The Indulgences of Isabelle

by Penny Birch

  Eventually I was going to have to tell him he wouldn't be getting it, but that was not a happy prospect. He'd be furious, and I'd have broken his trust, which I'd never done before. That meant that in the future he wouldn't believe me, while there was still the issue of what the Owl might be telling him, all of which put me in an agony of indecision. At one extreme I could play him at his own game, plotting and scheming. Perhaps I could use the Owl to feed him false information, so that he'd turn up at the wrong place and time? Perhaps I could string him along with further promises until after the Christmas party? In both cases I'd only be storing up future difficulties for myself. But at the other extreme I could give in and suck his beastly cock for him, and my pride would not allow that.

  The other issue was the darts match. I'd agreed to play and Yazzie knew that, which made it hard to back out. However, it would be in Bicester, at a strange pub, I'd be with four other women, and Tierney wasn't even in the team. I'd quickly decided to go, but to cycle to Bicester and meet them there rather than accept a place in the minibus they were hiring. My decision also allowed me to find more time to think, because I could start early, spend the day walking in the countryside, then join them later.

  I chose a place near Quainton, in Buckinghamshire. During the summer Portia had told us about a stretch of old railway that still had its tracks in place. She'd wanted to be chained to it in order to fulfil a fantasy that was more a horrid thrill than anything sexual, but the rest of us had been happy to oblige. We'd stayed there all day and had seen not one single person, while on Eliza's insistence I myself had checked the line to make sure that it was cut at both ends and that there was no possibility whatsoever of the unexpected arrival of a train.

  It was the perfect place to walk and to think, since if it had been deserted on a baking hot day in June it would presumably be deserted in November. I got up early and cycled out from Oxford. My head seemed to clear with every turn of the wheels, until by the time I'd reached the railway I felt calm and rational, really for the first time since my spanking across Eliza's knee. As I'd hoped, I was able to analyse my feelings, both about enjoying submission and about men.

  For as long as I could remember, sex and discipline had been linked in my mind. As the ministers at home in Scotland had never tired of telling us, sex was a sin, and sin deserved punishment. To me, the essence of sex was to be entered from behind, and the focus of sex was therefore my bottom. Thus what better way to punish a woman for sexual sins than to spank her bottom?

  Not that the ministers would have seen it that way, but it worked for me – except that it wasn't my bottom that should be spanked, but another woman's. That was the foundation of my sexuality, the one on which I'd built my relationships, first with Jasmine and Caroline, and then with Katie. Unfortunately, while I genuinely hated the idea of being on the receiving end there was no denying what it did to me and, for all my experience and training, that had not changed.

  As I walked along the abandoned railway line, stepping from sleeper to sleeper at an exact pace controlled by their spacing, a nasty suspicion began to creep over me: that maybe there was nothing natural about my preference for being dominant at all. Perhaps it was simply a reflection of my pride. This made sense, and it also fitted in with my attitude to men. My preference has always been for women, but it would be a lie for me to claim to be anything other than bisexual. The difference in my attitude to men, though, is that, for me, sex with a man means having to submit myself to him and no amount of liberal or feminist theory has ever made me feel otherwise.

  Having got that far, I discovered that I did not want to reach the obvious conclusion, and so turned my thoughts to Tierney and the Owl instead. I was convinced that she was spying on me, but I couldn't believe she would do it voluntarily. That meant Tierney had some kind of hold over her, which brought up some unpleasant possibilities. If only I could catch them together I would be able to talk to her and bring her over to my side, whatever she had done – short of murder, and it was impossible to imagine the Owl murdering anybody.

  It was even difficult to imagine the Owl crossing an empty road when the little red man was showing, but it was very easy to imagine her getting upset over some indiscretion that I would have considered trivial. There were plenty of things it might have been, but whatever it was I needed to know, because that would put a stop to Tierney's tricks. Ideally, I wanted to know before we set a date for the Christmas party, so that would have to be my priority.

  Having reached my conclusions I walked back to where I'd chained my bike to a fence and started out for Bicester. The air was distinctly cool, and I realised I'd almost certainly been right about my session with Katie in among the willows being the last opportunity of the year for outdoor sex. My knuckles were soon painfully cold, and by the time I got to the Boar I was chilled through. It was also dark, and foggy, a combination that made the warm smoke-filled atmosphere of the pub seem positively desirable, as was the company of my fellow human beings, even the rough working-class men and their slatternly companions who filled the place.

  Nobody else from the Red Ox was there, so I treated myself to a double whisky and went to sit near the dartboard. A group of men and women were playing, very possibly our opponents, so I watched with interest. One of them in particular caught my eye, a massive man with a shock of greasy black hair and a moustache that made him look like a Mexican bandit, although he seemed more likely to be Turkish or Greek. He had the most colossal beer gut I'd ever seen, drank pints as if they were water and threw his darts with unerring accuracy. I could see at a glance that he was not only far better than me or anyone else from our team, but also far better than his friends.

  I'd begun to consider our tactics when the door opened to admit a familiar figure, Stan Tierney. He was followed by Jack, Choker, and to my immense relief Edna, but that was all. They saw me immediately and Choker went to get the drinks while the others came to my table.

  'All right, Isa?' Tierney greeted me. 'Budge up.'

  He gave a friendly leer as he nudged my hip with his own and I hastily moved down the bench, only to find myself blocked by Edna, whose enormous hips and monstrous bottom occupied at least twice the space that I did.

  'I didn't think you were in the team?' I asked as Tierney made himself comfortable next to me.

  'The team's who wants to be in it,' he said, 'and I've come up to keep you company.'

  He sounded genuine, even hurt, but the crafty glitter in his eyes sent a very different message.

  'I thought Yazzie would be here,' I went on.

  'Saturday, ain't it? She's stripping.'

  'Yazzie strips? At the Red Ox!?'

  'Yeah, sure. What's the big deal? You used to, before you got all hoity-toity on us.'

  I merely shrugged, knowing that if I lived to be a hundred I would never understand the way working-class people think. Tierney, certainly, was oblivious to the impropriety of the situation, which would have given my parents apoplexy, never mind the ministers. Yet at least I wasn't at the Red Ox, and even if I was with two of the worst offenders from the crew and Choker, an unknown but suspect quantity, I was also with Edna, and immensely thankful for her presence.

  'Whisky, straight up – yeah, love?' Choker asked as he put down what must have been at least a triple in front of me.

  'That's right,' Tierney answered for me. 'She likes it straight up, does Isa.'

  They all laughed, even Edna, setting my cheeks on fire with embarrassment. Choker set down the rest of the drinks and they began to talk about the darts match, except for Jack who had gone to speak with the captain of the opposing team. That turned out to be the huge man with the beer gut, who presently came over to find out who was playing against who. He was friendly to everybody, and had obviously met the others before.

  We were playing to the same rules as when I'd joined in at the Red Ox, and I found myself up against a middle-aged woman who appeared to be going bald. She was also a good darts player and beat me, although
not by a large margin. Their captain, Osman, also managed to dispose of Jack, but Edna and Choker both won, leaving Tierney playing against a tiny man so old that he appeared to be almost fossilised. I was still surprised when Tierney won, and was also rather surprised that no suggestions of sexual forfeits had been made, which I'd been half expecting despite the presence of Edna.

  It was good to have won, although after getting so nervous about what Tierney might do I felt more relief than anything now it was over, and also experienced a strong sense of anticlimax. The others were thoroughly pleased with themselves, having lost the same match three years running. Jack in particular was full of himself, despite having lost against Osman, and happily accepted Osman's demand for a rematch at the Red Ox, this time with stakes instead of simply for the honour of the thing.

  I paid little attention, drinking the whiskies they insisted on buying for me until I realised that if I didn't stop it would be dangerous for me to cycle home. Tierney himself had just pressed a glass into my hand, and I decided to make it my last.

  'Fancy coming back to the Ox?' he suggested, with a wink so lewd he might as well have got his cock out. 'Or maybe my place? Nice and quiet at my place, it is.'

  'No, thank you,' I told him. 'My bike is outside.'

  'Twenty miles,' he said, 'and it's a nasty, foggy night.'

  'It's ten,' I corrected him, 'perhaps twelve back to St George's, and I have lights.'

  I produced one from my coat pocket, just in case he got any ideas about pinching them so that I'd have to go in the minibus.

  'Suit yourself,' he said. 'But don't forget you owe me that blow job.'

  He turned away, leaving me blushing crimson because he'd made no attempt at all to keep his voice down and there were people all around us, including Osman and the little wizened man Tierney had beaten. I took a swallow of my whisky, wishing that Tierney didn't get to me so badly and so easily, also that my fingers would stop shaking. Osman had heard, because he was grinning as he turned to me. But he didn't make an issue of it, simply asking where I'd learnt to play darts and if I'd be there for the rematch.

  Twenty minutes later I'd finished my whisky and decided it was time to leave. The rest of the Red Ox team were scattered around the pub, talking to different people, and I quickly made my goodbyes. Tierney had been right about the fog, which had come down with a vengeance, giving the street lights yellow halos and making the car park an illuminated island in a sea of dirty white. My bike was chained to a lamp-post – or rather, it wasn't.

  It took me all of one second to go from the initial horror of thinking I'd had my bike stolen to the realisation of who had stolen it, and I was back in the pub inside ten. Tierney was by the bar, making no doubt sexist remarks to a young and buxom barmaid. I went straight over to him.

  'Where's my bike, Tierney?' I demanded.

  'Fuck me, Isa!' he answered, jumping back in surprise. 'What's up with you?'

  'Where is my bicycle?' I repeated, louder.

  'How should I know?' he retorted. 'Where you chained it up, I suppose.'

  'No, it is not,' I told him, 'as I suspect you know perfectly well. Now come on, this is beyond a joke. I want my bike.'

  People were looking at us, and I was on the edge of tears. As Tierney answered me his voice was soft and considerate.

  'Hey, hey, don't be like that, love. I haven't nicked your bike. Why would I?'

  'The place is full of fucking tea leaves,' Jack put in. 'But don't worry about it. You can come back with us.'

  'Oh, and then I suppose you want . . .' I began, my voice heavy with sarcasm, only to stop.

  The Red Ox men had been perfectly well behaved all evening, at least by their standards, Edna was with us and there were about twenty men and women within hearing range. I was tired and drunk, it was a foul night out and a long way home.

  'OK, I'll come with you,' I said, and quickly wiped a tear away. 'Thank you.'

  'That's the way,' Tierney answered, then turned back to his barmaid. 'Here, love, get us a whisky, one of those fancy ones, and better make it a double.'

  'On the house,' the girl answered, and lifted a tumbler to the optic of a bottle of Laphroaig.

  I accepted it gratefully, feeling silly now for accusing Tierney and so grateful to the rest of them that I couldn't stop the tears. Osman and another man even went out to search for my bike, and it was nearly closing time before they returned, empty-handed. By then I had no choice anyway. I was feeling drunk and emotional, in no condition to ride. As we went outside and the cold air hit me I found myself having to hold on to Edna for support, and she guided me into the minibus where I slumped down in one of the rear seats.

  My emotions were a mess, and I closed my eyes, the drink singing in my head as I made myself as comfortable as I could. I felt the minibus start, and then somebody sat down next to me: Tierney. I knew he was going to take advantage of me, but I didn't care any more. After all, I'd promised . . . and at least Tierney wasn't as decrepit as that old pervert Walter Jessop.

  When he began to feel me up I barely reacted. I had my coat done up, and he'd put a hand under a lapel to fondle my breasts through my jumper and blouse. I wasn't even sure if he knew I was awake, but the outrage I should have felt at his behaviour just wouldn't come. Soon he'd got my nipples erect, and before I really knew it he'd pulled my clothes up, including my bra, and had opened my coat. My breasts were naked and his fingers were pawing at my flesh to explore my shape and tease my nipples even more as I felt his lips press to my ear.

  'How about now, Isa? Nobody can see.'

  Tierney was right. Edna was driving, with Choker beside her on the broad front seat and Jack immediately behind. I could suck Tierney off, nobody would be any the wiser and I'd have kept my word.

  'Here, look,' he said. 'Look how horny you get me.'

  I opened my eyes to find that he had his cock out, a fat pale rod sticking up from his scruffy jeans, visible each time we passed under a light. He was fully erect, and not for the first time I had to admit to myself that for all his other faults he did have a nice cock, big and meaty and perfectly suckable. I'd thought so the first time I'd taken him in my hand, two years ago, and I felt the same way now as I allowed myself to be guided gently but firmly down into his lap.

  Something inside me was screaming at me to stop, yelling that I was betraying myself, that I had been tricked and that what Tierney was doing to me was abuse. It was a lie. I'd promised to suck his cock and I was going to. My mouth widened to take it in, then it was full. As I set to work, Tierney gave a low moan, perhaps from pleasure, perhaps from relief that I'd finally given in to him, and to myself. I knew I was drunk, but sometimes drink lets you do things you want to but otherwise wouldn't dare, and what I wanted right then was his cock.

  'Hang on,' he grunted as he adjusted himself to pull out his balls.

  I went straight down on them, as I had on Walter's, mouthing on the plump leathery sack to fill my mouth with the taste of him while I tossed off his cock. It felt deliciously dirty, and better still as his hand slid under my chest to grope at my breasts, so wonderfully rude, to suck off a much older man in the back of a moving van. My top was up, my bare little boobs in his hand, his cock hard in my mouth as we drove through the night with his friends just feet away. That made me a slut, and I knew it, but that was what I wanted, and more.

  My hands went to my jeans, fumbling the button open and pushing them down over my hips. Tierney saw what I was up to and pulled up my coat, showing off the seat of my plain white panties to the window. I didn't care, far from it. If the world saw what a dirty pig I was, all the better, but Stan had more sense and eased me down to the floor beside him, with my legs cocked wide. I took his cock in again, stuck a hand down my knickers and began to rub myself.

  'That's my girl, good and dirty,' he drawled.

  I just purred. It felt wonderful, in the warm darkness, with a cock in my mouth and my hand down my panties, drunk and randy, my tits out and pussy warm and wet a
nd willing . . .

  'Fuck me, Isa's giving Stan a blow!' Jack swore.

  'The dirty little cow!' Edna exclaimed. Her outburst was followed by a wordless grunt of astonishment from Choker.

  'Uh, uh,' Tierney said firmly as I tried to rise. 'You stay right where you are, missy.'

  He'd twisted his hand in my hair, keeping me firmly down on his erection, and I wriggled, but not so very hard. I'd been getting to close to orgasm, and the thought of being watched while I sucked Stan off was good because it was dirty and humiliating too, and the thing that turned me on most of all was the disapproval in Edna's voice. I nodded, and then as Stan eased his grip I pulled my head up.

  'You don't have to hold me down. I don't mind doing it in front of them. If you like you can take turns.'

  'Jesus shit!' Choker gasped.

  'Why, you little tart!' Edna snapped. 'What you need is a good smacking!'

  'Yes, please,' I sighed. 'Why don't you spank me while I suck the boys off?'

  'Jesus, Joseph and Mary!' she said.

  'Pull over for a minute, Edna love,' Jack asked.

  'I will do no such thing!' Edna retorted. 'If you want the dirty little tart you can have her, but not when I'm around.'

  'We won't be long, and you don't have to watch,' Jack pointed out. 'Come on, love.'

  Edna merely speeded up, the force of the acceleration, pushing my face onto Stan's cock and pressing his helmet down my throat.

  'Nice – do that again, Isa,' he rasped as I began to gag. But I pulled back, showing off now by easing my lips up and down his shaft with long, smooth motions.

  'Jesus, I'd like a piece of that!' Jack sighed. 'For fuck's sake, Edna, will you pull over? Anybody would think you'd never watched us make a bitch give head!'

  Edna responded with an angry grunt, but a moment later the minibus had begun to slow down. We were well out of town, and had pulled off into a darkened lay-by, where Jack and Choker came round to the back of the vehicle. They wasted no time but simply took me, Choker sitting down and jerking my hand from my pussy onto his cock, while Jack pulled my body out into the central aisle. I managed a feeble protest as I realised that I was going to be fucked, but he simply pulled my panties down and began to rub his half-stiff cock in the wetness between my legs.