by Peter Birch
“So what got you started?” Ben asked.
“I think it was always there, deep down,” Peter told him. “Do you remember when Rackman managed to sneak that porn mag in? Even then I thought it was a bit tame, and I’d seen a lot stronger. But there was one picture, one perfect picture, not even a photo, just a cartoon, of a pretty secretary laid across her boss’ lap, just at the point of having her knickers pulled down for a spanking, with her face full of consternation for what was happening to her. It felt as if I’d been wired into the mains.”
Ben gave a nervous laugh and swallowed the rest of his vodka. Peter followed suit, his mind now drifting back to past glories; Charlotte and Alice tangled together as they licked between each other’s thighs, Vicky Trent with the beautiful Ayanna’s bottom splayed across her knees, the three spanked girls in the pavilion with three more waiting their turn, but most desirable and most melancholy of all, Tiffany.
♦♦♦♦
Peter relaxed back into his chair, feeling he had earned a rest after his initial efforts to get the spanking party going and a tour of the flat to make sure everybody was having fun and there were no unexpected difficulties. With the five girls and twenty-two men, every single room was in use. Karen was playing hostess, keeping drinks and nibbles replenished for those men not currently involved in any spanking. She was also looking after the money. In the dungeon, Violet was entertaining some of the more conventional spectators with a slow, sensuous striptease, although she was booked to give Sophie a one-on-one, girl-on-girl spanking at nine o’clock. Michelle was in one of the bedrooms, over one man’s knee with her school skirt turned up and her big white panties tied off around her ankles to keep her legs still while he spanked her. From the doorway, a gleeful queue watched and waited their turn. The other bedroom was occupied by Tia, also in school uniform and also bare bottomed, but bent over the bed while Mr. Appleby showed off his caning technique by using her ample, dark skinned buttocks to mark out the pattern of a five bar gate in welts of an even darker hue. Even the bathroom was occupied, with three men watching while a fourth put Davina through her paces in an especially rude position, squatting naked over the toilet with her bottom thrust out as she was beaten with the bath brush.
Peter had seen it all as he went round the flat, but as he sipped at his cold beer only one spanking remained visible to him. Colonel Yates, the oldest and most hidebound of all his guests, had Sophie over his knee, as she kicked and wriggled her way through just the sort of old-fashioned, bare bottom spanking the retired army officer felt all girls should receive on a regular basis. She’d had her underwear down from the start, affording Peter an excellent view of her plump, furry cunt and the bouncing cheeks of her bottom. She looked utterly desirable, and Peter could feel his desire beginning to rise right up into his cock. So enraptured was he in Sophie’s tortured euphoria that he cursed quietly when the doorbell rang and drew his attention away. Peter set down his beer and made for the door.
“Who do think that is?” Karen asked, plainly worried. “I thought everybody was in?”
“There might be one more,” Peter told her. “An old friend of mine, although I didn’t actually expect him to turn up. That or the police.”
They exchanged anxious smiles as Peter went for the door, half expecting the officious tones of a police officer as he pressed the intercom button. Instead, he was immensely relieved to hear Ben Thompson’s voice. A moment more and they were shaking hands, with Peter grinning broadly and Ben trying to look past him and into the kitchen, where Sophie now had one leg clamped beneath the Colonel’s knee to control her spasms and keep her thighs spread apart. And the spanking continued, her beautiful cunt on full show.
“Come in, come in,” Peter urged, trying to close the door. “I’m so glad you made it. This is Miss Lash, or Karen if you prefer, who looks after the business end of things, and the occasional naughty boy, if you get my meaning. Mr. Jones, Mr. Keats, Colonel Yates, and Sophie, to whom I’ll introduce you properly once she’s had her bottom dealt with. Beer, or Scotch?”
“A Scotch, please,” Ben answered weakly, his eyes fixed to Sophie’s naked, bouncing bottom as the Colonel continued with the spanking even as he gave Ben a curt greeting.
Sophie herself was plainly beyond caring, dangling over the Colonel’s knee, her face much the same color as her bottom, dizzy with spanking and dizzy with arousal. As the new girl, she’d been the one to go over Peter’s knee as an introduction to the parties and her fresh beauty and shy but enthusiastic manner had made her an instant success. The Colonel was the fifth man to spank her and Peter had been obliged to order that no implements were to be used on her bottom until everybody had enjoyed a session with her by hand.
“Is it always like this?” Ben asked as he accepted a glass of whiskey from Karen.
“More or less,” Peter told him. “We’re quite busy tonight, which is a pleasant surprise after the raid.”
Ben gave a slow nod, his eyes still glued to Sophie’s rear.
“I’ll show you around,” Peter offered, “and then perhaps you’d like to take a turn with Sophie?”
“Um … I’d be delighted,” Ben answered. “If that’s alright? How does it work? I mean, uh … what are we allowed to do?”
“The girls are here to be spanked,” Peter explained as he eased the dungeon door open to reveal Violet dancing in nothing but stockings and high heels. “Although they have the right to refuse if they really don’t want to, generally when they need a break. Anything harder, the cane or paddle and so forth, that has to be negotiated separately and generally only happens later on, otherwise the girls are out of action too soon.”
“And other things?”
“We have a simple rule. You’re entitled to ask for whatever suits your fancy, but the girls are entitled to refuse and you’re expected to accept their decision with good grace. We’re not a swinging club though, so don’t expect a mass orgy. But the girls are generally happy to provide a little manual relief at the end of the evening for those who need it, and rather more for favorites. I’ll show you the dungeon properly when it’s less crowded, but come upstairs for now.”
“She’s very beautiful, the girl who was dancing naked,” Ben asked as they started up the stairs. “Who is she?”
“Violet,” Peter explained. “Or more usually, Miss Violet. She’s Karen’s flatmate.” The two men reached the landing and rounded the corner into a bedroom. “Ben, this is my friend Candy Doll. Candy, meet Ben.”
Michelle managed a gurgling noise in response, then looked up from her recumbent position, brushing the hair away from her face to reveal a puff of white cotton protruding from between her lips where her panties had been stuffed into her mouth. Peter nodded affably to the man who was spanking Michelle and moved on, Ben lingering for a moment to get a better look before he spoke again.
“Do you remember how Vicky Trent made the girls put their own underwear in their mouths? I suppose it was really to humiliate them.”
“Of course,” Peter agreed. “Although she did genuinely want to shut them up too. Humiliation is an essential ingredient of spanking, for many girls anyway. There are a hundred and one little tricks, like this one, for instance, although I grant you it’s not to everybody’s taste.”
They had reached the bathroom door, and they watched as Davina was beaten, now with her head held over the lavatory bowl and her long dark hair twisted in one man’s fist as another applied the bath brush to her bruised bottom. She’d obviously had her head flushed down the toilet once already, with what little hair wasn’t caught in the man’s fist dripping wet and her pretty, delicate face glistening with water.
“He’s bog-washed her!” Ben exclaimed in shock. “He’s bog-washed her, but she looks like she’s enjoying it!”
“That’s the beautiful thing about her,” Peter explained as Davina’s head was dunked into the toilet bowl and flushed once more. “W
hen it comes to kink, Davina starts where we leave off.”
Davina came up spluttering and dripping clear water, her eyes closed but her mouth wide in ecstasy even as the beating continued.
“It’s a nuisance though,” Peter remarked as he turned away. “After that she’ll need a good, hard whipping and they’ll probably make her come, but she’ll be no good at all for the rest of the evening. I keep telling them to leave the heavy stuff for later.” Peter continued on to the other bedroom. “Now here we have Mr. Appleby, who is an expert with the cane, and Tia, who can take several dozen strokes without making a fuss.”
As before, Ben had lingered to gape at the scene in the bathroom, but quickly joined Peter. Tia was over the bed as before, her legs braced apart, her bottom lifted to the cane, skirt up and panties down, her flesh now decorated with a dozen rich purple welts, while her blouse had been pulled open and her bra lifted to let her heavy, dark breasts swing free. For all her exposure and the state of her bottom she was plainly enjoying herself, poised and proud, but also playful, turning to greet Peter and Ben with a broad grin.
“Keep your head down, Tia,” Mr. Appleby commanded. “Did I say you could move?”
“No, sir. Sorry, sir,” Tia responded, her tone pure insolence despite her contrite words.
“You will learn respect, girl,” Mr. Appleby responded and brought the cane down across her bottom one more time.
Tia winced as the long, thin rod cut across the soft, fleshy cheeks of her ample derrière. Her legs bent at the knee for an instant and the only sound she made was a low moan, more pleasure than pain.
“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” Mr. Appleby demanded.
“Yes,” Tia answered, just as the cane cut down again, catching her by surprise and striking not across her bottom but her thighs. “Ahh, you bastard! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Peter, tell him not to cane my thighs!”
“Do go a little easy,” Peter instructed. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet.”
“Sorry,” Appleby responded. “But somebody has to take the starch out of the little minx, and most are a damn sight too soft on her, aren’t they Tia?”
“No,” Tia answered. “They’re nice, unlike you, you mean pig! Six more, sir, and I’ll find myself a nice, kind gentleman who’ll rub in a bit of cream.”
She was looking directly at Ben as she spoke, her huge brown eyes peeping out from beneath half lowered lids. He immediately began to blush and she smiled and winked, only to gasp as the cane bit in across her ample globes one more time, a stroke so hard that she was left jumping up and down on her toes for a moment before she could recover herself.
“Maybe that will teach you to flirt with other people while I’m punishing you?” Mr. Appleby demanded. “Come on, stick it out, five more.”
Tia stuck her tongue out at him, a piece of insolence that made his already plum colored complexion grow darker still. She’d also stuck out her bottom though, and turned her body fractionally further toward Peter and Ben, allowing them an unobstructed view of her plump, dark pussy lips, split to reveal the wet, pink mouth of her vagina. Appleby’s cane cut down across her cheeks one more time, making her cheeks and breasts jiggle but drawing only a faint gasp from her lips.
Ben showed no inclination to move on, and they watched together as Tia was given her last four strokes. She was obviously aroused, the syrup running freely from her cunt, and keen to make an exhibition of herself. She repeatedly looked round as if for their approval, all the while making sure that her backside was well presented to the cane. By the end she was fully on show, her feet planted wide apart, her upper body pressed down on the bed to lift her backside and make a swooping swan’s neck of her back, her cunt as vulnerable as her anus, both openings squeezing slowly in response the pain of her caning.
“All yours,” Appleby told Peter, apparently content with his work. “Did you say Violet was going to spank that fresh little piece Sophie?”
“At nine,” Peter told him. “Why don’t you get to know Tia Better, Ben? I think she’d like that.”
Tia had stood, but the sudden motion combined with the high of her spanking made her dizzy. She paused, resting for a moment on a low dresser, and also taking the time to step out of the little white panties that had settled unceremoniously around her ankles. She reached back to delicate analyze her hurt flesh, but she made no effort to cover herself. Her bottom was criss-crossed with welts, but she gave no more than a slight pout as she craned around to inspect herself, and even that seemed more for Mr. Appleby’s benefit than any real distress. One of the men who’d watched her beaten suggested a spanking, but she shook her head and Ben whispered to Peter.
“Do you think she’d really like some cream rubbed into her bottom?”
“Just ask,” Peter replied, and continued, speaking openly to Tia as Ben went the color of a beetroot.
“My friend would like to make you better with a little cream on your bottom, if that’s alright?”
Tia gave Ben a single, warm glance, pursed her full lips to blow a kiss and then crawled forward onto the bed, tucking several pillows beneath her hips as she lay down. Her bare bottom was raised and exposed, her tiny school skirt still hitched up high.
“I think that’s a yes,” Peter told Ben. “There’s cream in that jar, next to the bowl of condoms.”
Ben swallowed and nodded, still hesitant, but Tia had turned to beckon him, the invitation in her eyes unmistakable.
“Don’t be shy,” she said. “I need my cream, and old Appleby won’t do it, nor these two perverts. They just want to spank me and hurt me, but you …”
As she trailed off she lifted her bottom, showing off the wet pink mouth of her pussy once more. Ben gave another hard swallow and moved towards the bedside table where the jar of cream stood ready.
“Let’s go downstairs and watch Sophie’s spanking,” Peter suggested to the others. “She’s very shy, and it’s her first time from another girl.”
It was a blatant lie, as he already knew that Sophie had been having her bottom smacked by her friends for some time. But the idea obviously appealed to the men, and Ben was clearly very shy about playing with Tia in front of an audience. With the others on their way downstairs, Peter threw Ben the key to the bedroom door and pulled it shut.
Sophie’s spanking had already begun, somewhat earlier than scheduled, and it was certainly popular, so much so that Peter found the only reasonable vantage point to be halfway up the stairs, where he could just about look into the living room over the heads of the audience. Violet had made the classic choice, seating herself on a plain, straight backed chair in the middle of the room with Sophie across her knee, skirt up and panties down, her bottom already flushed red as she was told what she was going to get. It was a fine sight, but nothing he hadn’t already seen, and when the tall, bulky Mr. Cooper moved slightly to completely obscure the view, Peter gave up on his attempts to watch. Climbing back up the stairs he found Michelle seated on the bed, ruefully contemplating the soggy panties she’d been gagged with during her spanking.
“I don’t mind them being so dirty with us,” she complained as she saw Peter. “But now I have to go home without any panties!”
“Which you’ll thoroughly enjoy,” he answered her, “and you know perfectly well you could borrow some from Karen or Violet.”
“They’d be a bit tight,” Michelle pointed out, “but then you like girls in tight panties, don’t you?”
“Especially you,” Peter told her as he sat down on the bed. “But as these are already off, and very soggy …”
“What are you going to do?” Michelle asked as he took the panties from her hand and turned her deftly across his knee.
Peter ignored her and began to stroke her bottom with the scrap of damp white cotton in his hand. She’d taken at least four spankings over the previous two hours. She was very red … and very aroused, her cunt
wet and open, and she’d allowed her thighs to drift wide without hesitation. After a while he began to spank her, just gently, and to tease, pinching her fleshy little cheeks and her nipples, tickling her clit and her asshole, easing his fingers inside her cunt and making her suck them, until she’d begun to moan and push her hips upward in desperation.
“Patience,” he chided. “I know you’re a slut and I know you need fucking, or perhaps a cock in your ass, but I’m not ready yet.”
“Let me suck you hard then,” she offered, and would have wriggled off his lap had he not quickly tightened his grip.
“In a moment,” he promised, “but you’re to do it kneeling, with your bottom stuck out so that everybody who comes past can see everything, and …”
As he trailed off he had pressed her panties to the mouth of her cunt, pushing them up into the open, slippery hole. She gasped in reaction as she realized what he was doing and called him a bastard, but he took no notice, cramming the panties deep in her pussy until only a scrap of material remained free, peeping from her plugged vagina so that nobody who saw could possibly fail to realize what had been done to her.
“Now you get down on your knees,” he told her, “and remember, keep that fat little ass of yours pushed right out.”
Michelle scrambled down to obey, casting Peter a single, curious look on the way, something close to worship and yet deeply cut with shame. Peter merely grinned, thoroughly familiar and bemused in equal measure with the emotional complexities of submissive girls. With Michelle on her knees, he unzipped himself and fed his cock into her mouth, allowing her to suck on him in the position he’d ordained, with her bare bottom pushed out towards the open door, red cheeks flaunted, anus stretched wide and vagina gaping wider still, with the scrap of white panty cotton jutting from her, obvious to anybody who passed that she’d had her sex stuffed with her own underwear.
