by Peter Birch
“I’ll take it from here, thanks, Karen,” he stated.
“Sure, have fun,” Karen answered. “You’d better pick up her keys and money.”
Peter picked up the small blue purse from behind the cross and Karen returned to the more casual work of whipping and tormenting those men who lacked regular playmates of their own.
“Are you going to spank me, Peter?” Michelle asked, her voice thick with arousal. “Why don’t you take me into a quiet corner and spank me?”
She said the final two words with immense relish, and his cock had already began to stiffen in response to her body and the state of abandoned submission into which she’d been whipped. Lifting her, he slung her over his shoulder, making her giggle as one warm, naked buttock nestled against his cheek. The audience parted as he stepped away from the cross, with many an amused or envious glance and one or two slaps across Michelle’s backside from those who knew her well enough to take the liberty.
Peter was grinning as he carried her to one of the club’s numerous alcoves, his glass of brandy in hand as he used her bottom to push his way through the crowd. Quite a few people had followed, eager to watch whatever he had in mind for her, which made it all the more enjoyable as he settled himself down and turned her across his knee. She gave no resistance at all, passively accepting her fate as her ass was adjusted into spanking position and his hand settled across her hot cheeks. His cock could not help but respond, now fully hard as he anticipated dealing with her soundly before putting her on her knees to suck and slurp as she knelt on the grubby floor with her back arched and her bottom thrust out for the sake of her own humiliation and the enjoyment of the crowd. He’d been threatening to do just that to her for some time … and that time had come. He decided to tease her, to build her up gradually, knowing that his teasing would both test her willingness and elevate her feelings of shame which, like Tiffany, Michelle also seemed to relish.
“This time, Candy Doll,” he chided as he began to spank her. “This time you’re going to have to say thank you for your spanking in the traditional fashion. Not with a quick peck on the cheek, not with a wiggle of your juicy little ass, but by getting down on your knees and sucking my penis. Is that understood?”
Her sigh of pleasure was all the answer he needed, and as he began spanking she pushed her bottom higher still, making a thoroughly rude display of herself, her wet and ready cunt and the soft pink dimple of her anus flaunted to the audience. Peter was soon ready for her to give thanks in the way he had prescribed. But he made a point of showing off, talking to the dozen or so eager watchers as he continued to spank.
“As you no doubt notice, she’s an eager little slut and thoroughly enjoys a good spanking, which makes this the ideal opportunity to demonstrate a few techniques to those among you who may be less familiar with the art of chastising errant females. For instance, using just the tips of my fingers, like so, produces a sharp stinging sensation and is ideal for the first few smacks, to warm her rump before the spanking really begins. Still, as Candy’s rump is already hot enough to fry an egg, firm slaps delivered with the open palm are more appropriate, especially when delivered to the juiciest part of her ass, where her cheeks tuck down to either side of her disgracefully wet cunt. Or, should you wish a particularly noisy spanking, perhaps to attract attention to her situation, you simply cup your hand, like so.”
He had demonstrated each technique as he talked, while Michelle had kept her bottom high and her thighs wide, deliberately showing herself off. Most of the audience were regulars and merely grinned, familiar with the game. But one, a tall man in black leather, spoke up.
“And how much do you have to pay her to behave like that?”
There was something peculiar about his tone of voice, but Peter was enjoying himself too much to worry and pushed his concern aside as he gave an answer designed far more to amplify Michelle’s predicament than to answer the question.
“Pay her? Not a penny, not today. But yes, you can pay to roast her fat little rump, if you’re so inclined. Because she’s a little whore as well as a slut, isn’t that right, Candy?”
“Yes,” Michelle sobbed, twisting around to make eye contact with the tall man. “You can spank me … sir … if you like?”
“Now there’s an offer that’s hard to refuse,” Peter went on. “And given that you’re a guest at my club I’m even prepared to postpone my blow-job for a while so that you can give this little slut a thrashing. Okay, Candy …”
“I’d rather not,” the man broke in.
“Suit yourself,” Peter answered and continued to spank Michelle, only a little less enthusiastically, until the man suddenly moved away through the crowd.
The others had no such qualms, pressing close, one man even extending a hand to stroke Michelle’s succulent curves and the hot, reddened skin. Peter raised a cautionary finger.
“I don’t think you know her, sir. In this case, it’s polite to ask first. Well, Candy Doll, may the gentleman touch you?”
Michelle responded with a soft moan that both Peter and the man chose to accept as acquiescence. Peter cocked up one knee to make her more fully available and the man began to stroke her flesh. When all at once he pulled back as a sudden commotion broke out in the main body of the club—voices raised in protest or command, angry shouts, then a single clear instruction.
“This is the police. Remain where you are.”
“Fuck that,” Peter muttered, drained his brandy and made for the fire escape, towing Michelle behind him.
He’d always been aware of the chance of being raided. He’d paid the owners of the club in cash, never used his real name and he’d also worked out an escape strategy. The fire-escape doors led up to the street and were sure to be guarded. But they also continued up into the building above, where several small firms kept their offices. He’d also made his staff aware of this plan. But Michelle was frightened and far from prepared for a nimble escape. Only a moment ago she’d been in a post-orgasmic haze, coasting in a sub-zone of humility, spanked by numerous hands, and preparing to please her dominant partner. That, and maybe a touch too much champagne throughout the evening, meant that Michelle was more of a dazed doe than a fleet fox. On top of that, she was naked and there was no time to retrieve her clothes. Instead, Peter gave her his jacket, taking a moment to enjoy the way her reddened cheeks peeped out from beneath the hem as he hurried her up the stairs in front of him.
They’d reached the second floor before he heard the fire door slam at the bottom of the stairwell. Cursing, he hurried Michelle on and up, reaching the door to the roof with the sound of heavy boots now pounding up the stairs behind him. He thrust Michelle through the door, expecting her to keep running. To his surprise, she simply sat down on the casing of a skylight. Peter could only sigh. Together, they would never have outrun the policeman who was quickly closing on them. But it was also clear that he had next to no chance of outrunning the cop even without her. Again he cursed, as he stepped behind the door and waited. The sound of boots drew closer and stopped. The policeman reached the doorframe and stared in surprise at the naked Michelle seated before him. Taking advantage of the officer’s lapse of concentration, Peter kicked out, slamming the door closed and sending the man behind it back down the stairs.
Guilt and worry hit him immediately. But the furious cursing and threats from behind the door told him that the policeman could not be too badly hurt. With his concern somewhat alleviated, Peter grabbed Michelle and hustled her away. The roof of their building was flat, as was the next, which ended with the corner of the street. Gabled roofs rose beyond, dipping gently towards the river. They made the most the most of the flat terrain, darting behind ventilation ducts and air conditioning units until they were quickly out of sight, the urgency of their flight and the cool night air having revived Michelle considerably.
Now helping each other, they crossed a series of roofs to where th
e fire escape from the local cinema led down to an alley, and from there they risked a dash to his car. The one-way system left him no choice but to drive past the front of the club, where police vehicles were parked and angled halfway across the street, with people milling around on the pavement and others being hustled into the back of vans.
“Bastards!” he spat. “Why can’t they leave us in peace? We weren’t hurting anybody.”
“They hate sex,” Michelle answered. “Especially kinky sex. A lot of people do.”
“Only a minority,” Peter insisted. “But then again it only takes one asshole in the wrong place. Did you focus on that guy in the leather, the one who asked how much you charge? He was one of them, I’m sure of it, gathering evidence.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Obviously we’ll have to find a new venue, and not too close. But maybe we ought to take a break for a while, just in case.”
“What about the spanking parties? Please don’t cancel, Peter. I’ve got my rent to pay, and bills, and …”
“Don’t worry, we’ll still have the parties.”
Michelle didn’t answer, but rested her head against the window, the yellow light from the street lamps flickering over her face as they drove. With her pensive expression and one small breast showing in the gap at the front of his jacket she looked pretty and vulnerable, making him feel both protective and angry. His initial guilt for kicking the door shut in the policeman’s face had faded. They’d simply been enjoying themselves, a group of consenting adults indulging their private fantasies, harming nobody. From what he’d seen outside the club some of them had even been taken into custody. That number almost certainly included Karen, who never backed down to anybody and was sure to have told the police exactly what she thought.
“Oh my God, my purse!” Michelle exclaimed suddenly.
“It’s in the pocket of the jacket you’re wearing,” Peter answered.
“Thank you,” Michelle breathed, then glanced towards him. “Will you stay with me? I’m really shaken up.”
“Of course,” Peter promised. “I hope Karen’s okay.”
“So do I. Turn left here.”
They’d pulled into the small, red brick complex where Michelle lived, and which Peter had visited only to drop her off after one of his monthly spanking parties. He’d had another girl with him at the time, making it impractical to explore their mutual feelings any further, but now there was no such obstacle. Michelle was shaking as he led her up to the tiny, one-bedroom flat. But she was obviously eager, kissing him as soon as they were through the door. Peter responded, easing her down onto the bed as she shrugged the jacket from her shoulders. He took one small breast in hand, stroking his thumb over her nipple, savoring the sensation as that nipple grew erect at his touch. Their kissing grew more passionate still, and her hand was already fumbling for his zip.
Michelle’s legs had soon parted and Peter ached to mount her and fuck her. But she’d no sooner gotten his stiffening cock free of his trousers before she went down to take it in her mouth. He let her do it, watching the expression of bliss on her face, as if the comfort of suckling a warm, welcoming penis allowed all the cares and stress of the last hour to melt away. She was good too, using her tongue to rub on the underside of his shaft in a way that never failed to bring him to a rapid and happy climax, but that wasn’t what he had in mind. Pulling her up from his cock, he made to mount her, only to have her wriggle around onto her knees, presenting him with the cleft peach of her bottom, the cheeks still red from her beatings, her cunt wet and inviting.
“Do me this way,” she sighed, “the way you like to. Spank me and fuck me and … and stick it in my bottom.”
That was a request Peter would happily oblige. Taking his cock in hand, he crawled into position behind her. She’d put her head down, making her ass the highest part of her body, with both openings on shameless offer and in desperate need.
Peter had enjoyed the effect his dirty talk seemed to have on her in the club, and he was more than happy to play that way again. “Cunt first, you little disgrace,” he grunted as he eased his cock into her wetness, his face split by a dirty, satisfied grin as he watched it enter. “Ohh, but that is good. You ought to see yourself, with your sweet pink ass up in the air and my cock in your pussy, you dirty little bitch.”
He began to fuck her, his cock squelching in the open, sopping hole of her pussy and his balls bouncing on her fingers where she’d begun to masturbate. He spanked her at the same time, slapping her cheeks to make them quiver and wobble.
“What a sight!” he laughed. “What a sight, you fat bottomed little slut! Just imagine, letting a man who’s spanked you fuck you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. But oh no, not you. You stick your butt in the air and beg to be fucked, fucked by a man who’s just spanked you, spanked you in front of a roomful of leering perverts! Michelle, you dirty bitch!”
She moaned, rubbing harder at her cunt as he fucked her, and babbling indistinct words that suddenly grew clear.
“… that’s right, tell me what I am! A slut, a whore, and please … please … stick it up my backside!”
“Okay,” he promised, easing his cock free. “Up your bottom it goes, if you’re really that dirty.”
Her vagina had stayed open, dribbling its slick down over her busy fingers as she masturbated. His cock came out engorged and slippery, and he lost no time in pressing the straining head to her anus, lubricating her with her own juice as the soft little hole spread to accommodate him. She felt tight and hot inside, although he surmised he was not the first man to have his cock in that place. She accommodated easily and he was soon in deep, holding her cheeks wide to show off the taut pink ring of her stretched bottom hole as it pulled back and forth over his cock.
“How many men have fucked you like this, you little slut?” he demanded. “Go on, tell me. How many cocks have you taken into this fat little peach, Michelle? How many men have you knelt for, with your backside stuck up in the air, begging for a cock deep in your hungry little hole? How many of them have spanked you, Michelle? How many have spanked your juicy little ass before they fucked it … ass fucked you and … cum deep inside you …”
He broke off, no longer able to speak as his orgasm rose up to explode in his head. His cock pulsed and pumped hot streams of cum into her bottom, just as she screamed out his name and he realized that they’d come together.
As he awoke, Peter’s senses came together only gradually, at first puzzled as to where he was, then delighted and finally triumphant as he took in the pale blonde hair of the girl asleep beside him on the pillow, followed quickly by concern and a sinking feeling as the full details of the night before came back. It was nearly noon and he hastily swung his legs out of the bed as the possible consequences of the police raid crowded in for his attention. All they would get was the name he used for his clubs and parties, Peter Smith, unless they somehow managed to get hold of the number plate of his car, which seemed unlikely.
Nevertheless, there were going to be a lot of ruffled feathers that needed to be smoothed, and at the very least he was sure to lose a fair proportion of his paying guests. A minority were involved with the sex trade or simply free agents, but far more held respectable jobs or visited the club without their partner’s knowledge. Then there were the ones he’d seen being put into the back of police vans, who were sure to blame him for their plight or at very least expect sympathy and support. Most important of all was Karen. Not only was she a friend, but she knew far more about him than anybody else who’d been there, even Michelle.
He was cursing softly as he left, saying goodbye to Michelle with a kiss on each cheek, including the two somewhat rosy ones sticking out where the cover had pulled free of her lower body. A swallow of coffee, a promise to be back as soon as he could, and he was gone, driving across South London to the Lambeth flat where Karen rented
a room from another professional girl, Violet Campbell. As he parked the car he found himself glancing from side to side, but there was no sign of anybody who could be considered even remotely suspicious.
Karen herself answered the door and relief washed over him as he was invited inside. The sound of leathery smacks indicated that Violet was using the dungeon and Karen put a finger to her lips for quiet as Peter stepped inside. He nodded his understanding, then raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sound of an unmistakably feminine squeal of pain from beyond the dungeon door. Karen responded with a grin, but only when they were in the kitchen with the door closed behind them did Peter give her a kiss and finally speak up.
“Is Violet’s client a woman?”
“She’s training a new girl, very posh, very pretty. We were going to recommend her for the next spanking party.”
“New butts are always welcome, and posh and pretty sounds like a winning combination. Anyway, I am very glad to see you. I thought you’d been arrested.”
“Not me, no. Only the bar staff and that prat Master Jacobaeus, who kept mouthing off. There were two men who’d been there all along and they tried to claim I was on the staff, but I just denied it and eventually they let me go.”
“Trust Jake the Peg not to know when to back down,” Peter assented. “One of the men was watching me spank Michelle, just before the raid. He turned down a chance to play with her, but I thought he was just shy. What else do you know?”
“Not a lot. They made everybody sit down in little groups, with one officer standing over us while they took stuff away, all the bar takings and all the equipment, I’m afraid.”
“Damn! That’ll cost the earth to replace.”
“You might be able to get it back, if the prosecution falls through.”
“So they’re going to prosecute?”
“Yes, for breach of licensing and running a disorderly house.”
“Running a disorderly house!”
