantry, and showed her the area that was invisible from the other houses. He had the security lights on, and it was brightly lit. I got into the hammock, watching as she quite calmly stripped off, stark naked, while Rupert used the hose to turn the area under his big poplar into a sea of sandy mud.
She had explained that she liked to be beaten with a switch, and he made one from three long suckers as she glued on her snout and tail. The tail was cute, and rude, accentuating her bottom in the most wonderful way, so that her cheeks seemed plumper, and basically, more piggy. The same was true of the snout, making her face seem rounder and altering the lines so much I wasn’t sure if I’d have recognised her. Rupert had reloaded the camera, and I took a few more photos of her standing, then crawling.
I could sense her feelings as she went down, the release, the gloriously irresponsibility of a sexually submissive role. It was rude too, very rude, with her big boobs hanging down like a pair of udders and the little tail waving above her nude bum, with her pussy and anus on show and just begging to be filled. She had told us we could do anything we liked, subject to her stop word, and I intended to make the best of it.
For the time being I was content to watch and take photos. Rupert had finished his switch, and gave her a couple of flicks across the breadth of her bottom to test it. Both left long red lines, drawing little high-pitched squeals from her, which left me grinning in sadistic delight. She stuck her bottom up, wiggling it to make her tail move, a sight that had me wishing I had something to fill her with.
Rupert gave her another stroke, harder, and stood back, calling her a bad pig and telling her to come to him. She crawled away, further into the mud, ducking down to rub her boobs in it, with her snout twitching up and a big smile on her face. Rupert came closer, flicking the switch out to catch her bottom again.
‘Bad girl! Not in the mud!’ he ordered, but Heather only sank herself deeper in, rubbing her boobs in the mess and wiggling her bottom right at him.
He smacked her again and she rose, her breasts pulling out of the ooze with a sucking sound, to leave twin marks in the soil and drops of muddy water hanging from her erect nipples. Again she went down, rubbing herself in the mud, rolling, legs wide to show off her pussy, right over, before sitting up to wiggle her cheeky bottom into the cool, wet earth. She was covered in it, from the neck down, slimy and brown, with clots of earth stuck to her skin and her thick black pubic hair caked with dirt.
She was enjoying it so much, nude and free and filthy, without a trace of the humiliation I’d have felt in her position. I felt a trace of envy, and found I wanted to get in with her, to be twin pigs in the mud pool, but without a snout or tail I wasn’t sure if I could.
Rupert had stopped trying to control her, and was watching her wallow. She was rolling, her whole body brown and filthy except for the pink opening of her pussy, even her face, which she’d pushed into the mud, and her hair, which was thick with in. I swallowed the lump that had been rising in my throat, again thinking of how I’d feel in her place, or with her. It meant stripping in front of Rupert, which I wasn’t sure about, but I wasn’t sure if I could hold off either.
He had begun to squeeze his crotch, and it was easy to imagine him getting carrie
d away and fucking us both, or porking us, which seemed to be the right term if we were piggy-girls. I didn’t want that, I was sure of it. Sucking him was one thing, just a friendly duty – fucking another, while there was also the uncomfortable knowledge that my bumhole would be available and slimy with mud. I was under no illusions about what he liked to do to girls’ bumholes, and I wasn’t certain if he’d hold back from mine, or if I’d stop him when I was close to orgasm.
To delay my decision I took some more pictures of Heather wallowing in the mud. She was thick with it and kept dipping her boobs and bum in, to pull them out with a rude sucking noise. I could see it felt good, and was determined to have a go myself, eventually, when I wasn’t going to end up with Rupert’s cock up my pussy or bumhole.
We watched her wallow, both of us entranced, just enjoying the show, until she turned with her muddy bottom lifted towards us, the pink mouth of her pussy showing in open invitation. That was too much for Rupert. He reached down to open his fly, pulling out a half-stiff cock. He stepped close and I took it in my hand, tugging at the shaft.
‘Fuck her,’ I suggested. ‘How can you resist that pussy?’
‘I’m not going to resist it,’ he answered. ‘Help me, wash her down.’
I rolled out of the hammock, suddenly urgent. Snatching up the hose, I twisted the nozzle, sending a gush of water out, full across Heather’s spread cheeks. She squealed in surprise, turning. I moved the stream, playing it on her tits, exposing the pale pink skin as the water spattered off her body.
Rupert had taken the harness, and was undoing the buckles, his fingers fumbling in his urgency, with his cock and balls still sticking out of his fly. I moved closer, to take him in my hand again, wincing at the obscene rubbery feeling of male genitals, but stroking anyway, like a good girl should. For a moment I was distracted, and the hose caught Heather in the face, leaving her spluttering.
There were no complaints, and I continued to play the water over her body, wanking Rupert at the same time, until she was pink and clean and he was hard in my hand. She turned her back to us, sticking out her broad bottom, the big white cheeks splayed to show herself off, blatantly on offer, with the little tail bobbing over her crease. I twisted the nozzle shut and picked up the switch, eager to give her what I hoped she wanted. Rupert stepped in with the harness as I put a cut across Heather’s piggy buttocks. She squealed, wriggling her bottom. I gave her another cut as Rupert took her by the hair, and paused, waiting as he began to buckled her into the harness. It certainly held her, with two straps behind her head and another over the top, linking to a cleverly made cage of straps and brass fittings that closed her mouth and covered her nose. He fixed each buckle into place, leaving only one, her chin strap, which allowed him to briefly stuff his erect cock into her mouth before completing her bondage.
