‘No, please, Myrtle,’ Stephanie begged, but she lacked the willpower to try and pull away.
‘I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?’ Myrtle assured her, rolling the egg up the groove of Stephanie’s sex. ‘And so …’
Stephanie cried out as the egg was abruptly crushed against her quim, bursting to spatter her flesh with slippery mess and bits of shell. Then her cry broke off as Myrtle’s mouth found hers. She surrendered immediately, unable to resist the kiss even though it brought hotter shame than all the rest of the indignities she had been forced to endure. Myrtle was rubbing her and, as their tongues entwined, she thought she was going to be brought off. But then her tormentor suddenly jumped back.
‘Not yet, Stiffy,’ said Myrtle with a laugh. ‘I haven’t finished with you, not by a long way. All right, you can sit down.’
‘Must I?’ Stephanie asked.
‘Yes.’
Stephanie made a face but obeyed, lowering herself gingerly on to a rock. She felt the eggs in her shorts touch the hard granite and press out to the sides, then, as her weight settled, one broke, and another. She gave in, setting her full weight upon the rock, her expression one of disgust as more eggs broke, smearing her bottom with mess and squashing up over her already filthy quim. Some had gone up between her bottom cheeks, squeezing out at the back, while bits soon began to fall out of her leg holes, to land on the ground with thick, wet plops. Myrtle was grinning with delight, and waited for a while before giving her next instruction.
‘Stand up again. Let me see.’
Rising, Stephanie turned to show off her bottom, first sideways and then with it stuck out. Quite a lot of egg was on the ground or running down her thighs, but her drawers still felt heavy, and they and her shorts had pulled down further, leaving the upper half of her bottom slit showing.
‘Disgusting!’ Myrtle said happily. ‘But your bulge is rather too saggy now. I preferred it when it stuck out.’
‘You shouldn’t have made me break the eggs, then,’ Stephanie said.
‘Perhaps not,’ Myrtle admitted. ‘Oh, well, there’ll be another time. I’ll feed you until your stomach is about to burst, then make you do it properly and take photographs of you with your drawers full of your dirt, which I’ll send to all your friends and your bumptious little sister. She’s quite the little brat now, isn’t she? I don’t suppose you’ve told her what you’re really like?’
‘No,’ Stephanie confessed.
‘Maybe I’ll tell her myself,’ Myrtle suggested, ‘in a letter, along with the photograph, or I don’t suppose she’d believe her precious big sister could be reduced to being my plaything. How would you like –’
She broke off, laughing, as a larger mass of broken egg detached itself from the mess in Stephanie’s shorts and fell to the ground with a squelch.
‘Please don’t,’ Stephanie begged.
‘I’ll do as I please,’ Myrtle responded, ‘but if you’re a very, very good girl I might just let you off. Lie down on your back and keep that shirt up.’
Stephanie got down, sitting in the puddle of mess at her feet and lying back against a low bank of grass and moss. Her shirt had slipped down a little and she lifted it back, displaying her egg-stained breasts once more. She had guessed what was coming, and found herself unable to close her mouth, her jaw was trembling so much. Myrtle, after a quick glance to make sure they were truly alone, hoisted up her bright yellow dress. Beneath it she had on tight, frilly drawers and one of the new bras in a matching style, cut to flatten her breasts. She took both off, to stand naked but for her shoes, stockings and the yellow hat that went with her dress. Stephanie swallowed, her eyes fixed on to the low, furry mound between Myrtle’s thighs.
‘You first,’ Myrtle said, her voice now thick with desire. ‘In your drawers, but you’re to let me see too.’
‘All right,’ Stephanie answered, and her legs parted, displaying the bulging, egg-soaked crotch of her shorts. Their legs were so loose that she could pull one aside, exposing the gusset of her ruined drawers to Myrtle’s excited gaze. Her bladder was already tense, full from the coffee and milk she’d drunk at breakfast, but it still took an effort to let go. A low moan escaped her lips as she did, a little fountain of pee erupting into her drawers and quickly soaking through, to dribble down into the slimy mess between her cheeks and the rock beneath. She pushed, letting it squirt out, and abruptly jerked her drawers aside, showing off her filthy quim to Myrtle as the pee gushed freely, rising in a high yellow arc that spattered down into the pool.
She sobbed as she wet herself, her legs cocked as wide as they would go and her virgin cunt flaunted to her tormentor, who watched with eager fascination as the pee continued to gush out and spread into a broad, dark stain on the rock beneath Stephanie’s bottom. Twice she closed her gusset while her pee was still flowing, deliberately soiling herself, and again when her stream finally died, to let the last of it trickle down into the bulging mess within her drawers. Arching her back, she began to play with her quim and breasts, her head turned to the side and her eyes shut as her pleasure rose, too far gone to even feel ashamed of herself as she began to masturbate.
‘My turn,’ Myrtle said. ‘Look at me, Stiffy.’
Stephanie turned her head once more, her eyes wide as Myrtle stepped close. She was shaking so badly she could barely control the movement of her fingers over her filthy nipples and egg-smeared cunt.
‘That’s my girl,’ Myrtle sighed as she straddled her and pushed out her belly. ‘Open wide, Stiffy, and I’ll do it in your mouth, the way you like it … here you are.’
Mouth as wide as it would go, one hand busy with her cunt and the other with a nipple, Stephanie leant up, offering herself as a receptacle for Myrtle’s urine. It came, a golden spurt that splashed in Stephanie’s face and ran down her neck, then more, full in her mouth, to bubble from the sides and run down her breasts.
‘Drink it,’ Myrtle gasped, ‘drink it all up, Stiffy. Oh, I’ve missed this so much.’
Stephanie swallowed even as Myrtle spoke, deliberately filling her stomach with the hot, pungent urine, but letting the next mouthful spill out over her lower lip, not to waste it but to catch it in her hand and wet her breasts. More came, now a thick stream, and Stephanie closed her eyes and leant closer still, letting Myrtle’s pee wash over her face. Again her mouth opened wide and again she swallowed what she was given, masturbating furiously as she was pissed on, her fingers working in the slime of her cunt as the orgasm began to rise in her head.
Myrtle moaned, pressing her sex to Stephanie’s lips with the pee still coming. She was forced to swallow and it broke the rhythm of her masturbation, but she began to lick, with the piddle splashing in her face as her tongue worked among the folds of Myrtle’s quim. At last the stream of pee began to die, allowing Stephanie to swallow a final mouthful and use her tongue properly, while her fingers once more found the right rhythm between her own slippery cunt lips. Myrtle pressed forward, her quim pushing hard against Stephanie’s mouth, her gasps growing louder as they started to come, together. Her thighs squeezed in Stephanie’s face, fresh fluid erupted from her pee-hole, and as she came she was begging to be licked harder and telling the girl she’d just degraded how much she loved her.
Seven
‘SHE WAS ABSOLUTELY horrible to me,’ Stephanie declared. ‘Look what she did!’
As she spoke she pulled up her dress, exposing her bare bottom. Hermione gave a low gasp and put her hand to her mouth.
‘She put a load of eggs down my drawers and made me sit on them,’ Stephanie explained, ‘and other things. I hate her!’
She craned back to inspect her rear cheeks, not for the first time. They were covered in tiny red scratches from the eggshell, standing out from a more general pink but blending in with the harsh cane welts.
‘Your poor bottom,’ Hermione sighed. ‘And she spanked you too?’
‘No,’ Stephanie answered with rising feeling as she let her dress drop. ‘That was Aunt Lavinia a
nd Aunt Edith. By the time Myrtle had finished with me I was utterly filthy, and she didn’t help at all but just walked off. I had to wash, and that meant stripping off completely and going in the pool. It took ages to get all the egg out of my hair, never mind my clothes, and of course they were soaking wet afterwards, and you know how long these shorts take to dry. What was I supposed to do except lay everything out to dry?’
‘Yes, but you couldn’t tell the aunts what had really happened,’ Hermione pointed out.
‘Of course not,’ Stephanie agreed, ‘that would only have made it worse. Not that it could have been much worse. I didn’t think they’d be looking for me, and I was getting bored just sitting there, so … so I decided to diddle myself, and I was just getting started when who should turn up but the aunts! They spanked me so hard, turn and turn about, with me over one’s lap while the other rested her hand. I lost count of how many times they swapped me over!’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘They didn’t give me a chance. They knew about the eggs, so maybe if I’d just been in the nude I’d have got away with it, but they’d seen what I was doing. Then they made me bring Great-auntie a note saying what I’d done. You can imagine how embarrassing that was, and so that’s why I got done at tea, in front of the vicar! It’s so unfair!’
She pulled a face as she finished. Her bottom still smarted, and she put her hands back to rub her cheeks. She had returned just an hour before, following the painful events on the moor, at least the later half of which had happened exactly as she’d described them to Hermione. Her great-aunt Victoria had been furious about what had happened at the Brown Shorts rally as well, which had made the spanking both harder and more prolonged.
‘There’s one good thing,’ Hermione said. ‘Now we’re not allowed to be in the Brown Shorts any more it’ll make our alibi even better if we’re spotted taking the pig to the station. But anyway, what are you doing getting engaged to that nut Attwater?’
‘It all got a bit confused,’ Stephanie said. ‘I thought that if he was my fiancé I’d be able to touch him for enough to get to London, and he’s more or less admitted that he intends to spank me when I’m his wife, and that probably means before, so it will be easy to break it off, but I had second thoughts, and he got the wrong end of the stick, and …’
She trailed off with a despairing gesture.
‘You didn’t need to do that!’ Hermione answered. ‘To get money, all you have to do is hold Porker up.’
‘What, rob him?’
‘Yes, why not? He must be carrying hundreds!’
‘But H …’
‘Don’t be wet, Stiffy.’
‘It’s not that, but what am I supposed to do? He’ll recognise me, and besides, he’s a sort of human gorilla. He’ll just laugh at me.’
‘Biff him on the head with something, from behind.’
‘Biff him on the head? I can hardly reach his head.’
‘Nonsense. Put a lump of granite in one of your socks. That’ll see to him.’
‘What if I don’t knock him out? What if I kill him?’
‘Make your mind up! Look, it’s easy, you just give him a sort of medium tap, not too soft and not too hard. You see people do it in the films all the time.’
‘What people?’
‘Oh, you know, gangsters, hoodlums, bootleggers …’
‘You’ve been spending too much time at the cinema, Hermione … How do you manage to sneak off to Plymouth? The aunts would never let you watch that sort of film.’
‘Porker takes me to see educational films,’ Hermione explained, ‘or at least that’s what we tell the aunts.’
‘I bet you do,’ Stephanie answered, ‘so that’s … that’s what you’ve been up to.’
She had only just caught herself before revealing the full extent of her knowledge, and went on quickly.
‘All right, if it’s so easy, you do it.’
‘You’re the one who wants the money.’
‘Don’t you? I’ll go halves, after expenses of course.’
Hermione paused for thought, then spoke again.
‘It would be awkward if he called the police.’
‘A little, yes!’ Stephanie agreed. ‘And Mama says she’ll leave me in the jug if I get pinched again, for anything at all, never minding socking a curate with a lump of granite. What would that count as, anyway?’
‘I think it’s called robbery with an offensive weapon,’ Hermione said doubtfully, ‘or something like that, but I don’t suppose you get the option of a fine.’
‘No,’ Stephanie agreed, ‘probably not. Look, H., why …’
She trailed off, wondering how to phrase her suggestion without giving herself away, then realised that it wasn’t hard at all.
‘He’s jolly keen on you, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘And I bet he’d like to make a beast of himself if you offered, maybe to suck his cock –’
‘I couldn’t!’ Hermione broke in. ‘That’s disgusting!’
‘Tug him off then.’
‘Stiffy! I couldn’t, not ever, not –’
‘Why not?’ Stephanie demanded. ‘You were going to with Lias Snell, and he’s a grubby old drayman, so why not Porker?’
‘I just don’t want to,’ Hermione said, putting on her most sulky face. ‘Why don’t you do it? He’s probably still at the show, so you could meet him in the lanes near Bridestowe, start talking to him, and suggest going in among the bushes, or …’
‘He’d realise I was up to something,’ Stephanie objected.
‘He’d realise I was up to something too.’
‘No, he wouldn’t. He’d probably think … oh, for goodness sake, H., I know he makes you tug him off when you have piano lessons, and spanks you, and has all your clothes off, and …’
Hermione had gone crimson. Stephanie stopped and shrugged.
‘Sorry, H. I watched,’ she admitted. ‘But I wasn’t peeping, I … I just don’t like him making you do dirty things, and … and I went to talk to him about it, and he laughed at me and said you liked it, and that afterwards you … you diddled yourself. Don’t worry if it’s true. I’m just the same. I … I like sucking Lias Snell’s cock, but I hate it too. It’s like that for you with Porker, isn’t it?’
It had all come out in a rush, and she had only just stopped herself confessing the truth about Myrtle. Hermione said nothing, but she looked angry and embarrassed.
‘Sorry I peeped,’ Stephanie said quickly. ‘Please don’t be cross. Maybe … maybe you should spank me, but not now. I’m awfully sore behind, and …’
She stopped as Hermione shook her head.
‘I’m not going to spank you, but you shouldn’t have peeped.’
‘Sorry. Do you want to tell me about it or not?’
Hermione nodded, and after a deep sigh she began to speak.
‘He tricked me into it. When I first started going for piano lessons he was ever so stuffy, but perfectly proper. The aunts think he’s wonderful, so when he suggested that he should take me into Plymouth to see an educational music film they let us go. He took me to see “The Jazz Singer”, which has sound and everything, and I suppose is about music, but we both knew the aunts would disapprove, so it became our little secret. Next he took me to see “The General”, which is jolly funny, and afterwards he stood me dinner and cocktails … several cocktails. On the drive back he parked up on Roborough Down and started telling me how much he loved me and trying to kiss me. I wouldn’t, and he got in a tizzy, crying his eyes out and begging me to do all sorts of rude things. In the end I agreed to show him my top.’
‘While he tugged his cock?’
‘No, that came later. He’s really sneaky, because he never actually said he’d tell the aunts what we’d been up to, but I knew he would …’
‘No he wouldn’t! You’d get caned, but he’d get thrown out of the church.’
‘That’s what I told myself,’ Hermione answered, and Stephanie nodded understandingly as her sister
carried on. ‘Once I’d shown him my top there was no going back. Next he wanted to see my bottom, then have me in the altogether while I played piano. He made a little game of it, so I have to strip if I can’t do my piece properly, and the third or fourth time he got his thingy out on me. Next he added spankings, and having to tug him.’
‘I saw,’ Stephanie said, ‘all over your titties.’
‘He’s a dirty pig,’ Hermione answered, making a face, ‘and so sneaky. He said I had to diddle myself in front of him for a punishment, not all the way, but you know how it feels, and I’d got there before I could stop myself. Now I always do it. I have to.’
‘I understand,’ Stephanie said softly and put an arm around her sister’s shoulders.
‘Now he wants me to suck his thingy,’ Hermione went on, ‘and he says he’d like to stick it up my bottom, and do you know the worst thing? I think I’m going to let him. What am I going to do, Stiffy?’
‘I don’t know,’ Stephanie answered, ‘but I’m going to biff him with a lump of granite in a sock.’
As Stephanie stood in the hedge beside the narrow lane between Bridestowe and the Okehampton Road she was beginning to realise that were considerable drawbacks to the project. It was all very well to talk of biffing curates with weighted socks, but the Reverend Benjamin Porthwell was an exceptionally large curate, and once biffed would be impossible to move, forcing her to complete the deed in the middle of the road. Also, he had been at the show in a suit rather than a cassock, so the money would presumably be easy enough to find, but the thought of rifling his pockets while he lay unconscious and possibly bloody in the road made her hesitate.
Nevertheless, she had promised her sister, and a promise was a promise. She had also paused a while to admire the portrait of Devil John Truscott that hung in the hall. Devil John, she was sure, would not have hesitated for a moment. He would simply have biffed his curate, pinched the money and gone his way with a merry song on his lips. She planned to do the same.
Portrait of a Disciplinarian Page 17
