The Choice

by Monica Belle

  I felt the blood rise to my face again as she spoke, but tried to hide my reaction behind my hands.

  Violet gave me a wan smile, perhaps through her own embarrassment, perhaps as a reaction to mine. She went on. ‘When I first saw it I thought it would just be a collections of cartoons from L’Assiette au Beurre or something, but I had to check, and when he went to talk to somebody at the door in the middle of a tutorial I sneaked a peek. It was a collection of Malteste’s spanking drawings, just those, from several different volumes and some of them damaged, but beautifully displayed.’

  ‘So it was obvious what he was into?’

  ‘Exactly, and he was just the man for me, older and in authority. Even from my boyfriend it always took me somewhere I couldn’t reach with normal sex, but from an older man, who had authority over me …’

  She trailed off with a little shiver of pleasure, but sounded more than a little apologetic as she carried on. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have come on to him, but I had to. Anyway, a lot of first-year girls fancy their tutors, at least when they look like James, and there’s nothing wrong with it, is there? It’s not as if I was at school, after all, so …’

  She spread her hands and shrugged, a gesture of guilty resignation.

  ‘So you seduced him?’

  ‘Yes, and believe me, he tried to resist. I was awful. At first I thought I should just make it plain that I was available, because I prefer the man to take the lead, so I’d turn up to tutorials in tiny skirts and generally show off. When he didn’t take any notice I started to find ways to slip references to corporal punishment into my essays. He still didn’t take any notice, but I could see I was getting to him …’

  ‘How could you tell?’

  ‘Easy. He’d get a whacking big erection during tutorials. I wanted to get it out and play with it, and he knew, so you can imagine what the tension was like. There’s another picture, by an unknown artist from the 1950s, which shows a girl sitting on a sofa with her skirt turned up and her knickers around her ankles while she pulls on a man’s cock. You can see the turn of her bottom and the flushed skin where she’s been spanked. I used to imagine it was us.’

  ‘And you told him?’

  ‘No. I was late one day, on purpose, and suggested I deserved a spanking. He gave me a lecture, pointing out to me that it was not only inappropriate but illegal and that I’d have to go to a different tutor. I broke down, telling him that I loved him and that I needed to be punished by him, all the stuff I’d been building up for weeks. He still wouldn’t give in, but he admitted he wanted to do it, and after that there was really no going back. I pretended I’d accepted his decision, but now that we both knew we could talk about it, which used to drive me crazy, and him. He could have had me at any time, but we still managed to hold off, until ninth week.’

  ‘When you were no longer in his care?’

  ‘Exactly. I met him in the High and he took me to lunch. We both knew it was going to happen, I think, but I must have pointed out that we were no longer pupil and tutor but simply man and woman at least a dozen times before he finally told me that I was an unbearable little flirt, a brat, and a lot more, and that I was going to get what I deserved. After that I swear he could have done me then and there, in the Westgate bar, and I wouldn’t have minded. Fortunately he had more common sense, and drove me out to the woods where we’d be safe.’

  She paused, smiling at the memory, then went on. ‘We found a stile at the edge of a wood, perfect for outdoor spankings. He did me there, in the classic style, over his knee with my skirt turned up and my knickers pulled down. That probably just seems weird to you, but it felt wonderful, perfect, not just horny, but completely right. I suppose you think I need to see a therapist?’

  She glanced at me, seeking confirmation.

  ‘No. I understand, sort of … maybe. Carry on.’

  ‘He spanked me really hard, and I do mean hard, taking out all his frustrations on my bottom, and maybe even trying to put me off, because I think he knew that if it became a regular thing we wouldn’t be able to stop. My bottom was blazing by the end and, believe me, it really hurt, but he wasn’t finished with me. He took me deeper into the woods, pulling me along by the hand with my bum still bare. I was made to strip, naked, and make myself a birch, with the handle tied with the ribbon from my hair, and whipped. Then he made me say thank you.’

  I knew how, only too well, setting my stomach fluttering uncontrollably as I imagined her sucking on his cock in the woods, naked at his feet with her whipped bottom stuck out behind.

  Again she looked at me, her mouth curving up into a little wry smile as she saw the flush on my neck and chest and my erect nipples.

  There was a new tone to her voice as she continued. ‘That was the first time I’d been birched or taken anything other than a hand spanking. Sometimes there’s a point, when you’re being punished, when you can’t imagine how you could ever have been mad enough or stupid enough to want what you’re getting. It was like that when he birched me, but once I’d got past that barrier it was bliss.’

  I wanted to admit that I’d seen, and done it to myself, but didn’t dare, while she was still talking.

  ‘After that, well … It’s like an addiction. I always needed it, but the more I got the more I needed and the more dependent I grew, until if I don’t get a good spanking every two or three days and something heavier once a month or so I feel as if I’m going out of my mind. He’s the same, but he’s stronger than I am, and he had more to lose. In the Trinity term he took me out to the woods several times, always a long way from Oxford, but I wanted more and his resolve began to break down. He started giving me little pats during tutes, then playful punishments, first with my skirt held up for a few slaps on the seat of my knickers, then bare over the knee. Unfortunately, spanking is rather noisy, and he couldn’t give me what I needed, so I asked for the birch instead, suggesting that I could pick some twigs as part of a flower arrangement, so that they’d be ready in a vase and nobody would realise what we were up to.’

  ‘But you got caught?’

  ‘Yes, we got caught, by James’ scout. He must have heard something, or even seen something, and he assumed I was being abused, so he let himself and the junior dean in with his pass key, right in the middle of a session!’

  ‘I heard.’

  ‘Oh. I’d hoped the rumours might have died down by now, but obviously not. Anyway, you obviously know what happened, and I’d rather not talk about that bit.’

  ‘OK, but you stayed with James?’

  ‘We were apart for nearly a year, but we both need each other too badly to stop, even though he tried to break away.’

  ‘Is that why you row?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s passed now. He’s managed to find enough work to keep going and, as you guessed, I get spanked and birched, and other things. So what did you overhear exactly?’

  ‘The two of you talking, strange noises I couldn’t make sense of, but I guessed he was doing something kinky to you, because he sounded calm and you, you didn’t. And …’ I was going to admit it. I couldn’t hold back. ‘And I peeped, through the keyhole. I … saw you getting the birch, with James in his gown, and I saw you saying thank you.’

  Her mouth had come open in shock and she’d gone pink with embarrassment, but there was no anger in her words as she replied, only a stern, no-nonsense tone. ‘You did, did you? Well, I think we all know what ought to be done to you, Poppy Miller!’

  12

  I WAS GOING to be spanked, but I couldn’t simply give in. My pride wouldn’t let me, and, however much I wanted it, and however much it turned me on, I was also a little frightened and more than a little ashamed of my own desire. At a deeper level I knew full well that the experience would be stronger by far if I had to be talked into it or, better still, just dealt with out of hand so that I could at least avoid the hideous embarrassment of admitting I wanted it, especially to James.

  Had Violet simply done me then and there on the
beach, it would have been a different matter. I was naked and aroused, while we were completely alone. She could have rolled me over and sat on me, or made me lie across her lap, and I’d have surrendered with no more than token resistance. Yet even then I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it, and before she took matters into her own hands we heard James’ voice calling from the cliff above us.

  I could only see his head, and he was a long way above us, but I immediately found myself blushing for my nudity and scrambling into my bikini as fast as I could, which made Violet laugh. He beckoned for us to come up and Violet gathered her things before taking me by the hand and leading me up the path. I felt small and insecure, both thrilled and scared by the idea that I was expected to take a punishment he would know about, maybe even to have it done in front of him, or worst, and best, of all, by him. As we approached the top of the path my nerve failed.

  ‘You’re not going to tell him, are you? About what you told me, and what …’

  She laughed, cutting me off. ‘Don’t you think you deserve it, Poppy?’

  ‘No … yes, I suppose I do … maybe … but seriously, Violet, I’m not sure …’

  ‘Just relax.’

  That was easier said than done, especially as I was sure James would notice the state I was in when we reached the house. He was putting the shopping away; French bread that smelled hot and ready, meats and cheese in paper wrappers, bottles of a local cider.

  Violet showed no mercy at all, throwing her clothes onto a settee, kissing him and then coming straight out with a sentence that set my face and chest ablaze with embarrassment. ‘The little brat peeped at us. We’re going to spank her.’

  ‘Hey, hang on …’

  I stopped, nonplussed, my face crimson, as he looked up in surprise. ‘Do you like to be spanked, Poppy?’

  Violet answered before I could find my voice. ‘Yes, she does. It makes her horny.’

  Suddenly I was babbling. ‘No it doesn’t! I’ve never been spanked in my life, and I’m not about to start. Come on, you two, I know you like it, but … but, I don’t know … I mean, I do have some self-respect!’

  James closed the refrigerator door and stood up. Violet had been going to say something, maybe to point out that she had plenty of self-respect, and I was already feeling bad for what I’d said, but he silenced her with a gesture, turning to me as he spoke, his voice patient but ever so slightly annoyed. ‘I’m sure you do, but in this instance you are confusing self-respect with conformity to the social norm. Let me give you an example. Last time we met, you were wearing a knee-length skirt and a blouse. Does that mean you lack self-respect?’

  ‘Er … no, of course not. I’d just come from my tutorial.’

  ‘And I don’t suppose John Etheridge was shocked when you came in dressed like that?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘OK, now imagine that we’ve gone back in time a hundred years to the late-Edwardian period. If you were to visit a don in Boniface dressed like that he would be outraged. The college was all male then and, on the rare occasions when women did visit, they’d never have been alone, and their clothes covered them up from their necks to the ground, and there you are, on your own, with half your legs on show and more cleavage than the most daring of evening gowns. The don would assume that you lacked all self-respect, both for wandering around an all-male college without a chaperone and for the way you were dressed.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Undoubtedly. Then consider sex. Just fifty years ago it would have been considered pretty shocking for a female undergraduate to be having open premarital sex with her boyfriend, but nowadays nobody bats an eyelid. Spanking is no different. Society tells us that it is inappropriate for a woman to submit to having her bottom smacked for sexual pleasure, or for any other reason for that matter. Yet even that is changing. For an MP, say, to admit to enjoying erotic spanking would be to invite ridicule, and yet for a film star it would be embarrassing but no more. On the other hand, spanking as punishment was commonplace and is now considered abuse.’

  ‘OK, so attitudes change with the times.’

  ‘And you will accept that they are likely to continue to do so?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So why limit yourself to the moral values of the moment? Why not choose your own moral values? Because you fear you will be ostracised by society?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. I’m aiming for a political career, so I have to be very careful.’

  ‘That’s wise, certainly, but do you accept my point about self-respect? After all, Violet enjoys being spanked. Does that mean she has less self-respect than you do?’

  He had backed me into a corner, but I thought I had a way out. ‘No, absolutely not! But hang on, let me ask you a question. Would you take it from her?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. I would gain no pleasure from it, but I consider it immoral to do to her what I would not be willing to accept myself.’

  ‘So you don’t think it’s something women should take and men should dish out?’

  ‘No, not at all. In fact, more men prefer the submissive role, although it’s important to understand that in our case Violet needs me to be in authority for her pleasure. She sees the male role as dominant, but that is purely a sexual thing and purely an individual thing.’

  I nodded, because I felt the same, but I wasn’t ready to admit it, not when it meant ending up over his knee. ‘But maybe I don’t want to be spanked?’

  He shrugged. ‘That’s your choice.’

  Violet had stayed quiet for a long time, and as she spoke she looked as if she was about to cry. ‘Don’t you, Poppy, really?’

  I couldn’t lie. ‘Yes, I do, you know I do, Violet, but … but by James, even in front of James! And I am …’

  I’d been going to point out that I was in a relationship with Stephen, but it was pointless, especially when Violet knew what he got up to with Giles.

  James shrugged. ‘I won’t deny that I’d like to spank you, Poppy, but I have no desire to push you into something you don’t want. Still, if you’d like to try, then why not let Violet do it? I’ll take a long walk and come back when you’re finished.’

  With those words he had me trapped, but I still tried to wriggle out of it.

  ‘Violet? But …’

  I broke off, sure he knew that she and I had been going to bed together, while at the suggestion of his leaving us to it I’d experienced a sudden and strong sense of disappointment. My voice was a mumble and I was looking at my shoes as I answered. ‘That wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  I forced myself to speak up. ‘That wouldn’t be fair, if you had to go away.’

  ‘I don’t mind, really.’

  I shook my head.

  Violet spoke up. ‘Come along, Poppy, enough nonsense. You’re coming with me, and you get it now, and you get it in front of James, because that, Poppy Miller is what you deserve, and what you want, isn’t it?’

  My heart felt as if it was in my mouth and no words would come. She reached out and took me by the hand, leading me from the main room and into a bedroom. It was very plain, with a single high window looking out at the sky and simple furniture, including a double bed with a bolster and a bright-red coverlet. She sat down on the edge to make a lap for me, her long elegant legs extended to allow me to get over them in that awful position, my head dangling down at one end and my feet at the other, my bottom the highest part of my body. Violet beckoned to me, crooking one slender finger. ‘Come on, bad girl, over my knee with you.’

  I couldn’t bring myself to do it, but her face hardened into a no-nonsense expression and she patted her thigh. ‘Come on, over my knee.’

  ‘But, Violet, I …’

  ‘Poppy Miller, you little peeper, you will get over my knee, now!’

  She almost shouted the final word and I found myself reacting, for all my burning embarrassment. I stepped forwards, trembling violently as I draped myself across her legs and
braced my hands and feet on the bare wooden floorboards, lifting my bottom into position for spanking. Her hand settled across my cheeks, just stroking, but I felt them tighten in anticipation.

  ‘Violet, please …’

  ‘Hush, darling. Now, we’d better have you bare.’

  ‘Violet! No, not in front of James!’

  It was too late. She had peeled down my bikini bottoms, leaving me showing everything from behind, and I was only glad that I was sideways on to the door, where he’d come to stand, watching as I was prepared for punishment. Yet she was right. I’d needed my bikini pants pulled down, because the jolt of excitement as I’d been exposed had been amazingly strong, like a tiny orgasm. At last I understood the expression on her face when I’d watched him give her the same treatment.

  Again her hand settled on my bottom, feeling the texture of my flesh, and all of a sudden it had begun, her palm lifted and brought down across my cheeks with a firm stinging slap. I cried out, more in shock than pain, and again at the second slap. A voice in my head was telling me to get up and put an end to the awful indignity of what was being done to me, but I couldn’t, instead wriggling and kicking over Violet’s lap as the spanking grew harder and she began to tell me off for peeping at them.

  ‘You’re a disgrace, Poppy Miller, looking at me through the keyhole, aren’t you, an utter disgrace! And now you’re going to learn now it feels to have your bare bum showing for somebody else to get their kicks, and more.’

  She’d reached under my chest, to jerk my bikini top up. I gasped as my breasts fell free, completing my exposure, and tried to cover myself, snatching for my top and my lowered pants at the same time.

  Violet grabbed my wrist, twisting it into the small of my back. ‘Oh no you don’t!’

  I began to struggle, close to panic, but she held me, quickly peeling me out of my bikini altogether before once more setting to work on my bottom. Now I was being spanked in the nude, making my feelings stronger still, and she’d started to do it across the seat of my cheeks, sending a sharp jolt to my sex with every slap.