by Peter Birch
“Yes. The law goes right back to 1751, apparently, and can be used to prosecute anybody running any sort of event that threatens public morals. Apparently that’s us.”
“Just us? After all, they run swinging events there too, and a gay cross-dress club.”
“I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted to shut the venue down and we were unlucky?”
“Maybe, or they thought we were the easiest target.”
“Very likely. They expected everybody to slink off out of embarrassment, that’s for sure.”
“Master Jacobaeus must have come as a bit of a shock then, and a few others, yourself included.”
“I decided it was better not to make a fuss. They were out for blood, especially after somebody slammed a door in a constable’s face, somebody who was trying to get away over the rooftops.”
“I can’t imagine who that might have been,” Peter responded, trying not to grin. “Michelle and I just slipped quietly away while nobody was looking.”
“I thought Michelle was with you. Did you …?”
“Did I sleep with her? Yes.”
“I thought you would, in the end. She’s your type, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and not just because she likes to be spanked. I really like her. She reminds me of my first serious girlfriend, only a lot less mixed up. Anyway, what to do about the club? I’m not sure whether to go ahead next month.”
“I think we ought to, but in a different borough, obviously.”
“That might not be enough, if the police have really got it in for us. They can pick up a flyer as easily as anyone else.”
“At least the spanking parties should be safe.”
“I hope so, but we’ll have to tighten up the vetting procedure.”
“Make them take six-of-the-best before they can come,” Karen grinned. “I’ll do it.”
“I bet you would, but you know what the old-school male spankers are like. Most of them think only girls should get it, so we’d lose three-quarters of them.”
“I wasn’t suggesting caning the regulars, although I would love to do some of those old bastards in front of the girls they’ve just spanked. Imagine Mr. Appleby, in his headmaster’s outfit, with all the girls giggling at him as …”
“I’d rather not, thank you,” Peter interrupted, trying to rid his mind of the picture she’d conjured up of the elderly, corpulent Appleby being prepared for the cane. “Ah, here’s Violet.”
The dungeon door had opened and Violet stepped out, slimmer even than Karen and much taller, currently in a shiny ensemble of black rubber; stockings, mini-dress, long gloves and a hood that left only the pale oval of her face showing, while her long black hair had been pulled up through a hole on the top to make a high, lustrous pony-tail. Behind her was another girl, flushed and disheveled in a half open plaid shirt and a white mini-skirt, her face lit up with a bright, shy smile. She was young, certainly no more than college age, and blessed with a fine, feminine figure than had Peter nodding in immediate appreciation.
“Put the kettle on, sweetie. I’m parched,” Violet addressed Karen. “Hi Peter. This is my new pet, Sophie. Sophie, this is Master Peter.”
“Delighted,” Peter answered. “But you needn’t worry about the Master business. I prefer sir, if anything.”
“Peter runs the spanking parties I was telling you about,” Violet continued. “Show him your bottom.”
Sophie blushed and pouted, but quickly turned to lift the back of her skirt, showing off the seat of a pair of brief, lacy white knickers with a good deal of cheeky flesh sticking out to either side. She was very red, and showed several bruises from her beating, although her now deeply embarrassed smile suggested that she’d thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
“With your panties down,” Violet instructed, now with a firm edge to her voice.
The hot blush coloring Sophie’s face grew hotter still, but she did as she was told, pushing the back of her knickers down to show off her bare bottom and more bruising, along with two neatly laid tramlines where she’d been given the cane.
“Very pretty,” Peter remarked, “and you can obviously take it well.”
“She’d be perfect,” Violet assured him. “Come on, Sophie, stick it right out. Boys like to see a little bit of everything.”
Sophie made a face but once more did as she was told, turning a little and pushing her buttocks right out, her panties now held down around the middle of her thighs. The peachy split of her cunt was beautifully framed by her thighs and succulent cheeks, while the little star between the mounds was made abashedly vulnerable.
“Very nice,” Peter said, “and ever so obedient. Yes, you’d be very welcome at the next party, Sophie. I take it Violet has explained what happens?”
“Men get to spank me,” Sophie answered, pulling her knickers up at a nod from Violet. “They pay and I get a share of the gate.”
“Exactly,” Peter answered. “You’ll generally take home around two-hundred, but you can make more if you want to do one-to-ones, or photosets, even video …”
“No, nothing like that,” Sophie said quickly. “Just the spankings.”
“Sophie’s at college,” Violet explained, “and aims to be a respectable lawyer one day, so no photos, just plenty of spanking.”
“Cameras aren’t allowed at the parties,” Peter assured Sophie. “But I can guarantee you all the spanking you can handle. You do realize though that you don’t get to choose who deals with you? I do vet the guests and we keep things under control, but they expect their money’s worth.”
“What sort of men do you get?” Sophie asked. She was hesitant but excited, which Peter liked to see. This dichotomy was something that Peter had long come to associate with girls who clearly enjoyed punishment and humiliation, but were still conflicted as to why.
“Businessmen, professionals, all sorts,” he explained. “Nearly always middle-aged but with a few older, retired gentlemen. We get a surprisingly high proportion of teachers.”
Sophie responded with a nervous nod and it was Violet who carried on.
“She’ll be fine. She’s just a bit nervous, but she likes a daddy figure to do the spanking and she’s okay for girlie shows.”
“That’s always good,” Peter said. “Are you going to come to the next one, Violet? And if so …”
He trailed off, leaving her to state the obvious, that if she attended she would expect to be on the receiving end.
“Yes, I know,” she sighed. “I take it too, at the end, once the old bastards have had their fun with the others.”
“Good girl,” Peter answered. “Karen?”
“Piss off,” Karen replied, joking but firm. “I do the door, as usual.”
“Colonel Yates offered her three-hundred for a one-to-one,” Violet remarked. “I really thought she was going to go for it, and if he wasn’t such an old perv, I reckon she …”
“Shut up, Violet, or you’re going to get it right now!” Karen interrupted.
“You and whose army?” Violet asked.
Peter was grinning, but took the mug of tea Karen had made and moved out of range. He was used to the girls’ playful attempts to dominate each other and had always hoped the situation would escalate beyond threats to some real chastisement. It never did, but Sophie was looking interested if also a little alarmed.
“Ignore them,” Peter advised. “Karen hasn’t got the guts to go for it in case she loses, and Violet’s not really mean enough.”
“I’ve got the guts to take care of her, believe me,” Karen laughed. “In fact I think I should, at the end of the next party. A good spanking first, then maybe queen her in front of all those men.”
Violet shrugged. “Fine, as long as I can do the same to you.”
“I,” Karen stated, “am dominant. Pure. Dominant.”
“You,” Violet
replied, “are lucky I believe in consent, or you’d be getting your ass tanned right now, knickers down, in front of Peter and Sophie.”
Karen had begun to flush and quickly turned away, making a deliberate performance of checking the temperature of her tea. Violet allowed a smile to play over her lips for an instant, then changed the subject.
“So who have we got, Peter?”
“Michelle, of course,” Peter answered. “You two, with Karen on the door, Tia and probably Davina.”
“Five girls then, at least for spanking, and how many men?”
“I don’t know. There was a lot of interest, but some of those who were at the club might well back out because of the raid. We’ll see.”
“You should include some wrestling,” Sophie suggested. “That would be popular.”
“Gentleman spankers are usually very specific about what they like,” Peter told her. “But it might work at the club, if I ever manage to get it running again. Are you volunteering?”
“Maybe,” Sophie answered. “As long as I can choose who I get to wrestle against. What did you say you were going to do to Violet, Karen? Spank her and queen her? What’s queening?”
“When you sit on somebody’s face,” Karen answered. “Usually for a lick, but sometimes to humiliate them too.”
“And you do that?” Sophie asked, her voice soft and rich with curious excitement.
“Not with men,” Karen answered. “It’s too intimate. With girls, maybe, in the right situation. I like to get my bum in a pretty face.”
“Michelle’s usually,” Violet put in. “It’s fun, Sophie, you should try it.”
Sophie didn’t answer, but her face was even redder than when she’d been made to show off her ass, and she didn’t seem to know where to look.
“Don’t mind me,” Peter put in. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t like to watch, but I’ll leave if you prefer.”
“Sophie?” Violet asked gently.
Sophie responded with the faintest of nods and Peter felt his cock pulse as she did so. He was so used to the club and parties that even the dirtiest cabarets and the most revealing of spankings provided no more than a gradual arousal. But there was something special about Sophie’s manner, innocent yet undeniably dirty at the same time—special and familiar.
“Are you a convent girl, Sophie?” he asked.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Just a guess. So, um … are you two going to wrestle, or just get straight to the queening?”
“I’d like to wrestle,” Sophie offered.
“What if you win?” Karen asked. “Violet’s supposed to be your mentor, and you’re going to have trouble looking up to her once you’ve sat on her face.”
“She’s not going to win,” Violet answered, “and besides, I didn’t need to stand on my dignity in order to be dominant.”
“Suit yourself,” Karen answered, “and here’s hoping you lose.”
Sophie merely shrugged.
“Shall we adjourn to the living room?” Peter suggested, keen to make sure that this unexpected spectacle of female wrestling didn’t stall. “I’ll move the furniture.”
He quickly cleared a space in the center of the tiny living room, barely large enough for the two girls to wrestle in, let alone with spectators, but none of them seemed to mind. Karen perched herself on the sofa, her expression amused and disdainful as Violet and Sophie came to stand face to face in the clear area, while Peter stayed back in the doorway and appointed himself referee.
“No biting, no scratching, nothing vicious,” he advised. “Or you go over my knee. Hair pulling is allowed and you fight to a submission. Best out of three and the winner gets to queen the loser.”
“For each submission,” Karen added. “That way we’re more likely to see Miss Violet there get a faceful of bottom.”
“At least I’ve got the guts to take the risk,” Violet said as she and Sophie began to circle warily in the center of the carpet.
“You love it, you dirty bitch,” Karen answered.
Violet ignored the comment, her eyes fixed on Sophie’s as she moved slowly sideways, then darted forward to grapple. Sophie went down with a squeak of surprise and was turned on her back in an instant, her arms pinned to her sides and Violet straddling her neck. She seemed shocked and only kicked a little before going limp, which struck Peter as a rather pathetic effort even for a girl who quite liked the idea of having her face sat on. Still, Violet had clearly won the first round.
“Do you submit?” he asked Sophie, who responded with a rueful nod.
“Then stay down,” Violet said and relaxed her grip.
Sophie did as she was told, lying passive on the floor, her eyes wide and her mouth a little open. Her lower lip was trembling and she looked frightened as Violet swung her body around, to kneel astride the defeated girl’s head. As she knelt, Violet lifted her bottom high, to make sure Sophie got a good view of what was about to settle onto her face. Slowly, she lifted her short rubber skirt to show off her knickers, also in black rubber and so tight across her firm little bottom that it looked as if she’d sat in a puddle of tar. Sophie swallowed and turned her head aside. But instinctively she seemed to know that was not the done thing and, almost in spite of herself, she turned back quickly as Violet began to sink down slowly, stopping with the taut rubber seat of her fetish panties just an inch or so above Violet’s face.
“Kiss it,” Violet demanded. “Kiss my ass.”
Again Sophie swallowed, hesitant, her expression working between defiance and submission. Then she’d done it, puckering her lips to plant a single, firm kiss on the seat of Violet’s black rubber knickers.
“Good girl,” Violet said, and sat down.
Peter gave his cock a sneaky squeeze as Violet settled her rump onto Sophie’s face. He was hard, and getting harder as he watched the beaten girl humiliated. Sophie began to squirm as Violet’s rubber clad bottom smothered her face, Sophie’s fingers clutching at the carpet, but still she made no real effort to escape, suffering her undignified fate in meek surrender until Peter finally spoke up.
“And that, Sophie, is a queening. Come on, round two.”
Violet dismounted and the girls had quickly faced off against each other once more. This time Sophie put more effort into fighting, grappling Violet and struggling valiantly to stop herself from getting pinned down. Although it was quite obvious that she lacked her opponent’s strength or skill. Despite her best efforts Sophie was soon on her back again, her face straining as she tried in vain to prevent herself from being pinned to the carpet.
“I submit,” she sighed. “You’re too strong for me.”
“Yes,” Violet said happily. “I am, and now for some real fun.”
She swung around as before, tugging up her tight skirt and presenting her rubber clad bottom, allowing Sophie to admire the view for a long moment before Violet began to settle down, pushing the taut black rubber moons closer and closer until it was she more than an inch from Sophie’s face. But Violet had something more in store.
“This time, Sophie, I will queen you with my naked flesh,” Violet warned, her voice cruel and wanton as she begun to wriggle the tight rubber panties down over her bottom.
Sophie responded with a sob, watching in fascinated consternation as her tormentor’s bottom came bare, her eyes fixed on the rounded little cheeks, on the deeply cleft slit between, and on the winking eyelet of Violet’s anus. But even through worried lips, the tip of Sophie’s tongue had emerged, as if she’d already resigned herself to the fact that she would be made to lick in the most intimate place, and in the most intimate way.
“Kiss my asshole,” Violet demanded.
“Dirty bitch,” Karen put in, but there was as much passion in her voice as in Violet’s.
“I … I …,” Sophie began, stuttering. “Not your asshole, Violet … no
… oh God, I’m going to do it …”
Her head had come up as her words broke off. Her lips puckered and she’d done it, kissing Violet’s anus. As her lips pressed to the tiny, secretive aperture something inside Sophie seemed to snap. Her tongue came out and she’d begun to lick, pushing deep into the hot little circlet. Her willful tongue, busy and keen, was a cruel irony in contrast to her screwed up face which seemed to portray very real misery and humiliation. Violet couldn’t see, but she could feel, crying out in bliss and wriggling her bottom down onto Sophie’s face, eager for more as she began to speak.
“Oooh, you lovely little bitch! Go on, right in …” she gasped. “Lick me, Sophie … give me a good, long lick. That’s a good girl …”
Sophie didn’t need telling, her hands now gripping Violet’s thighs, her face smothered between the round little bottom cheeks and her tongue obedient and deep. Violet responded enthusiastically, pressing all of her slick and intimate pleasure points into Sophie’s face. Peter moved a little to get a better view, squeezing his cock once more and wondering if he dared take it out. The two girls didn’t seem to care, lost in ecstasy and—in Sophie’s case—in shame as well. Karen seemed entranced, but suddenly her eyes locked on him.
“Go on, Peter, take it out,” she ordered. “Come and sit next to me.”
Peter responded, not sure what she intended to do, but desperate for any feminine attention that might arise from this moment. Violet and Sophie took no notice at all as he pulled his erection free of his fly, but his eyes stayed firmly fixed upon them as he sat down beside Karen. She took hold of his cock, masturbating him in a detached, almost contemptuous manner as they watched the show. Sophie’s tongue was working in the velvet softness of Violet’s anus, licking, then pushing into the hole; kissing, then pushing up once more, seemingly as much for her own deliberate degradation as to give pleasure to another. Violet was no less abandoned, sitting up straight on Sophie’s face, queening her in style, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her eyes closed and her mouth wide. For a long moment she gave in to her regal bliss, before suddenly bending forward.
Sophie’s panties were pulled off in an instant, baring her pussy to Violet’s tongue as Violet deigned to return the pleasure she’d received by settling into a beautiful sixty-nine. Each woman licked at the other, seemingly oblivious to anything else. Karen gave Peter a wicked grin and nodded to where Violet’s prettily spread legs showed off her open, juicy cunt and slickened, half open anus—each as ripe and as ready for penetration as the other.
