The Indulgences of Isabelle

by Penny Birch

  'I want to wet my panties,' she giggled. 'But . . . but I think it would be more fun if I took a dose of the strap.'

  Portia shrugged, feigning indifference, but her expression betrayed her true emotions. It was the most painful of the remaining options but the least intimate, leaving her little choice but to thoroughly humiliate herself with Walter Jessop. I even felt a little sorry for her, mainly because I'd have hated to be in her position.

  'Two dozen strokes, I think,' I told Caroline, 'as you seem to be taking so much pleasure in being cruel to poor Portia.'

  Caroline winced, but went to take her place on one of Dr Treadle's old upholstered leather chairs, kneeling on the seat with her arms resting on the back and her bottom thrust out for my attention. I took my time with her, first opening her blouse to leave her heavy breasts lolling naked beneath her chest and then twisting it up behind her back to make sure that everyone could see. Not that being stripped that way humiliated her at all, as it would have done most girls, but it was nice to have her on show. Her tiny school skirt only covered about half of her panty seat as it was, but I turned it up onto her back and spent a moment admiring the way the thin white cotton strained out across her ample bottom. The I pulled her knickers down.

  'You have a fat bottom, Caroline,' I told her. 'A beautiful bottom, but a fat one.'

  'I know,' she answered me, with a hint of a sob in her voice.

  She was also firm, and her waist was tiny, making the way her bum cheeks flared more exaggerated still, and intensely feminine. So was the mingled scent of her perfume and aroused pussy, and the prospect of beating her was very appealing indeed. There was a selection of punishment implements arranged on a side table, laid out in much the same way as the drinks on the sideboard and the bowls of cashew nuts and olives, as if the devices were a perfectly normal part of the decor. I selected a heavy three-tailed tawse, which seemed about right for Caroline's resilience and the size of her bottom. Not that she was particularly tough, but she had been known to complain if she was not beaten thoroughly.

  Caroline's stare followed me as I walked back to where she was bent waiting for punishment. She had pulled her back in without having to be told, ensuring that her pussy and bottom-hole were on show, as every girl's should be for a beating. I gave her a gentle smile for her obedience and stepped behind her, measuring the tawse across the cheeks of her bottom. Her muscles tightened in reaction, but went loose again as I lifted the thick leather strap, once more allowing her bottom to spread fully.

  I brought the tawse down hard, creating a satisfying smack of leather on girlflesh, a noise that was repeated as I gave her the second stroke, and then the third. Caroline tried to keep still and to maintain at least some dignity, but I kept the strokes coming to a hard, even rhythm and she broke quickly. By the sixth she was kicking her feet and gasping. By the twelfth she was treading up and down on the chair and shaking her head because of the pain. By the eighteenth she was squealing like a pig and writhing under the blows, so that I twice caught her across the thighs before I was done, making her reaction more desperate still – and more enjoyable.

  'If you don't want your legs smacked you must learn to keep still,' I told her casually. 'You may get up and give me a cuddle.'

  Caroline didn't answer, but she came straight into my arms, trembling violently as I held her. Her eyes were a little moist, and her bottom hot and thick with welts, tempting me to stroke her hurt flesh as I soothed her, and to kiss her mouth to make her better and enjoy her reaction to the beating I'd given her. She responded, holding on tight to me with her naked breasts pressed to my own, completely surrendered to me.

  'If you two have quite finished?' Sarah remarked.

  'Sorry,' I answered, and broke away.

  'No, no, carry on,' Portia put in. 'Have each other on the floor and we can all watch.'

  'You're not going to escape that easily,' I told her.

  Portia made a face at me but stood up, hesitating, although she didn't really have any options. Allowing herself to be tied up was out of the question, because it would have meant letting Walter do whatever he liked to her, which was sure to involve a cock up her pussy – and probably in her mouth, too – while being queened by him would be as bad if not worse.

  'I'll wet my knickers for you,' she finally said in a voice so quiet as to be barely audible.

  'I beg your pardon?' Walter asked, although he had obviously heard.

  'I said I'll wet my knickers for you,' Portia repeated, a little louder and even sulkier than before.

  'You'll wet your knickers for me,' Walter echoed with immense satisfaction. 'Splendid. First of all, I rather think we'd better have you in your knickers, just your knickers.'

  Portia was pouting desperately, but she was the one who'd questioned Jasmine's initial choice and now she only had herself to blame. She began to undress, reluctantly and making no effort to show off her body, but removing her immaculate riding gear piece by piece until she was down to a pair of scarlet briefs, lacy where they curved tightly against her wellformed bottom while her pussy was cupped in smooth, heavy silk.

  'Very pretty,' Walter remarked, 'and expensive too, I imagine?'

  'Not particularly,' Portia answered. 'Twenty-four ninety-nine.'

  'For a pair of panties?' Walter asked.

  Portia merely shrugged.

  'Spoiled rotten,' Walter said, with a shake of his head.

  'Do you want me to wet in them or not?' Portia demanded.

  'Yes,' Walter told her. 'But it's hardly polite to our host to have you piddle all over his floor, is it?'

  'Make her sit on the loo in the bathroom,' Caroline suggested.

  'I have a better idea,' Walter went on. 'Isadore, I noticed that by the front door you have an aspidistra in an old-fashioned china potty – late Victorian, I think. Might I borrow it? And perhaps I could also trouble you for a newspaper?'

  'Certainly,' Dr Treadle responded, chuckling as he got to his feet.

  The look on Portia's face as she waited for the preparations to be made was a sight to behold. She was fidgeting badly and obviously wanted to cover her breasts, but she realised that she'd just have looked silly. Everybody else was openly enjoying her plight as well, and she couldn't help but react, so that by the time Dr Treadle's fine red, blue and gold rug had been rolled back and the large china potty placed at the exact centre of an old Daily Telegraph she was shaking so badly that her erect nipples were visibly quivering.

  'Your throne,' Walter offered, indicating the potty. 'Thighs well apart, please, and stick your bottom right out.'

  Portia hesitated, but then she stepped towards the impromptu toilet, blushing furiously as she sank into a squat over the potty. She got into the position that Walter had ordered her to adopt, with her bottom stuck out and her thighs spread wide, so that he had an unobstructed view of the back of the seat of her knickers and also where the gusset was pulled tight to reveal the shape of her pussy lips.

  'Don't feel you need to rush,' Walter said. 'I'm enjoying you just as you are.'

  Portia threw him a last, absolutely furious look, then closed her eyes and hung her head a little, obviously trying to relax her bladder. It couldn't have been easy, and three times the muscles of her thighs and bottom cheeks went tense before she managed to let go. She gave a faint sob as her panty crotch bulged out under the weight of the pee, which quickly burst through, running from underneath her gusset and also out at one side to splash into the potty and trickle down her thigh.

  There was plenty of it, very pale, and she'd obviously had a drink or two before coming to the party. Most of it went into the potty, but a little escaped down Portia's leg to drip onto the newspaper and the rest soaked into her expensive knickers, front and back, making them cling to her wet flesh to display the shape of her sex and her bottom cheeks. By the time she finished, the back of her knickers was soaked almost to the top of her bum crease and she was forced to take them off with her legs still set to either side of the potty
, otherwise she'd have risked soiling the floor. As she did so she accidentally treated Walter to a show of the underside of her pussy which left him with a satisfied grin on his weather-beaten face as she walked quickly from the room with her sodden panties trailing from one hand.

  Duncan began to clap, a response quickly taken up by the rest of us, and Dr Treadle got up to refresh our drinks while we waited for Portia to sort herself out in the bathroom. I was feeling highly aroused but also mellow, and was quite happy to enjoy the rest of the game before taking my pleasure with Katie and perhaps with Caroline as well. Tiffany was next: she had watched Portia's lewd little display with increasing astonishment, almost horror, which made the thought of watching her being put through her paces more exciting still.

  'What do you want to do to me if I let you tie me up?' she asked Sarah as they took their glasses.

  'Whatever I please,' Sarah responded.

  'And queening is when you sit on somebody's face, isn't it?'

  'That's right.'

  Tiffany gave a single urgent nod. She was obviously embarrassed, giving a wry glance towards the men, but she laid herself down on the floor. Sarah was all smiles as she stood up to brace her feet either side of Tiffany's body.

  'You know I'm going to do it bare, don't you?' she demanded.

  Again Tiffany gave her nervous nod.

  'But it's hardly appropriate that I should be bare when you're dressed, is it? Open your blouse and take down your jodhpurs.'

  'How about her panties?' Walter demanded.

  'She has no panties,' Sarah responded. 'She feels that they spoil the line of her jodhpurs.'

  It was true. Tiffany had begun to expose herself, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and as she pushed her jodhpurs down we were treated to a display of her furry ginger pussy. She had no bra either, and her breasts, small, hard and high, were covered in freckles.

  'That's better,' Sarah said, 'and rather pretty too. Now, I'm going to sit my bare bottom on your face and you're to lick me. Can you cope with that?'

  'I asked for it,' Tiffany said, still nervous but with a touch of defiance in her voice.

  I wondered just how experienced she was. For all my fantasies and a strong desire for sex with other women, I wasn't at all sure I could have coped with having a woman sit on my face at the beginning of my first year, let alone in front of an audience. Tiffany wasn't going to back out, though: she lay still and passive on the floor as Sarah bared herself and lifted her coat tails to make sure that the girl got a good view of what was about to descend on her face.

  'You're to make me come,' Sarah ordered as she sank down into a squat, her bottom cheeks well spread.

  Tiffany's mouth came open and her eyes grew wide as she stared up at Sarah's bum. Then they became invisible as her face was sat on.

  'Now lick,' Sarah ordered, giving a little wiggle to make herself comfortable.

  I was slightly disappointed to see that Sarah had sat down with her pussy rather than her bottom-hole over Tiffany's mouth but that at least meant that the little brat's nose was where it belonged. Not that she seemed to mind – she was licking busily and was plainly aroused. Her thighs had begun to come up and they opened as her excitement grew, showing off her pussy properly this time. I could see that she was wet and that her lips were puffy and the crease between them was glistening and pink.

  Tiffany was a great deal more raunchy than I'd expected her to be, given her age and – presumably – her relative lack of experience, but I knew that Portia at least had been with her, and if she'd joined the lesbian society in Freshers' Week then she was obviously confident in her own sexuality. One thing she'd definitely done before was lick pussy, and she had Sarah moaning in no time at all. I wanted to join in, but it wasn't the right moment. When I had Tiffany I would be in charge, and I certainly wouldn't make an exhibition of myself the way Sarah was, clutching at her breasts and gasping in ecstasy as she experienced the attentions of her plaything's tongue.

  Sarah had no sooner dismounted than Yazzie begun to strip off, which meant simply peeling her dress over her head. She was nude underneath and her pale, gently curvaceous body was hairless, as I saw when she dropped to her knees to pick up her bondage ropes between her teeth. I had the perfect view as she crawled back to Dr Treadle, with her milk-white bottom open to me and her neatly turned pussy and tiny pink anal star both on full show.

  'Your boots too, please, Yazzie,' he instructed.

  'Yes, Dr Treadle Sensei,' she answered, dropping the ropes.

  ' ''Isadore'' will do very nicely, thank you,' he replied as she quickly struggled out of her boots. 'That's better.'

  'How would you like me, Sensei?' she asked.

  Yazzie had got into a kneeling position, her knees planted wide to leave her sex vulnerable and her hands by her sides so that neither her breasts nor her bottom were obstructed from view. It was nice to see a girl make a toy of herself, although I really prefer a little fight or, better still, shyness.

  'That will do nicely,' Dr Treadle told her. 'Now, let me see . . .'

  His voice trailed off as he picked up the ropes. To the best of my knowledge he had no experience at all with bondage, but he clearly understood human anatomy. He quickly bound Yazzie's wrists to either side of her waist with one rope and tied her ankles together with another, leaving her helpless and pretty well immobile. He used the third rope to make a leash, fastening it loosely around her neck and tying the end off to the doorknob so that she was effectively captured. Then he left the room.

  Yazzie didn't know what was coming. But I did, and I also knew why he'd insisted on her taking her boots off. Dr Treadle was soon back. In one hand he held a large ostrich feather, which has to be the most efficient instrument for tickling girls that there is. Yazzie saw, but her expression remained serene, at least until he touched the feather to the soles of her feet. I saw her muscles twitch as her mouth came open in surprise and she dissolved into giggles, completely unable to control herself.

  It was funny, and I was laughing with the others as Yazzie's cool, submissive poise simply evaporated. When he applied the feather to the underside of her bottom she fell over, squirming on the carpet as her tickled her, making as much – or more – fuss as most girls do when they're spanked. Dr Treadle was grinning, evidently enjoying himself immensely while his cock grew to a hard bar within his trousers.

  For any mixed swinging party to work, there has to be a point at which the men's cocks come out. If they don't then it's likely to fizzle out, as I had learnt during the previous year. Our three males were all older than any of the females, rather genteel and also reserved, which meant they'd probably need a helping hand – although, naturally, not mine. I gave Katie's bottom a smack.

  'I think Duncan would appreciate your assistance.'

  On her own Katie could never have done it, but on an order from me she could. Duncan had heard me and he adjusted himself in his chair to make a better lap for her. She settled herself and, with a little assistance, freed his cock from his fly. He was already half stiff and his penis grew quickly in her hand, a delightful sight because she managed to look innocent even with her bottom bare on his leg and her hand gripping his shaft, as if she were some naive young girl who'd been spanked for a punishment and then coaxed into masturbating the man who'd dealt with her.

  As I'd hoped, with one man's cock out the inhibitions of the others dissolved. Walter beckoned to Caroline, who went to him after just a moment's hesitation, and soon there were two men with pretty girls on their laps and cocks growing stiff in eager hands. All the while Yazzie had been squirming on the floor, giggling helplessly as the ostrich feather teased her feet and between her thighs, her bottom crease and her breasts. Dr Treadle looked as if he was about to burst and got himself out only just in time, making a brief insertion of his erect prick into Yazzie's pussy before jerking himself to a frantic climax, his jetting sperm splashing all over her bare bottom and legs.

  The new year was going to be a success for th
e Rattaners.

  Three

  We stayed at Dr Treadle's until the early hours of the morning. Once he had lost control of himself and spunked all over Yazzie's bottom there had been little or no reason to hold back. Even Portia had stopped sulking after a while, while I knew I'd definitely made the right choice in accepting the two new members. Yazzie was deeply submissive and receptive, which made her extremely useful, if less challenging than I might have liked. Tiffany was a brat, but that made her all the more desirable. She seemed to regard everybody except Portia as somehow different and inferior, but also sexual and rather frightening, as if she'd been dropped in with a gang of randy cavemen.

  I was also pleased with the way the men had behaved, polite and obedient, and providing a useful masculine input. The Red Ox boys would have been another matter entirely, crude and demanding, which I knew would have given the party an entirely different flavour. Tierney in particular had a way of making everything focus on him and his particular preferences. I was very glad that he hadn't been there, and while it was tempting to let him know that there had been a party I managed to resist – only to discover that he knew anyway.

  This happened on the following Thursday. I was walking around the quad, thinking vague thoughts about the influence of Metternich on nineteenth-century Europe, when Tierney appeared from one of the side passages. His grin was lewd even by his usual standards, and my first thought was that I'd accidentally tucked my skirt into the back of my knickers or that my nipples showed through my blouse. I hadn't and they didn't, so I feigned an interest in the architecture of the college roofs and hoped he'd realise that I didn't want to speak to him.