Portrait of a Disciplinarian

by Aishling Morgan

  ‘That’s my girl,’ Lias grunted, ‘my dirty, dirty little girl, licking your sister’s arsehole clean while I pull the pudding.’

  He gave another grunt, and again Stephanie thought he was going to come, but a glance showed that he was still wanking. It was more restraint than she herself was capable of showing. Hermione’s tongue was well in, and she’d put a knuckle to Stephanie’s cunt, rubbing the tiny bump from side to side. Stephanie sat up a little, her mouth falling open with a weak sob as the muscles of her thighs and bottom began to go into contraction, her quim too, while her bottom hole was pulsing on her sister’s tongue. The orgasm hit her and she was screaming out her ecstasy and wriggling her bottom in Hermione’s face, lost to everything but the exquisite sensation of having her anus licked as she was masturbated.

  Wave after wave of sensation flooded through her, until she thought she would faint, but she had barely finished before she was being rolled on to her back and her own face was sat on. Eager to return the favour, she took a single gulp of air and began to lick in her sister’s slit, enjoying the musky feminine taste and the feel of the plump young bottom cheeks spread in her face. Hermione gave an encouraging wiggle and Stephanie transferred her attention to her sister’s anus, probing at the tiny, puckered hole with the tip of her tongue.

  ‘That’s right,’ Lias grunted, ‘clean her up … taste what she does in the dunny, you dirty strumpet you …’

  Stephanie barely heard, much too busy with her sister’s bottom. Hermione had sat up, queened full on Stephanie’s face, her cheeks spread to give her sister full access to her bottom hole and to show Lias what was happening, her own fingers busy in her cunt slit. He came close, and Stephanie caught the smell of his cock as he thrust it at them. Hermione grabbed it, tugging hard at the shaft even as she rubbed herself, while Stephanie cocked her thighs open and stuck her hands between, masturbating shamelessly as she licked her sister’s bottom. She knew Lias could see her cunt, open and wet. Surely her virgin hole would be too much of a temptation for his raging erection? He’d fuck her, he had to, and with her sister’s weight on her face she’d have no chance to resist, the perfect excuse to surrender.

  She was about to beg for it, all common sense and decency lost in her need for an engorged penis up her cunt hole, but suddenly it was too late, as a jet of spunk erupted over her belly and breasts. Hermione had started to come at the same moment, and sat down firmly in Stephanie’s face, smothering her. Still Stephanie struggled to lick, pushing her tongue in up her sister’s bottom as far as it would go and holding it deep until at last Hermione dismounted to collapse exhausted on the rock.

  Lias had moved away too, but Stephanie wasn’t finished, her thighs still cocked wide as she masturbated, while with her free hand she rubbed his spunk on to her straining nipples and smeared it over her breasts and belly. Moments later she came, her second orgasm nearly as strong as the first, leaving her too weak to do anything but lie panting on the rock, her limbs spread and her lips parted, with the taste of her sister’s cunt and bottom hole still thick in her mouth.

  When she managed to pull herself up on to one elbow she realised that Lias had not been the only one to watch her perform with her sister. Singularis Porcus stood peering out from among the trees, his immense, heavily creased face set in what looked uncomfortably like lecherous amusement. She put one hand over her breasts and the other over her quim, then immediately felt silly, telling herself that it was ridiculous to be shy about a pig seeing her in the nude, especially after what she’d just done. Yet, despite the sure knowledge that she had disgraced herself beyond all hope of redemption, even if she were to be caned, naked and in front of an audience, every day for the rest of her life, she found herself unable to work up a decent sense of embarrassment.

  Five

  THE EMBARRASSMENT CAME the following morning as she lay in bed, slowly allowing herself to believe that the events of the night before had been real and not some appalling dream. She could remember every moment, from standing by the window as she plucked up the courage to go through with it, to slipping back between the welcome sheets as the first hint of dawn illuminated the ridge of Dartmoor beyond that same window.

  The operation had been a success, of that there was no doubt, and yet she was left wondering at her own behaviour, and attempting to put the most embarrassing moments of her life into their new order. Being spanked in front of Lias Snell by Hermione definitely deserved a place in the top ten, perhaps fifth or sixth, closely followed by having to ride at least two miles on a dray with her bare bottom in cold pig dung; but being made to lick her own sister’s bottom hole for a man to masturbate over put both to shame. Possibly, she considered, it was even a contender for fourth place, ahead of being caught by her great-aunt inserting the handle of a hairbrush up Hermione’s bottom; or even third, because although what she thought of as the black bottom incident had been hideously public, it had been nothing like as intimate.

  A glance at the clock showed that it was past ten, and she forced herself to sit up, well aware that laziness might be considered sufficient excuse to warm her bottom, especially by her great-aunt. At that moment the door opened and her stomach gave a lurch, but it was only Vera, holding a tray.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Stephanie,’ the maid said brightly. ‘I’ve brought you your breakfast, a bowl of American cereal, some bacon and eggs, toast and a nice glass of milk.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Stephanie answered, although there was something about the maid’s tone of voice she didn’t altogether like.

  ‘I thought you’d be hungry,’ Vera continued as she placed the tray on the bedside table, ‘after a busy night.’

  Stephanie froze.

  ‘Busy night?’

  ‘A very busy night, I should imagine,’ Vera said, smiling. ‘Out with Mr Drake, I imagine?’

  Stephanie relaxed a trifle and pretended to be busy fluffing up her pillows against the headboard. She was hoping that Vera was just guessing.

  ‘And how did those peculiar shorts you were wearing get all wet?’ the maid went on. ‘Fell in the river, did you? Because I can’t imagine you’d want to keep them on if you went for a midnight bathe, not with Mr Drake?’

  ‘I … I got them dirty,’ Stephanie admitted. ‘I had to wash them.’

  Vera gave her a knowing look.

  ‘So you were out with Mr Drake? Be careful what you say, Miss Stephanie.’

  ‘No … yes, yes I was,’ Stephanie said.

  ‘And him engaged to Miss Finch-Farmiloe,’ Vera said with a shake of her head. ‘Well, I never. You know I shall have to spank you, of course?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Stephanie answered sulkily.

  ‘Kneel up on the bed then,’ the maid instructed.

  Stephanie obeyed, grimacing furiously as she adopted the rude, humiliating position, on all fours with her face pressed down on the bed and her bottom lifted. She was in a proper nightie, but it was quickly lifted, exposing her bare bottom. Vera took a moment to stroke Stephanie’s cheeks, slipped a finger between to tickle, then began to spank. It was harder than usual, and Stephanie bit her lip in an effort not to cry out. She closed her eyes too, wondering if the maid was going to take advantage of her once the spanking was done. It had to come soon, she was sure, and chagrin mixed with desire at the thought of being made to lick the maid’s quim.

  ‘You’ve been a very bad girl,’ Vera said suddenly, ‘but at least you’re sensible.’

  The spanking had stopped as she spoke, and Stephanie gasped as the maid’s fingers found her sex lips, opening them to inspect the virgin hole between.

  ‘Intact, yes,’ Vera stated. ‘Does he make you take him in your hand, or do you suck him?’

  ‘I … I suck him,’ Stephanie admitted, blushing scarlet.

  ‘Well, at least that’s better than being made to take it up your bottom,’ the maid went on. ‘Men are such beasts, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, sometimes,’ Stephanie agreed.

  She want
ed to add that women could be just as bad, but it didn’t seem advisable in her current position. Vera had begun to spank her again, but with the other hand, while the first was still between Stephanie’s thighs, stroking her quim.

  ‘I never have anything to do with them, myself,’ Vera went on. ‘Girls are ever so much nicer, don’t you agree?’

  Stephanie made a face, not wanting to admit the pleasure she was getting from having her sex manipulated, and determined that, if she was going to lick her maid’s quim, she would be made to do it and not surrender voluntarily. She got a series of hard slaps for her impudence, but her bottom was beginning to warm up and Vera’s fingers were now rubbing in just the right place. A sigh escaped her lips as both rubbing and spanking grew firmer still, and a moment later she’d begun to come. Vera gave a soft, knowing chuckle as she brought Stephanie off, but said nothing until the last ecstatic shivers had died away.

  ‘There, that was nice, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘Not much of a punishment, perhaps, which you really do deserve, but nice. Now, why don’t you return the favour?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Stephanie asked, although she was sure she knew.

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve been naughty too?’ Vera responded. ‘I think I have, and I think I deserve a good spanking.’

  It was not at all what Stephanie had been expecting, and she could only gape in astonishment. The maid had sat down on the bed, and there was none of the usual formality in her voice.

  ‘Don’t you think so?’ Vera asked, almost pleading. ‘After all, what do you think your Mama would do if she knew I fiddle with your cunt? I’d get spanked then, maybe given the cane, so why don’t you do it? I’m sure you’d like your revenge too, wouldn’t you? Come on, Miss Stephanie, put me across your knee and spank my naughty bottom, please?’

  ‘Um …’ Stephanie began, still struggling with her emotions, but the desire for revenge came out on top. ‘Right, I will.’

  She twisted around, throwing her legs over the side of the bed to make a lap. Vera came across not just willingly but enthusiastically, scrambling into position and sticking up her bottom to make a round ball beneath her black maid’s uniform. Stephanie applied a gentle slap to the taut black bombazine.

  ‘Bare, please, Miss Stephanie,’ Vera sighed. ‘I’m sure I deserve to be made bare, and spanked hard –’

  ‘I know how to give a spanking, Vera,’ Stephanie interrupted. ‘Now be quiet.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Stephanie,’ Vera answered, her voice a whisper.

  Not wanting to hurry the operation, Stephanie took her time in lifting the maid’s dress, exposing first a cotton petticoat and then a pair of old-fashioned split-seam drawers of a sort she herself hadn’t worn since the end of the war. There were no buttons, so she simply dug her thumbs in at either side and hauled them wide, exposing Vera’s trim but distinctly womanly bottom to the air.

  After a moment spent admiring the view, she began to spank, and with every slap of her hand on the soft, resilient meat of her maid’s bottom her sense of satisfaction grew. It was wonderful to have somebody to punish instead of always getting it herself, and as Vera’s bottom became slowly rosy, Stephanie promised herself that spanking was going to become a regular occurrence for the maid.

  Vera’s full, cheeky peach was a rich pink all over before Stephanie remembered that she had been asked to return the favour, which presumably meant masturbating her now sobbing maid as well as spanking her. It had to be done, both for revenge and to play fair. From the drawer of her bedside table she extracted the Sootho, and grinned as she placed a large blob on each hot bottom cheek. Vera let out a soft whimper when she realised what was to be done to her, but stuck her bottom up to offer her quim. Stephanie laid a firm slap across the reddened cheeks.

  ‘You are a … a bad girl, Vera,’ she said.

  ‘A slut, Miss Stephanie,’ Vera answered. ‘I’m a slut … a strumpet.’

  ‘Strumpet, that’s a good word,’ Stephanie agreed, remembering that it was what Lias had called her. She began to rub the nappy cream into Vera’s bottom. ‘Yes, you’re a strumpet, and I think I shall spank you while I make you come.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Vera sighed, and gasped as Stephanie began.

  The maid’s quim was moist even before Stephanie slapped on the cream. Nor was she a virgin, whatever she had said about not letting men near her, unless something other than a cock had been inserted in a hole that took two of Stephanie’s fingers easily. She was also very rude about it all, moaning and wriggling her bottom as she was simultaneously spanked and masturbated, lacking even the decency to pretend she didn’t like what was being done to her.

  ‘You really are a strumpet, aren’t you?’ Stephanie said with a laugh, spanking harder still. ‘A dirty little strumpet. I shall spank you often, Vera, and when I have spanked you I shall make you stand in the corner with your red bottom showing to the room. How would you feel about that? You liked it when I was made to, didn’t you? But how would it feel for you, perhaps with my little sister watching? Yes, that is what I shall do. I shall spank you in front of my little sister, bare bottom, just as you are now. Maybe I’ll even let her spank you too …’

  Stephanie broke off. Vera was coming, writhing against Stephanie’s hand and gasping out her passion, shiver after shiver running through her flesh, while her bottom bounced and quivered to the furious slaps. Cruel delight filled Stephanie as she brought Vera off, and she was still grinning when the maid slumped panting on to the floor.

  The smile remained on Stephanie’s face as she washed, threw on a light dress without bothering about underwear, slapped her school boater on her head and made her way downstairs. Spanking Vera had been immensely satisfying and had even helped to remove the shame of her behaviour the night before, leaving only the nervous thrill of knowing that the giant pig was now safely ensconced in the woods – a feeling magnified a dozen times when she caught the sound of voices from the breakfast room, her grandfather’s and that of Sir Murgatroyd Drake.

  ‘Good morning, Grandpapa,’ she said as she entered. ‘Good morning, Sir Murgatroyd.’

  Her grandfather made a polite response. Sir Murgatroyd Drake ignored her, his face much the same colour as Stephanie and Vera’s bottoms had been a half-hour before, his moustache quivering with rage as he addressed Sir Richard, who had been reading the morning paper and had lowered it only slightly to address his visitor.

  ‘You, sir, are despicable, a disgrace to the county and to the Empire!’ Sir Murgatroyd stormed, thrusting out an accusing finger.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Sir Richard responded calmly. ‘Sit down. Help yourself to a fried egg. Or perhaps some kedgeree?’

  ‘I do not want a fried egg,’ Sir Murgatroyd snapped, ‘nor any kedgeree, and you know perfectly well what is the matter, you pig thief … you swine rustler, you …’

  ‘You don’t mean to say somebody has pinched your pig?’ Sir Richard broke in, his puzzled tone giving way to open amusement, which caused Sir Murgatroyd’s face to darken from smacked-bottom red to the shade of old burgundy.

  ‘As you know perfectly well!’ he roared. ‘I … I shall have you expelled from your clubs!’

  ‘I don’t have any,’ Sir Richard pointed out.

  ‘Thrown off the hunt committee!’ Sir Murgatroyd thundered.

  ‘I own the kennels, and most of the horses.’

  ‘Disbarred from the Tamar Valley and West Devon Association of Pig Breeders!’

  ‘I doubt it, not if it means the Porker’s out of the running for the show, and besides, I’m not sure why you should assume I stole your rotten pig. You’ll probably find it was the work of some public-spirited group dedicated to good causes. You know, like the chaps who provide soup to the poor of Exeter and Plymouth.’

  ‘What would they want with my pig?’ Sir Murgatroyd demanded.

  ‘Bacon? Ham? Chops? Trotters in vinegar even,’ Sir Richard suggested as the colour of Sir Murgatroyd’s face continued to darken, from a somewhat y
ounger burgundy through ripe fig to a rich mulberry purple. ‘There would be enough to feed a whole platoon of paupers, I should think. Are you sure you won’t have some breakfast? We have devilled ham, and some excellent kidneys.’

  ‘I do not wish breakfast!’ Sir Murgatroyd answered. ‘I came here to demand the return of my prize pig, and if he is not forthcoming, to call you out!’

  ‘I do not have your pig, and therefore I am not in a position to return it,’ Sir Richard responded. ‘As to calling me out, aren’t you a little behind the times? Nobody’s fought a duel in these parts for years, and besides, as a magistrate, shouldn’t you be setting a good example?’

  ‘There are times when a gentleman has no choice,’ Sir Murgatroyd replied, his voice now cold and his face once more of a smacked-bottom hue.

  ‘Perhaps true,’ Sir Richard admitted, ‘but this is not, I feel, such an occasion. Nevertheless, if you insist, I can hardly refuse, so if you still feel the same way when you’ve calmed down a little, send your second round and he can arrange matters with, let me see … Stiffy, do you fancy being my second in a duel? It might be rather fun.’

  ‘Me?’ Stephanie queried.

  ‘Your granddaughter!?’ Sir Murgatroyd demanded. ‘Are you trying to make a mockery of me?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Sir Richard replied. ‘If she is to have the vote, she can stand as second in a duel. We will expect your challenge.’

  ‘You shall have it!’ Sir Murgatroyd promised. He turned on his heel and left.

  ‘What a frightful temper,’ Sir Richard remarked, putting down his paper. ‘Are you about to have breakfast, or would you care to stroll down for a look at the Emperor? If that buffoon’s animal really has been stolen, then I fancy we’re in the running for a gold medal.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Stephanie offered, realising that there would be no better time to extract a loan from him, ‘but you’re not really going to fight Sir Murgatroyd, are you?’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ he said as they stepped out on to the terrace, ‘but yes, if I have to.’