by Penny Birch
‘You’re not cross with me then?’
‘No. I’m all right about it, but you should have told me.’
‘We’re not supposed to. Normally the girls don’t even know they’re being watched.’
‘If you want a good relationship you have to have trust. Be honest, that way you get what you want.’
‘That doesn’t always work.’
‘It worked with me, didn’t it?’
‘It was the first time in years.’
I was about to suggest he’d do better if he lost a bit of weight, about ten stone, but I could see it would make him feel self-conscious. He sounded maudlin enough as it was, so I bit the words back. Anyway, if he hadn’t been so fat I wouldn’t have gone with him in the first place, which was a fine piece of irony.
‘Cheer up,’ I told him. ‘You’re not the one who’s supposed to be sulky, I am, and you’re supposed to punish me.’
‘How? You’re doing about a hundred.’
‘I’m doing ninety-five, but I’ll go faster if you like. Add speeding to my list of offences.’
‘OK. I’ll spank you this evening, in our hotel room.’
‘Good, but you’d have saved a lot of trouble if you’d done it to me earlier, maybe even in the woods.’
‘You’d have lost it.’
‘Sure, until my bum was all warm and rosy. You’ve got to take charge sometimes, you know, Monty. Sometimes it’s best not to ask. Sometimes it’s best to just do it.’
‘You get into trouble that way. I do anyway.’
‘Yeah, well you have to know when, don’t you?’
‘How?’
‘Body language, little hints in conversation. OK, fair enough, it took me ages to get my first proper spanking, but in future, if you think I need punishment, you don’t need to ask. I’ll use my stop word if it’s not the right time.’
‘OK, so how often do you like it?’
‘Honestly, Monty! Do I have to tell you everything? What’s the matter? You managed all right when I was being your sex slave.’
‘Yeah, well, you’d promised to do as you were told.’
‘OK then, I’m promising now. As soon as the door closes on our room tonight I’m your sex slave, only no pizza this time.’
‘How about knicker-wetting? You liked pissing in your knickers, didn’t you?’
‘Knicker-wetting’s fine, just no pizza.’
We had cleared the air, and built up a fine sense of anticipation as well. I’d wanted him to make me pull off so that he could spank me in the woods, but I was content to wait and let it build up. Until then I’d really had no idea where I was going, but we were nearly at Petersfield, and there was a sort of cross between a hotel and a country pub Percy had once taken me to nearby, the War Down Man, which seemed ideal.
It was very proper for one thing, with the sort of reserved English atmosphere that Percy always says is ideal for spanking girls. I understood what he meant, as it was easy to imagine a bit of discipline being handed out to some wayward barmaid by the landlord, who was a huge, gruff man with an equally surly wife. Not sexual discipline, of course, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the fantasy.
The first thing I did was go up to our room to change, and to wash properly. It was on the second floor, and decorated a rather twee pink, which amused me when I thought of the sort of things we were likely to be getting up to. Discarding the cheap dress and yellow cotton panties, I put on a panty and bra set, with suspenders to match, and black seamed stockings of the sort Percy likes me to wear. I was sure Monty would love them when he got to undress me, or more likely make me strip for him, and I topped it all off with a black Verniece dress. In the mirror I looked both refined and slightly haughty, if not entirely demure, and I knew that the drop to naked, grovelling slut was going to be superb.
The other reason Percy favoured the hotel was for the wine list, which was exceptional, particularly for claret. Unfortunately Monty thought the prices were outrageous and wanted to drink beer. We would have argued, but he threatened to spank me on the spot if I didn’t stop whining, which shut me up. Not that I drank the beer, but I had to content myself with a bottle of some Fronsac I’d never heard of with my pigeon, followed by a half of Rieussec with Stilton.
What that did mean was that I was pretty tipsy by the time we finished. So was Monty, who’d put back several pints of strong beer. We were outside, at a table a fair way apart from the others and sheltered by a couple of straggling bushes, which we’d chosen for the sake of privacy. It was getting rapidly cooler and I was wondering about going in. I’d put my coat on, but he didn’t seem to mind, sipping his beer contentedly as he watched the last of the other people go in.
‘Right,’ he said, rising, ‘this’ll do.’
‘What?’ I demanded, an instant before his hand closed in my hair and I realised that he was going to try and put me across his knee. ‘No! Not here! Monty! For God’s sake, we’ll be seen!’
I tried to fight, but he was pulling really hard on my hair. I went down, sprawling across his lap, still squealing and struggling but too shocked to think of saying my stop word until he had twisted my arm hard into the small of my back, rendering me absolutely helpless.
‘No, Monty,’ I said. ‘Not here . . . Amber, Red.’
‘You don’t get out of it that easily, brat. Nobody’s looking, so you get your spanking.’
‘No, Monty, come, on, I’m serious!’
I was trying to sound cross, but I could hear the note of pleading in my own voice, then I felt his hand at the hem of my dress and I realised that it was going to be worse than I thought.
‘Monty, no!’ I squeaked as I felt the cool air on my thighs. ‘No, you can’t! Not that, not on the bare! We’ll be seen! Red! Red!’
He took no notice at all, tugging my dress up, hard, so that I was forced to lift my hips to let it come or risk him tearing it.
‘You’ve got to obey my stop word, Monty,’ I babbled as I felt the seat of my panties come on show. ‘You have to, Monty! You have to!’
‘Stop being such a baby,’ he chided. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. I like your knickers, very swish.’
‘Haven’t done anything!? You’ve got my panties on show, in public! You’re going to spank me!’
‘I know,’ he said and his hand came down on my bum.
It wasn’t hard, but it was hard enough to make me squeal. He laughed, and laid his hand on my bottom, wobbling my cheeks.
‘You’re quite chubby, really, here,’ he said. ‘These knickers make it look fatter. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, so I think they’d better come down.’
‘No!’ I squeaked, but it was hopeless. He ignored me, taking the waistband of my panties very gently between finger and thumb and peeling them down, slowly, off my bottom, to leave it bare.
‘You bastard!’ I sobbed as he settled them around my thighs. ‘Oh God!’
I was bare bottomed, my panties rolled down, in the garden of a hotel, where anyone might come out, at any moment, and see me getting my bare bottom spanked. My breathing was coming hard, the tears were starting in my eyes and I was cursing Monty, over and over.
‘Here goes,’ he said cheerfully and brought his hand down across my bum with the full weight of his arm behind it.
I screamed at the blow, really loudly, only for another to land, harder still, and then I was kicking and writhing under a rain of smacks. My free arm was flailing wildly, fist clenched, hitting Monty, the ground, the bench, anything I could find. I was shaking my head too, in pain and humiliation and fear of being seen, my hair flying out to all sides, in utter disarray. My legs were going too, and my hips, bucking up and down, showing off my pussy and bumhole, with my panties stretched taught between my knees. It hurt so much, and I was terrified of being caught, trying to look round at the hotel and stifle my screams as my poor bum was spanked and spanked and spanked.
Monty laughed as he did it, taking great pleasure in my reaction, spanking away with
the sound of the slaps ringing out across the quiet of the evening, mixed with my screaming, gasps and tearful sobbing. I thought he’d never stop, that he was determined to get us caught, to make sure that the miserable old couple who ran the place got a good eyeful of my bare red bottom. It didn’t happen though, by some miracle, and finally he stopped, letting go of my wrist and letting me roll off his knee on to the ground.
I sat there for a moment, with my bare bottom on the cool, damp grass, just panting and snivelling, until I managed to pull myself together enough to get my skirt down and my panties up underneath it, concealing the evidence of my punishment. That was the moment the landlord chose to come out, doubtless in response to my screams, as he had a pretty peculiar look on his face, but not the fury I’d have expected if he’d really caught us.
He took our plates, asking tersely if everything had been to our satisfaction. It must have been obvious that something was wrong with me, because my face was streaked with tears, my make-up ruined and my dress ruffled, but he said nothing and went back inside.
‘You utter bastard!’ I spat at Monty. ‘Never, ever do that again!’
‘It’s what you like, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s best just to do it, like you said.’
‘Yes, but not in public!’
‘What’s public? Nobody saw, not like when you were in your pissy dress, and don’t tell me you’re not turned on.’
‘Of course I’m bloody turned on! Can you even start to imagine how I feel? Spanked in public, on the bare! Jesus, Monty!’
‘Well then, you should thank me.’
‘No, I should not thank you! It was too risky, and you ignored my stop word! What if he’d come out a moment earlier?’
‘He’d have seen a brat getting a well-deserved spanking.’
‘Yes, and called the police, or at the very least thrown us out.’
‘Well he didn’t, so stop whining and say thank you.’
‘No, you’ll bloody well apologise!’
‘No. You will thank me, or I’ll do it again. I don’t care if we get thrown out.’
‘And if he calls the police?’
‘I’ll take the risk. Now thank me, or you go back over my knee, and this time your dress comes right up, over your knockers.’
‘You’re not going to do it,’ I said, backing away.
‘Whatever,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the room key, remember.’
He was right. I was stuck. I stood there, glaring at him, until I finally managed to swallow my pride and anger, letting the humiliation of what had to all intents and purposes been a public spanking take over.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said faintly. ‘Thank you.’
‘Louder,’ he answered, ‘and do it properly.’
‘Thank you,’ I repeated. ‘Thank you for punishing me.’
‘More.’
‘Thank you for spanking me, Monty,’ I said. ‘And thank you for doing me on the bare. I’d been a brat and I deserved it. Good enough?’
‘Once more.’
‘Thank you for giving me a bare-bottom spanking, Monty. I was a brat and I deserved it. I’m sorry I made a fuss over it too. You must punish me whenever it’s necessary.’
I was really trembling, and biting my lip, with my hands folded in my lap. It was too much for me and, despite my anger, I was genuinely thankful, because I knew I’d be masturbating over the experience for years.
‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘That’ll do. Now up to the bedroom and we’ll see how sorry you really are.’
‘Yes, Monty.’
He took my hand and led me back across the garden, as I wondered what he had in store for me. It was getting rapidly dark, and if he’d wanted to wait a little and then make me go down on him in the garden I’d have done it, maybe even let him fuck me behind the bushes. He seemed to have other ideas, taking me up to the room, only pausing at the bar to order another couple of pints of beer. As soon as we were in he locked the door behind us.
‘Strip,’ he ordered, ‘down to your panties.’
‘Yes, Monty.’
He climbed on to the bed, watching me as I undressed. I tried to be shy about it, showing off, but not boldly, shoes, stockings, dress, suspender belt and finally my bra, leaving me in nothing but my black silk panties, standing with my head hung meekly, waiting for instructions. He’d taken his cock and balls out and was stroking them, idly, the way a man does when he knows he’s in charge and doesn’t need to worry about his performance.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘we’re going to play a little game, a game called ‘‘It’’. For you it’s a very easy game. Just do everything I say, exactly. Fail and you get a black mark. OK?’
‘Yes, Monty. What do the black marks earn me, spanks?’
‘Something harder, I don’t want you disobeying. You can use your stupid stop word too, but you get a black mark if you do.’
‘Cane strokes? Be fair, Monty, you’ve got to tell me. Remember I’m bruised too.’
‘No, but I will. I’m going to whip your tits, tomorrow, outdoors. Now, first, it goes into the bathroom.’
I obeyed. ‘It’ was obviously me, and added humiliation typical of the mixture of mind games and physical sadism Monty seemed to like. He followed me, stopping at the door with his pint in his hand.
‘It climbs into the shower cubicle, and puts the plug in,’ he said, and again I obeyed.
‘It puts its hands on its head,’ he ordered as I stood once more. ‘It sticks its tits out.’
I did it, watching him as he stroked his cock.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now it pisses in its knickers.’
‘Not these, Monty, they’re silk!’
‘One black mark. It pisses in its knickers.’
‘Oh God, all right.’
I shut my eyes, letting my bladder relax, which wasn’t hard with a bottle and a half inside me. The piddle started, slowly at first, as I struggled to break my ingrained need not to do it in my knickers, then faster, soaking into my gusset, trickling down my legs, spattering on the porcelain floor of the shower cubicle. I let it all out, the full contents of my bladder, until I was standing in a puddle of warm pee, with my panty crotch soaked, back and front.
‘It sits down in its own piss,’ Monty ordered, ‘and wriggles its arse around.’
I did it, squatting into the puddle so that my bum went right in it, Monty watching as it soaked into my panties. His cock was getting hard, and he was getting to me, badly, and my lower lip was trembling uncontrollably as I wiggled my bottom in the warm puddle. A little more came out, squirting through my panty crotch.
‘It takes off its panties,’ he said, ‘showing its cunt.’
My thumbs went into the waistband of my panties, pushing them down off my hips as I lifted myself, only for my foot to slip in the pee. I sat down squashily in the puddle, my panties half down. Monty laughed. Again I tried, this time kneeling up, with my knees well spread so that he got a good view of my pussy as I took my panties down and pulled them off one ankle, then the other.
‘It mops up with its knickers, crawling.’
It was pointless. They were already soaked, but I tried, rubbing them in the piddle with my bum stuck up and turned towards him so that he could see between my spread cheeks.
‘It’s not doing it properly,’ he said. ‘Black mark. It sucks its knickers to get rid of the piss.’
I heard my own sob and once more felt my tears start as I picked up the tiny rag of soiled silk. They were dripping pee, and I hesitated a moment, with them held up in front of my face, my mouth open, horrified by what I was about to do. I had to though, and I did it quickly, stuffing them into my mouth, sucking on them and swallowing the piddle.
Monty’s cock was rock hard, and his wanking had begun to get urgent. He was still drinking his beer, which made what I was drinking that much ruder – my own pee, sucked out of my panties. I tried to clean up as best I could, but it wasn’t easy. My mouth was thick with the taste of pee and my tears were heavy in my eyes as
I mopped the filthy floor, repeatedly sucking at the panties and swallowing every drop until at last there was no more than a wet sheen on the porcelain.
‘It licks up its piss, all of it,’ Monty commanded.
My head went down again, all the way. Poking my tongue out, I began to lap at the floor, sucking up the little pools that had formed where my legs had been. I was making as much saliva as I was swallowing pee, but he didn’t seem to care, waiting patiently until I had licked every square inch of the shower floor.
I was breathing heavily, and as I sat up again the first of my tears fell, trickling down my cheek. Monty put down his glass and stepped forwards, reaching down to take me by the hair. I opened my mouth expectantly, but he pulled my face into his crotch, rubbing his cock and balls into it first, and only then stuffing my mouth. For a while he fucked my head, in silence, before pulling out and returning to his pint.
To my surprise he closed his eyes, sipping at his beer. His erection began to go down, slowly, the thick, wet shaft gradually contracting, wrinkling, the head retreating into the foreskin. I waited, pretty sure what he was doing, until at last he had finished his pint. Opening his eyes, he put the empty glass down in the sink. He was grinning at me as he stepped forward, his fat face split into a really evil smirk.
‘It lies down,’ he said. ‘It spreads its cunt.’
I swallowed, hard, rocking back on my heels to spread my thighs to him, with my back to the cubicle wall. My pussy was open, gaping, and very wet, slick with pee and juicy too.
‘Black mark,’ he said. ‘It spreads its cunt, with its fingers.’
My hand went straight to my sex, spreading my lips, wide, to show him the mouth of my vagina. He stepped closer, taking his cock in his hand. Again I swallowed, unable to take my eyes away as he pointed it at my tummy.
‘It puts two fingers up its cunt hole,’ he said.
I obeyed, sobbing as I slid two fingers up my pussy, holding my hole wide, knowing he could see inside, to the moist, pink tube of my vagina. He pointed his cock towards my sex, leering as he pinched it, holding back then letting go to release a great gush of pee. I cried out as it hit me, hot and wet, full on my tummy, then lower as he adjusted his stream, on to my sex, over my clitty, to the mouth of my vagina, and into it. My hole filled in an instant, urine bubbling out around the stream, splashing my thighs and trickling down between my bumcheeks. I was gasping, overwhelmed by what he was doing, still with my pussy spread wide so that he could piss up me.
