Devon Cream

by Aishling Morgan

  As the spanking progressed, the men began to call out in time to her cries, then to clap until the fat man had caught their rhythm and began to apply the slaps to some jaunty tune that Octavia did not know. Somebody struck up the same tune on the piano and presently Eliza’s wobbling bottom formed the centrepiece of a fine burlesque. Octavia joined in, clapping and chanting with the best of them as her friend was reduced to a sobbing, red-bottomed heap across the fat man’s lap. Finally it was done, ending in a crescendo of slaps, loud bass notes and yells from Eliza. Clapping broke out, and calls for an encore, but the fat man merely pushed his well-spanked victim from his knees and rose, red-faced and puffing, to take a bow.

  Eliza made no effort to cover herself, but got unsteadily to all fours with her naked red bottom stuck out as if the fact that it was on show to thirty or so leering men was of no consequence at all. Octavia, who knew full well how a girl felt after a thorough spanking, moved down to assist. Only when she reached Eliza did she realise that she had made a mistake. Simply because the fat man was too exhausted to continue spanking did not mean that the crowd had had its fill of watching girls get their bottoms stripped and slapped.

  No sooner had she reached out for Eliza than she had been grabbed and thrust down on to her friend’s back. Eliza grunted and Octavia gave a squeal of surprise as her bare breasts squashed out on either side of Eliza’s neck. Then her arms and legs had been taken and somebody was pulling up her skirts.

  They lost no time in exposing her, lifting her gown and her single taffeta petticoat. She had put on drawers simply for the pleasure of showing them off, and now found herself doing so to rather more men than she had bargained for. They were of the latest style, tight, short and composed almost entirely of lace, ending at her upper thighs in a ruff and opening by a simple, loose split. They hid nothing, nor offered the least protection from hand or strap.

  The crowd whooped with delight at the sight, replacing Octavia’s shock at her sudden rough treatment with an exhibitionist thrill. She laughed and lifted her bottom, only to have hands take hold of the split of her beautiful drawers and tear them apart. She squeaked in genuine outrage as she felt the garment tear. Her bottom was naked, her legs were wide, her quim and anus flaunted for all to see, her lower body exposed save for sheer stockings, boots, garters and the tattered remains of her lacy drawers. Yet it was not the crude exposure of her body that outraged her but the destruction of her pretty underwear. No notice whatever was taken of her protest. The ruins of her drawers were pulled wide and then wrenched down around her thighs. A hand touched her bottom, lightly, then again as a firm, well-placed smack.

  The piano struck up once more and her spanking began, a hearty tune beaten out on her bare bottom as she lay squirming on Eliza’s back. It hurt, and quickly had her crying out with shock and pain as she was spanked and spanked and spanked. It was a tune she knew, and one with five long verses. The idea of a full five spanking sessions like the one she was being put through filled her with panic, yet she was held firm and could achieve nothing more than a futile wriggling of her bottom.

  They yelled out the chorus with gusto and then began all over again, ignoring Octavia’s giggling entreaties to stop. Soon she was no longer aware of individual slaps, but only of an all-over, hot burning feeling as her buttocks danced and wobbled to the music. Her excitement had also started to rise, and her complaints became less and less believable as the spanking went on, until the heat in her sex overcame the pain and she found herself sticking her bottom up for more. This drew further laughter and harder smacks, along with coarse comments on the state of her quim.

  She knew it was true. She could feel how juicy and swollen she was, even through the pain of the spanking. Each time her bottom was slapped, her mound pressed down on to Eliza’s bottom and she felt the soft flesh meet in a wet, sticky pool of her own lubrication. On and on it went, until she could do nothing but pant out her emotions into Eliza’s hair and squirm weakly in response to the continuing slaps. Vaguely she was aware that several different men had spanked her. Vaguely she knew that thirty men had seen her stripped and beaten for their amusement. Vaguely she knew what was going to happen afterwards. When the spanking finally stopped, she no longer cared.

  Even as the last notes of the song died away, she was being bundled out of the hall and into the library. There she was flung over the back of a chair with her knees in the seat and her head hanging down over the back. Eliza was being given the same treatment in an adjoining chair, and she and Octavia exchanged shocked, aroused glances before the men swarmed around them.

  Over a period that seemed to last forever, she was made full use of. Hands groped her bottom and breasts. Mouths found her nipples and her quim. Fingers eased into her sodden vagina and forced the tight entrance to her back passage. She was taken by the ears and made to suck cock. She was entered again and again, by more men than she could count. Her breasts were milked and she was made to drink the yield. Men came in her mouth and she was made to swallow. Cocks that had been up her pussy were offered to her mouth and she was made to lick. Come was spattered across her upturned bottom and over her dangling breasts.

  Of some details she was aware, oddly sharp in contrast to the pervading haze of sex. The fat boy who had so admired her breasts made her suck him and then came with his cock rubbing between the cheeks of her bottom. The lean, grey-haired man deliberately came in her face, soiling her hair and leaving her with his sperm dripping from her nose and chin. Jervis Maray forced a brief entry to her rectum, only to pull out and offer his cock to her mouth. Octavia sucked it clean, to the cheers and disgusted exclamations of the others. The others took this as a signal and left, as if by an act of such extreme depravity Jervis had marked her as his own.

  Limp and sore, she allowed herself to be carried up to his bedroom where he buggered her at his leisure and finished himself off in her face. With his sperm and that of others plastering her face, breasts and buttocks, with her mouth full of salty acridity, with her straining nipples wet with her own milk, with her anus and vagina red and sore, she put her fingers to her quim and masturbated herself to a screaming, writhing climax that left her panting and exhausted on the floor.

  The majority of the men had gone to the library to indulge themselves with Octavia and Eliza, leaving Polly alone with Richard Haldon and Becky with a small group who especially admired her.

  After watching the spanking, Becky had allowed herself to be teased into being milked. She now knelt on all fours in the centre of the room with her corset off and her gown rolled down to her hips. Her breasts were dangling over a shallow dish, into which two of her admirers were milking her. As the milk squirted from the big teats, Polly watched the ecstasy on her friend’s face. When one of the men began to turn Becky’s gown up, there was no resistance, nor when he lifted her petticoat. When her drawers were split, she simply raised her bottom to ready herself for entry. The man who had been interfering with her already had his penis out and lost no time pushing it into her willing quim.

  Becky sighed as she was entered and started to gasp and grunt when the fucking began. Her breasts were jiggling about in the hands of her milkers and milk had soon begun to spray about on to the carpet. At this one of the men got down low and began to suckle her, followed by the other.

  Polly gave a delighted shiver and turned away. Richard had been with her ever since Jervis had pushed her into getting her breasts out and was clearly in an excited mood. Polly was no less aroused, to the point when she regarded having avoided a spanking of her own with a mixture of relief and regret. Now it was simply a question of whether she or Richard made the first move. Realising that he was waiting for some definite signal, she gave a smile and a nod towards the stairs. He returned the smile and together they made their way up to the bedroom he was using.

  In the privacy of the room, they lost no time, coming together to kiss and hold one another. Soon Richard’s hands were on Polly’s bare breasts, then he had lowered his face
down between the fat globes of flesh and pushed them together around his head. Polly put her hands behind her own head and lifted her breasts into his face. He sighed and began to kiss the depths of her cleavage. His thumbs found her nipples, caressing them and then beginning to knead, starting her milk.

  Polly sighed deeply as his mouth found a nipple and began to suckle, drawing her milk out and swallowing it in rapture. She had been suckled often, but never with such devotion. With her eyes shut and her head thrown back in ecstasy, she let him drain one breast and then the other. At the end she was in heaven. Her nipples stuck out, hard and wet, so taut that they felt sore. Milk had trickled out to wet the crowns of her breasts and puddle in the folds of her lowered gown, and she put her hands to her breasts to rub this in as Richard began to work her gown down over her lower body. It came away slowly, a bit at a time, as he undid the long row of buttons that fastened it at the back. Then it was around her hips and her petticoats were coming down with it, over her thighs to fall in a puddle around her ankles.

  All the while, she was fondling her own breasts and rubbing her milk into her skin. His hands went to her drawers, finding the buttons at her waist and popping them open to let the back fall apart and bare her bottom. They were pulled down at the front and his lips found her mound, kissing in among the brown curls as if he were worshipping at a shrine. He kissed the top of her quim as her drawers dropped to join her gown on the floor, then moved back.

  Polly looked down to find him staring up at her with an expression of absolute adoration. She stepped out of the puddle of rich cloth that lay on the floor, leaving herself in corset and stocking with her breasts, bottom and quim quite bare. Normally such exposure left her feeling vulnerable, but now it produced a strange feeling of power. Richard had lain back, and was supine on the ground, with a prominent bulge in his dress trousers revealing his excitement.

  ‘Shall I . . . mount?’ Polly asked diffidently, more used to men expecting to climb on to her or take her from the rear.

  ‘On my face, please, Polly,’ he said in a thick, urgent voice.

  She giggled, remembering Octavia’s description of how he had licked her anus at Belever. Turning, she set her feet astride his body and placed her hands on her hips, presenting him with the full breadth of her bottom. He gave a low moan of appreciation and his hands went to his fly. Polly watched as he released his penis and balls, a large set with the cock already fully erect. Then, as he began to masturbate, she sank slowly into a squat, lowering her big bottom over his face. She felt his nose touch between her buttocks and reached back to pull them open, then sat squarely down on his face with her anus pressed to his mouth.

  He kissed the little hole, then began to lick and probe it with his tongue while he tugged at his cock with ever more urgency. Polly settled herself on to his face and once more began to fondle her breasts as her anus was licked out. His cock was bobbing frantically in front of her, a big, thick pole of pale flesh with a swollen, red end. The urge to touch it was overwhelming and she went forwards, taking it in her hand to rub it in her cleavage. As she moved, his tongue slipped from her bottom-hole and on to her quim, then began to move in long, wet laps from cunt to anus and back. She began to jerk his cock up and down between her breasts. His hands moved to her buttocks, spreading them. A finger found her anus and popped inside as his tongue began to concentrate on her clitoris.

  Polly felt her orgasm start and stopped pulling at his cock, instead gripping it tightly in her fist. His finger moved further up her bottom and a thumb slid into her vagina. The climax came, a great burst of physical pleasure made yet more intense by the way her body was being worshipped. She gave a long, breathless sigh with her holes contracting hard on his digits and his cock crushed in her fist.

  As her orgasm ebbed, she once more began to rub his cock in her cleavage, feeling that it was only right to let him finish with her bottom in his face. He responded by pulling his face up into her bottom and once more inserting his tongue deep into her wet, open bottom-hole. Polly braced herself, allowing him full use of her anus and breasts, despite the agonising sensitivity of her flesh after the climax. Her nipples were rubbing on his suit trousers, hard and painful. She had to rise, but at that instant his cock jerked and his sperm erupted between her breasts and across her chin. He had thrust his tongue as deep up her bottom as it would go, producing a new ecstasy, and on sudden impulse she moved her face down and took his cock in her mouth, sucking up what sperm had not come out across her breasts.

  For a long while they lay still, wet with each other’s juices but entirely happy. From downstairs, raucous laughter could be heard, punctuated by the occasional squeal or the smack of leather on flesh as Becky and Eliza were used. At length, Polly climbed off Richard and together they made use of the bathroom, then returned to renew their kisses and hugs with yet more intimacy. Soon he was once more erect in her hand, while she was beginning to want another orgasm. Their earlier reticence had gone and, after a brief suck of his cock, she asked boldly to be brought off. Her second orgasm came under his tongue, with him kneeling on the floor as she sat, spread-thighed in a chair. This left his erection straining and urgent.

  ‘Might I suck you?’ Polly offered. ‘Or you may have me any way you wish, even where you put your tongue earlier.’

  ‘Touch yourself again, in front of me,’ he said, his tone one of begging rather than command. ‘Do it so that I can see your beautiful bottom.’

  Polly climbed on to the bed, giggling as she moved to position herself in a frame of velvet drapes with her naked bottom at the centre. Parting her thighs to ensure that he got a full view of every rude detail of her quim and anus, she put her hand back. Her quim was wet with juice and saliva, her clitoris sensitive and prominent. With slow, careful motions she began to masturbate, all the while thinking of his eyes burning into her naked posterior.

  After a while she looked back, finding him seated behind her and pulling hard at his erection. At that instant he came, with what sperm remained flowing out over the top of his penis and splashing his hand. He lay back, satisfied, and closed his eyes, but her pleasure had risen too high to stop and she put her face into the thick coverlet and once more began the climb to orgasm.

  She took it slowly, allowing her pleasure to build until she could resist no more. Spreading her sex-lips between two fingers, she began to rub more earnestly, only to start as the door opened with a crash.

  ‘By God, but that’s a sight!’ an arrogant drawl rang out. ‘I’ll have that, if it’s the last thing I do!’

  Polly realised that the voice was that of Jervis Maray, but she was too close to orgasm to stop herself. She heard Richard give a weak protest and then her hips had been grabbed and the next instant her eyes had opened wide in shock as Jervis’s penis was thrust deep into her open, saliva-wet back passage. He began to bugger her and her head filled with a great wave of shame as she found herself unable to stop masturbating. Moments later she came, only to have the spasming of her anus bring him off in her rectum at the very moment her lust was at its peak. As her orgasm faded, he was still coming and she was left burning with humiliation at her own wantonness as he pulled slowly out to leave her once again with come dribbling from her bottom-hole.

  Following the party, the girls settled back to something close to the old routine. Jervis’s demand for girl’s milk proved almost as great as his father’s, although his pleasure lay more in the control it gave him and in deliberately humiliating them than the old squire’s had done. This made little difference to Octavia, who had always been excited by Jervis’s self-assurance and cruelty. Polly was less happy, but could no longer resist occasionally allowing him to bugger her. Her relationship with Richard also blossomed, which went some way to balancing the shame she felt at enjoying Jervis’s attentions.

  The principal difference to the routine was that Jervis demanded that they come to the manor to be milked. This was done once a day in the late morning, when all four girls could gather at the ma
nor, Eliza being ostensibly employed as occasional maid. Despite relief each evening, their breasts would be heavy and sore by milking time, a condition that Jervis made no secret of enjoying. By June he had a section of the stables converted to a dairy, complete with the most modern fittings. Even Polly was impressed, and took to doing all of her work at the manor, although she repeatedly complained about certain new and pointedly humiliating appointments.

  For one thing, Jervis had installed a row of three mahogany frames each designed to hold a girl and a milk pail. Now, instead of kneeling in their drawers, Octavia, Eliza and Becky were obliged to strip naked and climb on to the frame, which supported their bodies and left their breasts hanging above a pail. The rear part of the frames was somewhat elevated and, when in position, the girls’ bottoms would be thrust high in the air. This was to allow Jervis to beat them during the milking, using a broad leather belt. The first time this was done, it caused the girls to jiggle about too much and straps had to be added to keep their bodies still.

  Jervis made no secret of his delight in seeing the three girls strapped up with their bottoms high and their breasts dangling, and would often insert his penis into one or another of their vaginas when the milking was done. Polly would do the milking, then go into the straps herself while Octavia milked her and Jervis beat her bottom. Her objections to this were silenced by his demonstrating that it led to increased production and also by his pointing out the aroused state in which it invariably left her quim. He also encouraged the girls to play together after milking, and would watch and give instructions while the four of them licked and caressed each other to orgasm.