Strip Girl

by Aishling Morgan

  It stopped. Again Céleste spoke, although Sarah’s head was now too deep in the rubbish to hear clearly. The men’s grip tightened. Sarah gave a wail of despair as her hot bottom cheeks were hauled wide. Something cold and slippery touched her anus, a bit of the tart, and she began to fight in earnest as she realised she was being lubricated for a public buggering. They merely laughed at her, holding her still as something touched her tightly clenched bottom hole, and her anus had been forced.

  She cried out in despair as she was penetrated, only to realise that whatever had been stuck up her bum was far too thin for a man’s cock, while there was nobody mounted on her either. Whatever it was, the crowd found it immensely funny, laughing at her and passing humorous remarks. Again Céleste spoke and the men let go of Sarah’s wrists, only to catch her by the thighs and upend her into the litter bin.

  Her legs were waving wildly in the air for a moment before she could recover herself, flopping out over one side of the bin to stand dizzy and dishevelled on the pavement as she struggled to pull herself together. Her face was plastered with custard and bits of pastry, her chest was smeared with some sticky yellow substance that had soaked right through to her breasts, and a long thick paint brush had been inserted in her anus, the sort used to put a wash on a large canvas, and obviously what she’d been beaten with. She pulled the brush out and glanced around her. Céleste had disappeared, along with the three men, there was no sign of the crowd who’d been laughing at her just moments before, but Giles, Hugh and Sid were staring at her from just a few feet away.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Hugh demanded as Sarah hastily pulled her panties up.

  Sarah didn’t answer immediately, wondering how much they’d seen, as Giles came forward to put an arm around her. Finally she managed to speak.

  ‘Some bastard … some bastard tipped me into the litter bin!’

  ‘And pulled your knickers down?’ Sid asked in astonishment.

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah answered him. ‘Could we … could we go back to the hotel now?’

  ‘Don’t you want to call the police or something?’ Hugh asked.

  ‘No,’ Sarah said, ‘don’t, please. I just want to leave it.’

  ‘You can’t just leave shit like this,’ Hugh insisted. ‘There must be witnesses. Excuse me, do you speak English? Did you see what happened?’

  The man he had addressed merely shook his head and walked on.

  ‘Sarah’s right,’ Giles said. ‘The police would only make it worse for her.’

  Hugh hesitated and looked around. Only a few people were visible, and none of them were paying any attention.

  ‘Don’t, please,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Your call, doll,’ Hugh replied doubtfully.

  Giles hugged Sarah to him as they began to walk her away from the bin. Her mind was in a whirl, and for more than what Céleste had done to her. Not only had the crowd melted away with extraordinary speed, but in the brief period she’d been head-down in the litter bin the artist selling paintings had packed up his stall, at least two café owners had removed the chequered cloths from their outside tables and more than a dozen separate householders had taken their geraniums in from their windowsills.

  Sarah sat in her bed in the hotel, sipping coffee and nibbling at a piece of toast liberally spread with apricot preserve. As before, what Céleste had done to her hadn’t affected her nearly as badly as she would have expected, nor in the way that Giles and Sid evidently expected, to judge by their hushed serious tones as they talked together in the other room. Hugh was rather less sympathetic.

  ‘I’ve heard of this sort of shit, in Japan,’ Sid was saying. ‘It’s a bit like happy slapping, only instead of hitting somebody they creep up behind a girl, whip her skirt up and pull her knickers down, so the guy with the mobile gets a shot of her bare bum. Sharking, it’s called.’

  ‘I think that’s just one video,’ Giles put in, ‘and even that’s supposed to be a fake. I tell you, I’d kill the bastard if I’d seen him.’

  ‘Ah, come on, it’s no big deal,’ Hugh urged. ‘We used to do that, back in the ’sixties, just for a laugh. You go up on either side of a girl, right, at a party or at the bus stop maybe. Skirt up, knickers down, and her bum’s bare before she knows it. You’d get a slap now and then, but most of the time they loved it.’

  ‘Maybe as a joke, with a girl you know,’ Giles pointed out, ‘but this was a complete stranger!’

  ‘You know he gave her a few across the arse and all?’ Sid put in.

  ‘I saw,’ Giles confirmed.

  ‘With that paintbrush she was holding, I think,’ Hugh added, trying but not really succeeding in hiding his amusement. ‘They must have scarpered pretty sharpish, you know. I didn’t see anyone.’

  ‘Pity,’ Giles said. ‘And what about the way people just pretended they hadn’t seen anything!’

  ‘Bloody Frogs,’ Hugh agreed. ‘But don’t worry about it. She’s a tough girl, your Sarah. She’ll be all right.’

  Sarah took another bite of toast. Hugh was right, it seemed. She felt perfectly OK, as if her experience had been no more than a dream, a dream somewhere halfway between a nightmare and the sort that left her panties sticky in the morning. There was even a vague sense of having been cheated out of something because she didn’t feel worse, yet considerable satisfaction for the very same thing.

  ‘So what about the shoot?’ Hugh said quietly.

  ‘We can’t ask her to do it now!’ Sid responded, Giles agreeing immediately.

  ‘I suppose not,’ Hugh admitted. ‘Shit! Still, we’ve got the indoor shots. Those are good.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Sid agreed, ‘and we can get something else, maybe, while we’re here. Hire some local models perhaps?’

  Pushing her covers back, Sarah swung her legs off the bed. For days she had been preparing herself to walk nude down a Parisian street, until it had become one of the things she was determined to do. To let Céleste spoil that was a defeat, and very different to the defeat of receiving spankings, which she found impossible to deny. She pulled her robe on and stepped out into the main room, smiling at the three men.

  ‘I’m ready, let’s go.’

  ‘That’s all right, love,’ Sid said. ‘Don’t push yourself.’

  ‘I’m fine. I want to do it,’ Sarah insisted. ‘Just let me have a shower and I’m with you.’

  They had begun to talk among themselves as she walked across to the bathroom, Giles and Sid arguing against Hugh, who alone wanted to take Sarah up on her offer. She paid no attention, showering and drying herself before coming back to find them much as before, still sitting down and still talking.

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ she asked. ‘Because I’m going to do it anyway.’

  ‘It’s the middle of the morning, love,’ Sid pointed out.

  Sarah merely shrugged, knowing that if she began to discuss it she would quickly give in. As she went back into the bedroom she deliberately left the door open as she dropped her robe, walking nude to the cupboard where they’d put the coat and boots she was supposed to wear. She pulled both on, her heart already hammering in her chest but determined not to back out.

  Back in the other room the men were on their feet, Sid with his camera, Giles looking doubtful, Hugh already by the door. Sarah beckoned to them and left, the men following behind. It took all her courage to keep walking, down the stairs and out of the hotel, across the road and in among the streets opposite. The Rue Claude Magnien was no great distance, but time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, every glance from passers-by seeming to penetrate her coat and see that she was naked beneath, every step amplifying her tension and arousal.

  By the time she reached the end of the street she was barely aware of Sid’s presence as he began to take photographs of her. She walked briskly to the fountain where the short stretch from which cars were banned began. It was less perfect than the day before, but she didn’t hesitate as she walked to the end, now slowly. As she turned she found Sid down on o
ne knee, the camera pointed directly at her, with Hugh and Giles standing to either side, the first looking pleased with himself, the latter with an expression close to awe. Sarah gave him a smile and began to walk forward, her chin held high and her hands on the edges of her fur coat.

  The blood was singing in her veins as she shrugged the coat from her shoulders, the power of her emotions overwhelming as the moment came to go bare. She felt the coat slip down, and open, exposing her breasts, her belly, her sex and legs and, as it fell discarded to the ground behind, her bottom. Stark naked but for her boots, she stepped forward, her head swirling with embarrassment and pride, apprehension and delight, shame for her behaviour and a wicked joy for exactly the same reason.

  People were looking, with astonishment, with enjoyment, with disapproval, very different emotions to the nonchalant amusement with which not dissimilar audiences had greeted her two public spankings. She ignored them, walking on down the exact centre of the street, step by step as Sid’s motordrive clicked and whirred, until she reached the bin in which she’d been upended the day before.

  She turned, presenting her bottom to Sid as she started back, now putting a sway into her walk. Her coat was just yards ahead, representing safety she had no wish for, then abruptly every wish for as a policeman stepped out from the nearest café. Sarah froze, and so did he, his face registering first astonishment and then outrage. He got over his shock first, starting forward as he began to sputter in French, not a single word of which Sarah managed to pick up. It didn’t matter. His reaction to her going naked was all too obvious, and it contained not a hint of amusement, nor of tolerance.

  He reached her, still speaking too fast for her to understand, and as she began to babble apologies he had caught her by one wrist, clipping a handcuff to it, pulling her arm behind her back and fixing it to the other. Helpless, feeling completely vulnerable and full of self-pity, Sarah could only stand still as he reached for his radio, then stopped, clicking his heels together and giving a smart salute as a silky smooth and all too familiar voice spoke from behind Sarah.

  ‘Bonjour, Monsieur l’Agent. Il y a un problème?’

  ‘Mademoiselle du Musigny,’ the policeman replied. ‘Rien du tout, ce n’était qu’un petit tapage.’

  ‘Cette femme,’ Céleste continued with an airy gesture of her fingers towards Sarah. ‘Je la connais, et on peut éviter les écritures par se charger du problème ici, sans de la formalité.’

  ‘Quelle excellente idée, Mademoiselle,’ the policeman responded immediately, all his puff and outrage gone, to be replaced by a lewd good humour Sarah liked even less.

  ‘Dealt with informally?’ Sarah queried. ‘I think I’d rather be arrested, please. May I have my coat too?’

  The policeman merely gave her a puzzled look, and she was still trying to work out how to ask to be arrested in French when Céleste spoke again.

  ‘Une fessée sur les genoux, je pense. Which for your benefit, Sarah, means an over the knee spanking.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ Sarah exclaimed.

  ‘Whyever not?’ Céleste responded, her voice full of amusement as she stepped back.

  ‘You just can’t!’ Sarah wailed. ‘Hey, no … not again! Help!’

  She looked frantically around, but there was no sign of Sid, nor Hugh, nor even Giles. They’d fled, leaving her to her fate and adding considerably to her consternation as for the third time she was taken over the knee for punishment in a Parisian street. Nobody else came to her aid, or even paid much attention, one elderly gentleman nearby not even bothering to look up from his copy of Le Figaro, but merely moving up a little on his bench to make room for Sarah’s head as the policeman sat down.

  Céleste had come to watch, looking down on Sarah as she wriggled in the policeman’s grip, her face set in mingled amusement and contempt. The policeman was now hugely enjoying himself, all trace of his previous venom gone, as if he was a different person. He lifted a knee to hump Sarah’s bottom up into a better spanking position, took a moment to adjust her breasts so that they hung down against his leg instead of being squashed on it, chuckled as he pinched one already hard nipple between forefinger and thumb, and laid a hand on Sarah’s bottom, only not to spank, but to grope.

  ‘Hey, come on!’ Sarah protested as his thick, somewhat clammy fingers squeezed her cheek. ‘Get off me, you dirty old bastard! Céleste, stop him, he’s touching me up!’

  He was, both hands now on her bottom and her body trapped beneath his elbow to prevent her escape. Céleste merely laughed at Sarah’s plea, and again as the policeman’s hands dug deeper. Sarah squealed as her cheeks were hauled wide, stretching her anus open to the warm air and the lewd gaze of the policeman, Céleste and a couple who had stopped to watch the spanking.

  ‘Stop him, please?’ Sarah begged, her face turned up to Céleste. ‘This just isn’t fair, not to touch me up, not … oh!’

  Her squeak came as a blunt finger pressed to her bottom hole, tickling the little pit at the centre before moving lower. Sarah gasped again he began to investigate her sex, holding her lips open and probing her hole, until she’d begun to kick her feet and squirm in raw consternation.

  ‘Stop!’ she howled. ‘Please, not up my fanny! Oh you – you pig, you dirty old –’

  Again she broke off, this time with a gasp. He had inserted a second finger into her hole, then a third, and had now begun to masturbate her with obviously practised efficiency. Still Céleste did nothing, nor anyone else, merely watching as she was brought on heat, the policeman’s fingers working her hole open and his thumb diddling her clitoris, until at last she could hold back no longer and had begun to gasp and wriggle herself on his intruding hand.

  He stopped immediately, gave a knowing chuckle, and began to spank, applying his hand firmly to the cheekiest part of her bottom, but nothing like as firmly as he might have done. Sarah was already warm from being masturbated, and found herself enjoying it immediately despite her raging consternation. Only when Céleste made some remark in French, about the intention being to punish Sarah, did the spanking grow harder.

  Now with the full force of the policeman’s brawny arm being used on her helpless jiggling bottom, Sarah went wild, kicking and screaming in her pain, scissoring her legs to show off her cunt and bucking furiously so that her breasts slapped on his leg and the hard wood of the bench. The old man reading Le Figaro gave her a single dirty look and went back to his paper, but nobody intervened, with a few more people now watching, including, to Sarah’s horror, Raoul, Marcel and Lamond.

  Her despairing wail cut the air and she was immediately babbling pleas for protection from the policeman in between her squeals and yips as he continued to spank her. He took no notice, now peppering her bottom with single well-placed smacks, as if determined to give her an even glow all over. One last extra hard one right under her tuck and it was done, but she no longer felt relief, only trepidation.

  ‘Please, Céleste, haven’t I had enough?’ she begged as the policeman helped her up. ‘Please?’

  Even as she spoke she was rubbing her hot bottom as best she could with her cuffed wrists. Céleste’s mouth was curved up into a cruel smile as she met Sarah’s gaze, then she nodded.

  ‘Yes, my little cocotte, you have had enough, for now at any rate. Enough spanking, that is. Allez, mes enfants, à l’allée. To the alley, Sarah, where a little justice will be served up.’

  ‘No,’ Sarah responded as strong hands took her by the shoulders. ‘Céleste, please, not that. I – I promise I won’t do it again …’

  ‘It is simple justice,’ Céleste responded as the policeman and Raoul began to move her towards the black mouth of an alleyway very much like the one she had drawn. ‘What you make me do, I shall make you do.’

  ‘I haven’t had you spanked!’ Sarah squealed. ‘Come on, Céleste, please!’

  ‘Regard the spanking as a little extra, well deserved,’ Céleste responded. ‘Now come on, be a brave girl. Perhaps you can enjoy it as much
as you made me, who knows?’

  Céleste had stopped, standing with her arms folded and an expression of smug satisfaction on her face as Sarah was dragged into the alley. The bulk of Lamond blocked soon blocked Sarah’s view of Céleste as she was pulled deeper in, where the air was cool dank and rich with the smell of decay. Marcel followed his brother, as did others, blocking the alley completely as Sarah was eased to her knees beside a pair of overflowing dustbins. It was not merely like the alley she had drawn, it was the very same alley, right down to the dustbins and the corpse of the rat, now somewhat decayed.

  ‘Céleste!’ she called out, now frantic. ‘This isn’t fair, it really isn’t! I only made you do three! Céleste!’

  There was no response, and her legs were pressed down to the cold slimy concrete of the alley floor, with both Raoul and the policeman looking down on her while the others stood beyond, their faces filled with lust, Lamond with his great stubby cock already out of his fly.

  ‘At least undo my cuffs,’ Sarah said miserably, looking back over her shoulder in an attempt to make her wishes clear.

  The policeman looked at Raoul. Raoul looked at the policeman. Both shrugged. Both put their hands to their flies. Sarah drew a heavy sigh.

  ‘Go on then, if you really have to,’ she said, raising her voice as she continued. ‘I’m going to do it, Céleste, but you wait, you just wait until the next issue, you – glub.’

  She’d meant to call Céleste a bitch, but the policeman had put his cock in her mouth at that moment and the word had come out as a gulping noise. As she began to suck she was reflecting that it was probably just as well, and might even have saved her another spanking. The policeman was big, his cock a meaty brown rod with oddly slippery outer skin, so that as he began to come to erection it was like having an unusually large pork sausage in her mouth, raw.

  He was growing quickly too, forcing Sarah to open her mouth ever wider as she struggled to come to terms with what was being done to her, the scene she had played over in her mind so many times since drawing Céleste put to cock in the same sordid alleyway, which she had masturbated over more than once. Now it was real, only with more men than she had ever imagined, each one determined to enjoy her, and with her hands cuffed behind her back to take away what little control she might have had.