by Penny Birch
It was just right, quickly bringing the warmth to my cheeks and allowing me to feel I was being punished. As I undoubtedly deserved to be for what I’d done. Everything I’d done, from prostituting myself in the first place, allowing him to tie me and strip me, but best of all, for enjoying what should have been an experience too degrading for any woman to even contemplate, but coming while it was done to me.
I cried out as my muscles went tight. His smacks got harder and I was there, coming and coming again in a string of urgent, powerful orgasms that had me bucking and jerking in the bonds that still held me to the bed. He only stopped when he finally got fed up with applying his hand to my wriggling bottom.
Chapter Seven
Mr Morozov had taken me somewhere I never been before and I was completely happy about it. All the more so for the contents of the envelope he’d left on the mantelpiece at the end. That had always been a pet fantasy of mine, to have men visit me for sex and then discreetly leave me money on the mantelpiece; so it was rather nice anyway, but even in my wildest fantasies I’d never expected to be paid so much. I knew he was rich, and that high-class call girls charged the earth, but we hadn’t even agreed a figure. Not that I was complaining, and the money went straight into my building society account, which was beginning to look really quite healthy. A few more clients like him and I wouldn’t just be helping with a contribution to my expenses for uni, I’d have covered them with money to spare.
Among the other staff, only Mr and Mrs Hegedus knew what I’d done. He was plainly jealous and also fascinated; while she pretended to be full of sympathy. But there was a prurient touch to her questions that left me in no doubt that the idea excited her. I did wonder if Stefan and Chris might have guessed, or put two and two together. But they couldn’t be sure, and it seemed to be the sort of behaviour they expected of me anyway. There was also Morris, who came down in person to congratulate me, treated me to lobster and a bottle of expensive wine for lunch, then steered me out of the hotel and up the path to the downs with his arm around my shoulder.
‘There’s no other girl like you,’ he was saying for about the tenth time. ‘There really isn’t. And willing to do it again!’
‘Why not? It was nice.’
‘Wonderful, that’s the spirit! And Karay I expect will be equally enthusiastic, which will go a long way to allowing me to cement a certain deal I’ve been working on. They’re tricky, these Russians, you see. But I can’t see him backing out now.’
‘You wouldn’t blackmail him, would you, Morris, because that would mean I ...’
‘Jemima, please!’ he interrupted. ‘That is a very strong word. No, absolutely not. Let’s just say that the secret we share will ensure that he doesn’t feel tempted to invest elsewhere. After all, these are difficult times and banks are beginning to refuse credit to what would normally be seen as perfectly safe ventures. Hence my agreement for private finance with Morozov, which will give me an edge over my competitors in what looks like being a very tough market for several years. Now, my dear, there’s something else I want you to do for me, another nice little earner.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well, do you remember how popular you were with the gentlemen when you were spanked by Pippa?’
‘And when I spanked her, yes.’
‘Exactly. It went down well, didn’t it? Well, one or two of the gentlemen have been asking for more of the same.’
‘That’s fine. You know I don’t mind playing with Pippa.’
‘Not Pippa, no.’
‘Who then?’
‘Your er ... stepmother, Danielle.’
I stopped dead, horrified, the image of me bare-bottom over Danielle’s lap in front of a couple of dozen dirty old men already burning in my head.
‘No way! And she is not my stepmother!’
Morris spread his hands.
‘Details, details. This is business, Jemima. You’ve always been a sensible girl when it comes to business.’
‘I don’t care! I can’t!’
‘What’s the matter? She’s already spanked you, hasn’t she?’
‘That’s not ... How do you know she spanked me?’
‘You’d be surprised at what I know,’ he answered, ‘and how I come by the knowledge, but in this case there’s no mystery. She told me.’
‘Why? How do you know her? OK, I suppose you must have met her when you were working with my dad on that Thames Vista thing. But how did you know she was into spanking?’
‘My dear Jemima, do credit me with some intelligence. I’ve been spanking girls since long before you were born and you quickly come to recognise the willing ones; the way they dress, the way they move, a certain self-consciousness about their bottoms, a spark of interest if that all important word is mentioned. The same goes for the ones who like to dish it out, only from a different perspective.’
‘And Danielle?’
‘She threatened to spank your sister. Not seriously, of course. It was just a remark she made, intended to put Pippa in her place when she was getting a bit bossy, but I could tell there was real feeling underneath.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I suggested she might like to come to a party, of course.’
‘To the secretary of a business associate? A woman about half your age?’
‘Not half my age, thank you, Jemima. And why not? The worst she could do was refuse and complain to your dad, who’s hardly going to jeopardise his part in a multi-million pound contract, just to placate a prissy secretary. Besides, I knew she needed money, because her divorce still hadn’t gone through and the lawyers’ bills were mounting up.’
‘So Danielle came to a party?’
‘Yes, while you were in the States. Only the one, but she introduced her uncle to me. He was manager here at the Friston. It was in a sorry state then and about to go under. So I bought it and kept him on.’
‘That explains a lot. Thanks, Morris.’
‘Not at all. Now, about your spanking from Danielle ...’
‘I didn’t agree ...’
‘About your spanking from Danielle,’ he repeated firmly. ‘Everybody loved seeing you and Pippa punish each other, and we could charge a great deal more if we put on a special show. We need the right woman, of course. And Danielle is perfect. Not many people know her, she looks quite like you ...’
‘She does not!’
‘Really quite like you,’ he insisted, ‘and definitely attractive, a good spanker too. You should have seen how she dealt with Annabelle ...’
‘I can guess!’ I interrupted. ‘But look Morris, I –’
‘And most importantly, she’s thirty-six, so just the right age.’
‘The right age for what?’ I asked, and then it had sunk in. ‘Oh no, Morris ...’
‘To be your mother,’ he carried on, oblivious to the growing horror on my face. ‘I’ve promised them a genuine mother and daughter spanking, you see.’
‘No, Morris, that’s going too far,’ I blustered. ‘And anyway, too many of the men know me, and Pippa. They’d realise, sooner or later. Anyway, what does Danielle have to say about it? All she’s interested in is getting her hooks into my dad.’
‘Naturally we wouldn’t have the usual crowd,’ he went on, ‘And one or two of them would know what was happening. I was thinking more of a select group of foreign gentlemen. As to Danielle, she is a very avaricious young lady and sure to agree if I put enough on the table.’
‘So she gets to spank me and gets extra money?’
‘So you’re not entirely averse to the suggestion then?’
‘I didn’t say that!’
‘You implied it, and no, she does not get more. I’ll match your money.’
‘And most of it still goes into your pocket?’
‘Naturally. There are few things I enjoy more than seeing you spanked, my dear, but business is business. So, how about it?’
We’d reached the top of the trees and I sat down on a stile where the
cliff path split in two. I was trying to tell myself it was just one more spanking, and for a lot of money, but it was no good. Having Danielle do it was too shameful, too intimate, and the thought of letting her pretend to be my mother was unbearable. I shook my head.
‘Sorry, Morris. I’d do it for you, but not with Danielle. You see, she didn’t tell you everything. When she spanked me it ... It wasn’t play, it was for real. Family discipline.’
The admission had brought me close to tears, not only for what she did to me, but for something far worse: the way I reacted. That was not something I was about to admit to Morris, who was looking at me with a mixture of sympathy and interest, but no surprise.
‘So I understand, from her. But I wasn’t sure whether to believe it, knowing how much you enjoy a good spanking. Genuine family discipline, eh? Why?’
‘For refusing to do as I was told. And no, it wasn’t just an excuse. She ... she held me down, and took my jeans down to ... to do it on my knickers. She’s a bitch.’
He reached out to ruffle my hair, but he’d begun to look thoughtful, and I could see he was calculating how much extra he could charge if he managed to present my spanking as a genuine mother to daughter punishment, rather than one done purely for money. I made to protest, only to stop as a deliciously wicked idea entered my head; an idea that would not only be immensely satisfying, but that might make the perfect revenge.
‘I’ve got a better idea. What if I was to spank Summer?’
Just for a moment he looked doubtful, but only for a moment.
‘Summer? Now there’s a thought! Would you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you don’t mind me saying she’s your real sister?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘Would she let you?’
‘I ... I don’t now. Maybe ... she’s fun, and Danielle threatened to let her watch my punishment, so I suppose she gets it herself. And if she’s anything like her mum she’d go for the money.’
‘Most girls do,’ Morris remarked, ‘if you offer them enough, and I expect she’s no better. Hmm ... naturally you would have to present it to her in the right way, and we still need that element of reality which men find so important. Danielle might prove a problem as well, but ...’
He was thinking aloud, and trailed off, staying silent for a while before smacking his hands together in satisfaction.
‘Excellent! So, if you’ve walked off lunch, how about a nice slow blow job to say thank you?’
Morris got his blow job, in the same hollow where Penny spanked me. It seemed only fair, and, in a funny sort of way, right. After all he was my boss and it wasn’t the first time anyway, because he always had one of the girls do it after his parties. He’d been nice about my refusal to be spanked by Danielle as well, although I knew he’d have problems telling his clients it wasn’t going to happen after all. Then again, the prospect of me dealing with Summer instead was sure to get them going.
It was only after he’d gone off to help arrange something that was happening the next day that I began to feel guilty for what I’d suggested. After all, it wasn’t her fault that her mother was a complete bitch and it wouldn’t have been fair to punish her the way Danielle had punished me. I’d have to make it fun for her, which meant not being too rough, while I couldn’t imagine her being able to cope with getting it in the middle of a ring of leering men, whatever the circumstances. Not everybody is like me.
That meant I’d have to be clever, maybe seduce her first, a thought that made me shiver with anticipation. She was certainly cute, very slim with a little round bottom and long legs, so like me that nobody would be surprised to be told we were sisters, but with naturally golden hair instead of brown. To get her into bed for sex would be deliciously naughty, and a good start to my revenge. That meant Danielle would have to find out, but I could take a spanking in a good cause and that was really the most she could do to me. After all, she had to keep Dad happy, and murdering his daughter wasn’t going to go down too well. Summer’s spanking would be the icing on the cake; thick sweet icing in rainbow colours with lots of fancy bits. My revenge would be complete, and all the better as I’d have to be honest with Summer, which meant she’d enjoy it and have accepted money. Danielle would be furious. Arranging it was another matter, with Summer at home and me at the hotel, but there had to be some way of getting around that.
They were expecting me to go back to work, but the hotel was very quiet. There wasn’t even anybody at the desk, but there was a letter for me, a thick, brown envelope written in a curious, angular hand. I guessed what it was immediately and hurried back to my chalet, my face hot with blushes just for the thought of what I was about to see.
I locked the door and shut the curtains, carefully this time as the last thing I wanted was Mr Hegedus peeping in on me. Sure enough, the enveloped contained a brief note from Mr Morozov and prints of the photos he had taken. I could only stare, mouth open in shock and delight at my own filthy behaviour as I went through them, and again, all the while with my excitement building up inside me. The first ones were just plain rude, with me tied over the bolster with my knickers down and my tits popped out of my top, bumhole and pussy flaunted for all to see. Then came the ones after I’d been hooded, less sexy and a bit scary because you couldn’t tell that I was enjoying myself. Next came the really strong ones, with me mounted and the hood still over my head, which would have been enough to get Mr Morozov locked up for ever if I’d taken them to the police and claimed I’d been unwilling. The last ones were the best, once the pillow case was off, because you could see my face, with Mr Morozov’s spunk in my hair and down my cheeks, my face sulky or full of bliss but quite obviously enjoying my humping. And last of all, the pictures of my fucked pussy.
By the time I’d looked through them the second time I’d pulled up my uniform skirt and was rubbing myself through my knickers. I could have finished off then and there, over the photo of my straining pussy hole with his meat in me, and his big, dark balls hanging down, but forced myself to hold back as I laid out the entire set, over fifty pictures. It was almost too much to take in, picture after picture, displaying my utter degradation to the world, because I could be very sure the bastard was going to put them up on the net and let all the other filthy perverts enjoy the sight of me getting humped; men and women too, hands on cocks and fingers on pussies as they brought themselves off over my shame.
I came on that thought with a sharp, sudden orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. My head was now so full of those obscene images that I didn’t need to look any more, but lay back, pushed down my panties and got to work on my bare cunt; bringing myself to orgasm after orgasm, until at last I was simply too sore to go on, with every muscle of my hips and thighs and belly aching, my fingers too, so that I barely had the strength to fiddle with myself. That didn’t make the pictures go away, and I lay there for a long time, whimpering gently for the state I was in and wishing I was back in the Honeymoon Suite, bound and hooded with eight inches of thick, red cock up my cunt.
When somebody started pounding on the door I nearly leapt out of my skin, and I was very glad indeed that I’d locked it, as an instant later Mrs Hegedus called out, while trying the handle at the same time. ‘Are you in there, Jemima? There is work to be done!’
‘Yes, Mrs Hegedus. Sorry, Mrs Hegedus,’ I babbled, frantically pulling my knickers up. ‘I’m just coming.’
I gathered the pictures up fast, but making very sure I found every single one. Then I hid them under the mattress, for once glad that I was expected to do my own cleaning and so wasn’t likely to get caught out. With my skirt smoothed down and my hair hurriedly sorted out, I unlocked the door and jerked it open, to find Mrs Hegedus still there, her hands on her hips and her big, homely face set in a scowl of disapproval.
‘What do you think you’re doing, you useless girl?’ she demanded. ‘There are guests. Come on!’
She finished her remark with a smack to my bottom, and for one moment I though
t she was going to spank me then and there; but it was just that she, like everybody else, seemed to think that slapping my bum was the best way to make me do anything. I hurried towards the main buildings with her following, to find that the hotel reception, which had been empty earlier was now crowded with people. One of them I recognised immediately: fat Monty Hartle, computer geek and convicted panty thief, propping up his bulk on the bar with a pint of lager in one hand. The man next to him was even larger, tall as well as fat, with ginger hair in a flat top cut. Both were in combat gear, although it was hard to imagine two less likely soldiers. Chris gave me a curt signal and I went behind the bar, greeting Monty as he swallowed what remained in his glass at a gulp.
‘I’ll have another of those, please. Jemima, isn’t it, Penny’s niece?’
‘I’m a cousin of sorts, really,’ I explained. ‘I just call her auntie. You’re Monty, aren’t you?’
‘Yup, and this is Jeff. Jeff, say hello to Jemima, who I believe is hot to trot?’
It was a question, and he finished with a slow, heavy wink.
‘Um ... is there a party, tonight? If so, yes, I’m up for it, if you’re good boys.’
I was being cheeky, as they were both at least twice my age, if still young by the standards of Morris’s gentlemen, but I knew Monty’s reputation.
‘Don’t think so,’ he answered, ‘unless we make one ourselves. We’re fox hunting tomorrow. Morris has given Razorback an exclusive booking.’
‘Fox hunting?’ I queried.
‘You know, a girl in the nude with a tail up her bum and a mask on, getting chased around by a load of guys, girls too. If we catch her we get to fuck her.’
He said it with such open relish that I found myself blushing and took a moment to reply. ‘Oh, right. Who’s the girl?’
‘Melody’s Annabelle.’
I’d half expected him to say it was me, although Morris would presumably have told me earlier, and felt an odd little stab of disappointment. Annabelle was a good choice though, very athletic, but if she was around her mistress couldn’t be far away.
