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About the Book
Also by Penny Birch
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One
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Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Copyright
Poppy glanced at Sabina, who merely nodded towards the chair. Mr Spottiswood sat down on it, beaming with satisfaction as he patted his lap.
‘Over we go, my dear,’ he said, ’Which way around would you like her, Mistress Sabina, bum first or face first?’
‘Face first,’ Sabina answered. ‘I’d like to see her expression while you spank her.’
When Gabrielle receives a gift from Jeff Bellbird of one week at an S&M boot camp in Wales, she becomes wary. But the mischievous Poppy and nurse Sabina persuade her to go. Confirming Gabrielle’s suspicions of foul play, the camp turns out to be a converted home hired for the purpose of punishment. To make matters worse, the facility is run by Mistress Kimiko, a poisonous Domina with a serious uniform fetish. Save for the mysterious Master, Mistress Kimiko has absolute authority. And when the girls are assigned to kitchen duty, the trouble begins immediately …
The peerless Penny Birch has assembled her famous cast of naughty girls for a week of slippery, messy fun that you will never forget.
Why not visit Penny’s website at
www.pennybirch.com
By the same author:
A TASTE OF AMBER
BAD PENNY
BARE BEHIND
BRAT
DIRTY LAUNDRY
FIT TO BE TIED
IN DISGRACE
IN FOR A PENNY
JODHPURS AND JEANS
NAUGHTY NAUGHTY
NURSE’S ORDERS
KNICKERS AND BOOTS
PEACH
PENNY IN HARNESS
PENNY PIECES
PETTING GIRLS
PLAYTHING
REGIME
TEMPER TANTRUMS
TICKLE TORTURE
TIGHT WHITE COTTON
UNIFORM DOLL
WHEN SHE WAS BAD
TIE AND TEASE
WHAT HAPPENS TO BAD GIRLS
BRUSHSTROKES
THE INDIGNITIES OF ISABELLE
THE INDISCRETIONS OF ISABELLE
THE INDECENCIES OF ISABELLE
(Writing as Cruella)
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9780753537510
www.randomhouse.co.uk
First published in 2007 by
Nexus
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Copyright © Penny Birch 2007
The right of Penny Birch to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
www.nexus-books.co.uk
ISBN 978 0 352 34091 7
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
My knickers were coming down.
I knew it from the expressions on their faces, Poppy’s full of mischief, Sabina’s cruel. It must have shown on my face too, because Poppy giggled as she put a square golden package down on the table.
‘Happy birthday, Gabrielle,’ she said, pulling out a chair and turning it sideways on.
‘You are going to spank me, aren’t you?’ I asked.
‘It’s your birthday,’ she answered me.
‘Birthday spankings are traditional,’ Sabina added, ‘at least for girls like you, so let’s not have any nonsense.’
‘I have a client due in twenty minutes,’ I pointed out, ‘perhaps if . . .’
‘No nonsense,’ Sabina repeated. ‘Kneel on the chair. Bum up, panties down.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Do it!’ she snapped, and I found myself reacting by instinct, but still talking as my knees settled on the hard surface of the kitchen chair.
‘Just quickly, perhaps . . .’
‘Do you ever shut up?’ Sabina demanded. ‘Poppy, stick her panties in her mouth, that should keep her quiet.’
‘Sabina, please, I . . .’
‘You’re only making it worse for yourself,’ Poppy interrupted me. ‘Come on, bend over and let’s have that pretty bottom bare.’
I obeyed, but it was impossible not to make a face as I bent forward to rest my arms on the table, raising my bottom into spanking position.
‘That’s better,’ Poppy said as she began to ruck my skirt up.
I didn’t answer, giving in to the pleasure of having her expose my behind as my skirt was turned up around my waist and my knickers eased slowly down. As my bottom came bare Poppy kissed each cheek, and for a moment I thought she was going to bury her face between them, only for Sabina to give a meaningful cough. Poppy giggled and pulled away, levering my knickers down and off. I’d given in, and lifted my knees obligingly as she stripped me, to leave me with my naked bottom stuck out towards them.
‘Back in, Gabby,’ Sabina ordered, ‘let’s have those cheeks open.’
Again I reacted to her voice by instinct, pulling my back in to make my cheeks spread and show off the lips of my sex and the wrinkled pink knot of my anus. They liked to make me show everything, arguing that when a woman is to be punished she should be completely stripped of her dignity. I understood, and was happy to play their game for what they gave me, although my own pleasure was not in the supposed humiliation of my exposure, but simply in my nudity.
‘Open wide,’ Poppy giggled, showing me my knickers.
She had them balled in her fist, and as my mouth came wide she’d quickly pushed them in, forcing me to make spit and suck on the dry cotton to get them comfortable. That was humiliating, to be gagged with my own underwear to shut me up while my bottom was smacked, but I knew it was for the best. I always make a fuss. I can’t help it.
Sabina had pulled out another chair and sat down, watching as Poppy prepared me. I thought they’d start, and was surprised Sabina wasn’t going to do the spanking. She usually did, for both me and Poppy. Punishing us was her favourite thing. Now she just watched as Poppy pushed the small golden box under my face and tugged a piece of ribbon loose to let it fall open. Inside was a small but perfectly made cake, just a few centimetres across, iced with plain chocolate and topped with swirls of dark brown chocolate cream.
‘Happy birthday,’ she said again, took me by the hair and jammed my face into the chocolate cake.
I never even had a chance to react, let alone resist. The chocolate cream squashed against my skin, the icing beneath broke, and sticky cake smeared out across my features. I’d heard the squelch as my face went in, I heard their laughter as Poppy began to rub my head in the mess, and I heard the first smack of her hand on my bottom as she started to spank me. She’d taken me completely by surprise, robbing me of any chance I might have had of retaining my dignity as I was punished. Instead I lost control immediately, wriggling in her grip and waving my hands in futile remonstrance, kicking my feet and treading up and down with my knees.
The bigger the fuss I made the more they laughed, and the more they laughed the harder Poppy spanked, still rubbing my face in the ruined cake as my bottom bounced to the stinging slaps. Nor did she stop the smacks, but carried on, which added an ever rising sense of resentment to my emotions as my bottom was slapped up to a burning, smarting ball.
‘What a sight!’ Sabina crowed, struggling to get her words out through her laughter. ‘OK, that’s enough, Poppy. Let her have some cake now.’
The spanking stopped and my head was pulled up, Poppy keeping a firm grip in my hair as I spat out my soggy knickers and gasping in the chocolate-scented air. I couldn’t see a thing, my glasses smeared with cake, and I quickly took them off. My bottom was on fire, hot and throbbing, but my sex had begun to react, leaving me badly in need of a touch and theirs to do with as they pleased. The moment I’d got my breath back I began to nibble up bits of chocolate cake with my lips, hoping that if I was playful and submissive they’d take pity on me.
‘Good girl,’ Sabina said as she stood up. ‘Hmm, you’re juicing nicely.’
I gasped as she slid a finger into my vagina, wiggling it about to see how moist and ready I’d become. Poppy giggled to discover how excited she’d made me, and put a hand back to my bottom, first to plant one more admonishing spank across my cheeks and then to stroke my heated skin. They both knew full well what I wanted, but I realised they might prefer to have me seated on my hot bottom and aroused sex while I talked to Stephen Stanbrook about his life after divorce.
‘Please,’ I managed, ‘be kind to me.’
‘Shall we?’ Poppy queried, even as she let a finger stray to my anus, tickling the little hole to make my muscle contract.
‘Maybe,’ Sabina answered, easing a second finger in up my vagina, ‘if she asks very nicely.’
‘Please,’ I repeated. ‘Please do it.’
‘Please do what?’ Poppy demanded, still holding me firmly by my hair as she tickled my anus.
‘Masturbate me,’ I asked, my frustration bubbling up as I realised they were going to tease me into begging for it and maybe still leave me in need.
‘You can do better than that, Gabrielle,’ Sabina chided and she had slid a third finger into me, holding me open behind as she slipped her spare hand in under my belly.
‘I . . . I beg you,’ I managed. ‘Make me come, please?’
‘Not good enough,’ she said, but her hand was cupping my mound, her fingers pressing firmly to my smooth, shaved skin and half of her hand in up my vagina.
Poppy had penetrated me too, the top joint of her finger wiggling in my anus, helping to make my breathing ragged as I tried again.
‘Please! Please make me come, Sabina . . . Poppy. Please? It’s not fair to leave me like this, and I did let you spank me . . .’
‘Don’t whine, Gabrielle,’ Sabina chided. ‘Just ask, but use some dirty words.’
Poppy giggled and a sob escaped my lips. They knew my weak spots only too well.
‘Come on,’ Poppy urged, ‘nice and rude.’
‘Rub me off,’ I tried. ‘Fist me and rub me off . . . you can tickle my bottom too, Poppy, and put your finger in.’
‘Try harder,’ Sabina ordered, but she had begun to massage my pubic mound and ease her hand in and out of my now gaping sex. ‘Come on, we all know you’re not as prissy as you make out.’
My answer was a gasp, because Poppy had pushed her finger in up my bottom, giggling in delight as she felt around inside my rectum. I was nearly there, needing only a few touches to my clitoris, but Sabina had her fingers spread, deliberately tormenting me as she spoke again.
‘Go on, Gabrielle, you’re not getting away with this. Tell me what you want.’
‘You can do it,’ Poppy insisted. ‘Come on, the way a man would, some dirty bastard.’
‘Rub me,’ I answered. ‘Rub . . . rub my pussy until I come. Please, Sabina, rub my pussy off while Poppy fingers my bottom . . . my bum . . . my bumhole . . .’
I broke off with a sigh as both of them increased the vigour of their motions. Poppy let go of my hair and began to smack my bottom again, and Sabina, a cheek each. It no longer hurt, just serving to increase my arousal, but still they wouldn’t touch that vital spot between my lips.
‘Please?’ I sobbed. ‘Do it . . . just do it. Rub my pussy while you finger my bum and spank me. Make me come, please . . . rub my pussy . . . frig me . . . frig my cunt, my dirty cunt . . . yes, thank you, thank you so much.’
Sabina had given in, easing her fingers between my sex lips to rub on my clitoris. Poppy laughed to see me so eager, probing deep up my bottom as my cheeks and the muscles of my thighs began to contract.
‘Don’t stop, or I will,’ Sabina warned and I was babbling filth as the full bulk of her fist pushed in up my vagina.
‘No, don’t stop, frig me off . . . frig my dirty cunt, Sabina . . . and my bum, Poppy, right in up my box . . . my dirt box . . . my hamster run . . .’
I was coming, my whole body tight as I rode the waves of ecstasy generated by Sabina’s finger, my head full of what they were doing to me and what they’d done: taken off my knickers and stuck them in my mouth, pushed my face in my own birthday cake, spanked me and made me talk dirty while they masturbated me to orgasm with both my holes penetrated. They let me do it, holding my body as I shivered and gasped my way through orgasm, neither of them speaking until I was done.
‘Hamster run?’ Poppy asked, amused yet not without a touch of disgust. ‘Where did you get that from?’
I immediately began to blush.
‘I’m sorry, but you did say to talk dirty. It’s something Jeff Bellbird said, and you know what he’s like.’
‘That’s for sure,’ Sabina agreed, ‘filthy fat bastard, and speaking of Jeff, you’ve got a card from him, a big one.’
‘I thought he was in Japan?’ Poppy queried.
‘It’s from Japan.’
‘That was thoughtful of him,’ I said, surprised that Jeff even knew my birthday, let alone remembered it. ‘I’ll have a look when I’ve cleaned up. Could you do the floor and the table, please? Stephen Stanbrook will be here any minute.’
The bell went, precipitating an immediate flurry of activity as I struggled to make myself decent and Poppy cleaned up the mess. Sabina mainly gave instructions, which was typical of her behaviour recently. Aside from the detail with my birthday cake, what we’d done had been typical of the sort of sex the three of us had been having of late. Sabina was always firmly in charge, with myself as her plaything and Poppy at some point in between.
Even when we had the occasional male playmate to visit she remained strictly dominant, although she didn’t mind handling the occasional cock. She wouldn’t even pose or take a playful spanking, but she did at least know how it felt. Jeff Bellbird had done it, and she’d never forgiven him. He hadn’t asked either, but simply assumed that because she was a friend of mine and Poppy’s, it would be acceptable to punish her for making a remark about his weight. It hadn’t just been a few swats over her clothes either, but bare, and in front of several people. That still rankled, and he was the one male among my friends she would never play with at all.
Since we’d met Sabina nearly two years before, she had slowly but surely stamped her authority on our relationship, gaining in confidence and skill until it was much more about us fulfilling her needs than the other way around, at least on the surface. Deeper down, so much of what she now liked to make us do, or the ways she liked to punish us, were exactly the things we had hoped for when we first met.
I had changed too, growing more confident and accepting of her right to spank me, also taking on much of the culture associated with submission and punishment. Her rich East End accent and vocabulary had also affected me, moving the formal English I’d learnt as a child in France and working as a therapist in London towards the colloquial.
Stephen was a little early, and I just managed to let him in within time for his appointment. I was still checking for crumbs in my hair as I pressed the communicator, and I was glad it was him. Unlike the great majority of my clients he knew that my relationship with Poppy was unconventional, having been referred to me by Jeff, who knew exactly what we liked. Considering the smell of chocolate and sex that both open windows and air freshener had failed to conceal, it was just as well, and I still found it hard to put on my professional manner when he came in, with Poppy and Sabina now in a bedroom.
‘Good morning, Gabrielle,’ he said, and kissed me.
It was not what I’d been expecting at all, as our last session had largely consisted of me listening to him enlarging on the woes of his divorce settlement.
‘You seem greatly improved,’ I ventured, motioning him to my couch.
He didn’t take it, but settled himself into one of the black leather armchairs instead, always a sure sign with clients that they’re feeling good in themselves. The way he immediately relaxed with his hands folded easily across his stomach also suggested confidence, even complacency, very different from the nervous fidgeting of the time before. I gave him an encouraging smile as I took the other chair.
‘I’m more than just improved,’ he stated. ‘I’m the happiest man alive, and the luckiest. In fact, I won’t be needing your services any more . . . not that I don’t appreciate your efforts of course, and I think it’s fair to say you’ve done more to keep me sane over the last three years . . .’
He paused, noticing the huge, canary-yellow envelope Sabina had carelessly put down on my work table. Jeff, with characteristic childishness, had written the W and the Os in my address so that they appeared to be bottoms and breasts. I put it quickly aside, trying not to blush as I tried to explain.
‘A birthday card, from Jeff Bellbird.’
Stephen nodded with what I hoped was understanding.
‘Is it your birthday?’
‘Yes, today.’
‘Many happy returns.’
‘Thank you,’ I answered him, and went on, determined to get back on track. ‘You were saying?’
‘That I’m the happiest man alive,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve met the most wonderful woman, my Tasanee, a true jewel. Do you know, she is the first person to accept my sexuality without qualification? I feel so liberated! To be able to express my dominance in this awful, repressed . . . crushed society, it is wonderful, marvellous . . .’
He went on, and I listened. I have never calculated what proportion of my work consists of simply listening to my clients, but it must be something in the region of half. It is also essential, both in allowing them to speak with absolute freedom and to enable me to gain a deeper understanding of the situation.
Essentially, Stephen had used an internet service to secure himself a Thai bride. She was apparently a natural submissive, a masochist, and eager to support him in his role as dominant male and sexual master. I didn’t criticise. A basic tenet of Rogersian therapy is that so long as nobody else is being endangered the client’s well-being is paramount. The morality of Stephen’s actions was not my concern, let alone with respect to the subjective expectations of British society. Nevertheless, I promised myself I would find an opportunity to speak to Tasanee herself as soon as I could, just to be sure.
Sabina was rather more forthright in her assessment, emerging from the bedroom before the sound of Stephen’s footsteps had faded on the stairs and speaking immediately.
‘He’s bought himself a fucking sex slave, hasn’t he? What a bastard!’
Poppy came out as well, her face flushed with a mixture of outrage and excitement. I drew a sigh.
‘I do wish you two wouldn’t listen while I am with clients. It is confidential.’
‘The dirty pig!’ Sabina went on, ignoring me completely. ‘I bet she’s really young too.’
There was more than a little jealousy mingled with the disapproval in her voice, but I didn’t say anything, not wanting to risk another spanking, which she was all too likely to dish out if I challenged her in any way.
‘You’re going to make sure she’s OK, aren’t you?’ Poppy asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ I assured her, and reached for my cards in an attempt to change the topic of conversation.
There were several, from my parents and a few old friends in France, more from the UK, and Jeff’s. I opened it last, expecting something rude and probably in execrable taste. What I got was a large card showing two girls in the hentai style, one with green hair, one with blue, but both naked except for white knee-length socks, shiny black shoes, and nappies. Both were also in the same pose, knock-kneed and with their bottoms stuck out towards the viewer while they were looking back over their shoulders with expressions of acute shame. The seat of each girl’s nappy showed a tell-tale bulge of grotesquely exaggerated size, leaving no doubt whatsoever about what they’d done.
‘Cute!’ Poppy giggled, craning over my shoulder to see. ‘Trust Jeff.’
‘I always said he was a pervert,’ Sabina put in. ‘What’s this?’
Some pieces of paper had dropped out of the card as I opened it, a small, glossy brochure and four of what appeared to be tickets. Sabina picked up the brochure.
‘Wyddon Manor,’ she read, ‘luxury accommodation for the discerning holidaymaker or the perfect spot for a conference. Wyddon Manor is set deep in the beautiful and secluded Plynlimon Mountains, at the very heart of romantic Wales, and yet within easy access of Aberystwyth . . . I think he’s bought you a week in a holiday cottage, Gabby.’
‘Sort of, yes,’ Poppy agreed, looking at one of the tickets. ‘The Institute, where all your fantasies come true. The Institute is a secure environment in which to explore your sexuality in the company of likeminded individuals, an environment where the normal rules of society are replaced by SM convention and . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah . . . in rural Wales, catering and accommodation included . . . blah . . . blah . . . Admit One – £400. Four hundred pounds!’
‘That’s not bad for an SM boot camp,’ Sabina pointed out, ‘and that’s what it is, obviously.’
‘It’s a pretty generous birthday present, all the same,’ Poppy insisted. ‘Four tickets at four hundred each!’
‘It seems suspiciously generous,’ I suggested as my instinctive gratitude gave way to concern. ‘Jeff can be generous, yes, but he usually has an ulterior motive.’
‘So?’ Poppy responded. ‘It sounds fun, and anyway, what’s Jeff going to do? He’s in Japan.’
‘That’s true,’ I admitted, ‘but still . . .’
Poppy had taken the brochure, and came to sit beside me. It showed a large house built of grey stone, with high gables and more chimneys than seemed really useful. There was a small, flat lawn surrounded by a garden sculpted into the hillside, with dense pine woods rising steeply behind. It was certainly pretty, although at once wild and somewhat austere, and reminded me rather of southern Germany.
‘It certainly looks lonely,’ Poppy said.
‘There’s probably a village or a Youth Hostel or something right behind where the photographer’s standing,’ I pointed out.
‘Don’t be such a pessimist,’ she answered. ‘It’s obviously not overlooked, or they wouldn’t have set it up there, would they?’
‘Do you suppose the owners know what it’s being used for?’ I queried. ‘I’m not sure if . . .’
‘Don’t tell me you’re not going to go?’ she interrupted. ‘Come on, Gabby, don’t be a spoilsport. I’ll come, and Sabina, and maybe Sophie, or June or somebody. It’ll be great.’
‘Yeah, we should go,’ Sabina agreed. ‘Why not?’
‘When is it for?’ I asked cautiously.
‘The week after next,’ Poppy told me.
‘In that case it’s impossible,’ I pointed out. ‘I have appointments, and we’re going to see Hurst’s interpretation of the Ring Cycle, and . . .’
‘Oh come on, Gabby,’ she insisted. ‘Jeff’s been really generous.’
‘That is all very well, but as I said . . .’
‘You can change your appointments around, and we can see the opera another time. Come on, please?’
‘I want to go,’ Sabina put in.
‘Why don’t the two of you go then?’ I suggested. ‘Perhaps I can come down at the weekend?’
‘Gabby!’ Poppy protested.
‘You’re coming,’ Sabina stated.
‘I am sorry, but I can’t.’
‘You’re coming,’ she repeated.
She’d stood up, her strong, dark face once more setting in the cruel smile I’d grown so used to. Poppy giggled as she realised Sabina’s intention. I spread my hands in a resigned shrug.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to, Sabina, only that I cannot afford the time.’
‘You’re coming,’ she insisted, ‘or do I have to deal with you first?’
‘It won’t make any difference,’ I protested, trying to fight down the bubble of chagrin that was forming in my throat. ‘Please, Sabina . . .’
‘Do her, Sabina!’ Poppy urged. ‘She’ll soon change her mind.’
‘I’ve just been spanked!’ I protested.
‘That wasn’t what I had in mind,’ Sabina answered, and her grin had changed from cruel to downright fiendish.
I wasn’t sure what she was going to do to me, only that it would certainly be painful and probably humiliating too, so I got up quickly.
‘No, Sabina, not now!’ I protested. ‘This evening, maybe, but I’ve got another client in an hour . . . less than an hour . . .’
‘That’s plenty of time,’ she answered, and darted forward.
I’d been expecting it, and dodged behind the chair, which would have been fine if Poppy hadn’t stuck a foot out to trip me up. Sabina’s fingers clutched the sleeve of my jacket as I fought for balance, but I got away, dashing into the bathroom, but too slowly to shut the door on them. I couldn’t help laughing as I backed slowly away, but I was still trying to talk my way out of what I had coming to me.
‘Not now, you two, please? I’ll do whatever you like this evening, I promise, but not now!’
‘We want you to come to Wales,’ Poppy replied.
‘But I can’t . . .’
‘Oh yes you can, you’re just being difficult.’
‘You’re going to,’ Sabina added.
I’d backed up against the toilet, which was as far as I could go.
‘Please?’ I tried, but they’d already grabbed me.
I was still protesting as I was dragged down on to the bathroom floor, but I couldn’t stop laughing, and I knew that unless I managed to sound genuinely upset I was going to get it. Sure enough, I’d quickly been pinned down on the floor, with Poppy sitting on my legs as Sabina straddled my waist. She was too strong for me, and all I could do was wriggle feebly as she turned around and settled herself into position with the full denim-clad ball of her bottom directly over my face. Reaching down, she pulled my glasses off, leaving me feeling even more vulnerable.
‘Are you going to come?’ she asked.
‘Sabina, I . . .’
My voice was cut off as she lowered her bottom into my face, rubbing the seat of her jeans against my cheeks as I struggled to turn away. After a moment she rose again, but her hands had gone to the buckle of her belt.
‘Are you going to come?’ she repeated.
‘I would, Sabina, but . . .’
‘Oh dear,’ she interrupted. ‘You’re a slow learner, aren’t you, Gabrielle?’
Poppy giggled and adjusted her position a little, freeing my skirt from beneath her. Sabina began to undo her belt as Poppy rucked my skirt up. I struggled a little, but they had me well and truly pinned down and I soon gave up, instead trying to fight down my feelings of consternation and helplessness as my skirt was pushed up over my hips and Sabina eased her jeans down to expose lacy red knickers barely covering the full, golden brown cheeks of her bottom.
‘Tell me you’re going to come,’ she demanded, ‘or I sit it in your face.’
‘Look, Sabina, I . . .’
She sat down, smothering me between her cheeks so well that I could feel the line of panty material where it covered her anal region and her sex, which she’d begun to grind against my chin. I heard Poppy give a little purr of delight to see me get my face sat on, then Sabina spoke.
‘Pull her knickers down.’
I tried to fight, wriggling my hips and trying to kick my legs, but it was no good at all. Poppy took hold of my knickers. Again Sabina wiggled, rubbing her bum in my face, before once more lifting it, but not far, so that my face was just inches from her big, fleshy cheeks.
‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Do you give in, or do I have to make you kiss my arsehole first?’
‘It’s not that, Sabina . . .’
‘You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Stick something up her, Poppy.’
‘Which hole?’
‘Both, why do things by halves? Well, Gabby, last chance?’
I didn’t even answer, fairly sure they’d do it anyway and pretty well surrendered to my fate. Sabina settled her bottom back in my face as Poppy went to work, climbing off my legs so that she could roll me up and get at my sex. My knickers were quickly pulled down, exposing my sex, and I was left, with Sabina holding my legs up, both my sex and bottom fully exposed. I heard the faint pop of the fridge door being opened, then Poppy’s voice.
‘I’ll lube her up with some butter, and . . . ooh, she’s got courgettes!’
‘They’re too big, Poppy!’ I protested, my words coming out muffled by my faceful of bottom, ‘and anyway, I was going to make ratatouille for dinner.’
She didn’t even bother to reply, and Sabina ground her bottom a little more firmly into my face to shut me up. I knew I was helpless, but I couldn’t help but wriggle as I heard Poppy close the fridge door once more, my apprehension now bordering on fear at the thought of being made to accommodate a courgette up my bottom. She’d be careful, I knew, but I’d picked the courgettes myself, and they were particularly fat ones.
‘Do stay still, Gabrielle,’ Sabina chided. ‘If you don’t want it, all you have to do is say you’ll come to Wales.’
I tried to answer, but her bottom was pressed firmly into my face, and a moment later I felt Poppy’s fingers between my legs, then the cold, uneven shape of a piece of butter, which she eased in up my vagina. A second followed, applied to my anus and stuck just a little way in, so that my hole was open around it, with the heat of my body already melting both pats to make them slippery and my twin holes accessible. I began to wriggle again, and Poppy laughed out loud for the view I was giving her.
‘Up she goes,’ she said happily, and obviously indifferent to whether I’d given in or not.
Something round and firm pressed between my sex lips, a little high, and then directly on my buttery hole, which began to spread. I hadn’t even needed lubricating, my vagina giving easily to the thick courgette and both Sabina and Poppy giggling as they watched it go in, with me still wriggling beneath them. Melted butter squashed out as I was penetrated, to trickle down from my vagina to my anus and between the cheeks of my well-spread bottom.
‘Now fuck her,’ Sabina said eagerly, and Poppy had begun to move the courgette inside me.
She was pushing it a little deeper every time, and faster, until I was arching my back in pleasure and gasping against Sabina’s musky bottom flesh despite myself. Only when she stopped fucking me, leaving the courgette as deep up my hole as it would go, did my apprehension return. Again I tried to speak, but Poppy’s finger had already found my anus, worming its way in up the buttery little hole. Sabina spread my legs a little wider and rolled me higher still so that she could watch my anus opened and I was held like that, completely vulnerable.
‘Don’t worry, Gabby,’ Poppy said gently, ‘you’re quite a bit looser than you used to be.’
My answer was a muffled sob, then another gasp as she slid two more fingers into my now open anal ring. I was doing my best to relax, but the thought of the fat, hard courgette being put up me was making it difficult, with my ring twitching and tightening on Poppy’s fingers as she gently eased my hole.
‘She looks pretty sloppy,’ Sabina said, ‘won’t that do?’
I wanted to point out that to the best of my knowledge she’d never had anything up her bottom hole bigger than the tip of my tongue, but I knew I’d only get a lecture on her dominance and the courgette would go up anyway, so held my peace, trying to fight down my feelings as my anus was slowly but surely prepared for buggering. At last she spoke.
‘That’s open enough. Push it out, Gabs.’
There was no choice but to obey, deliberately pushing to make my bottom hole pout and so accept the tip of the courgette, which she’d now touched to the puffy, moist central hole. I felt myself spread, easily at first, then suddenly tense as my ring reached its full size. My muscles went stiff by instinct and Poppy immediately took the pressure off, only to push again, a little more firmly, withdraw, and push one more time.
It went in, my bottom hole spreading wide on the thick, green stem of the courgette. I felt my rectum fill as she pushed it up, doubling the feeling of being plugged and leaving me completely and utterly helpless beneath them, not just physically, but mentally. Poppy began to fuck me again, moving both courgettes slowly in and out of my now gaping holes as Sabina spoke.
‘Now you’re going to lick my arse, Gabrielle.’
She lifted up a little, once more presenting me with the full, dark spread of her bottom, her cheeks now wide, with only the minuscule red knickers to cover her most intimate parts.
‘I’ll be nice and give you one last chance,’ she said. ‘Are you coming?’
I didn’t even bother to answer, too far gone to want to resist. She had already put her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, and barely waited a moment before giving a disappointed tut as she began to push them down. I watched her bare herself, my vision already dizzy with pleasure from the two fat courgettes working in my holes as the full, nude spread of her bottom came bare in my face. She took them down only as far as they would go with her legs spread across my body, but it was far enough, the wrinkled, jet black star of her anus plainly visible between her open cheeks, and also the twin curve of her puffy, excited sex lips.
‘Lick it, lick my arsehole,’ she demanded, and she sat on my face.
Now she was nude, with nothing to keep my tongue from her flesh, while I was far beyond resistance. I began to lick immediately, lapping at the little fleshy bumps of her anal star and probing her hole with my tongue. She sighed in pleasure and reached back to pull her cheeks wide, allowing me to push my tongue deeper still up into her bottom hole, licking for all I was worth and swallowing down the thick, feminine taste as I made spit in my mouth.
She seemed to have forgotten about Wales, now moaning and gasping for the pleasure of having her bottom licked and rubbing herself against my face to get more friction. Poppy was still moving the courgettes inside me as I licked, but stopped suddenly, leaving both deep inside, just as Sabina rose a little to release my trapped arms. Both of them knew there was no fight left in me and they were right. I took hold of Sabina’s bottom, holding her heavy, rounded cheeks wide across my face so that she could play with her breasts and sex while I licked her anus.
‘That’s right, you lovely little tart, Gabrielle,’ she sighed, ‘lick it well. You love my bum in your face, don’t you, you slut?’
I was far too busy to answer, but nodded my head as I continued to lick and probe. Poppy pushed close, rubbing herself against me, her sex now bare and warm and wet against the flesh of my thigh, and as Sabina went quiet I knew they were kissing as they used me. Poppy put a thumb to my clitoris, masturbating me, and I almost immediately felt myself go tight on the thick, heavy loads in my vagina and anus. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to, my body going into hard, involuntary contractions as I began to come, completely helpless beneath them, wave after wave of ecstasy sweeping through me until I thought I’d pass out.
Yet I’d never stopped licking, and Sabina was going to come too, moaning and wriggling herself into my face, one finger busy between her sex lips. Her cheeks tightened in my face, her anus began to pulse on my well-intruded tongue and she was there, the wet from her sex running down my chin and neck as my own orgasm rose once more in response to hers. I couldn’t see what Poppy was doing, but I could feel her pressed close to me, and I heard her moan as she too came.
Sabina finally lifted her bottom off my face, allowing me to gasp in air as she spoke.
‘That was good. Thanks, Gabby, you really know how to lick arse.’
‘She gets enough practice,’ Poppy answered, her voice still raw from her climax, ‘but we were supposed to be making her give in about Wales, not getting off.’
‘That’s true,’ Sabina admitted. ‘How about it, Gabby?’
‘Sabina, you know . . .’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! Say you’re coming to Wales, or . . . or I’m going to pee on you, right in your face.’
‘What, you’re coming?’
‘No, but you can pee in my face if you like.’
We drove down to Wyddon Manor on the Saturday, leaving in the early hours of the morning so that we could get well clear of London before the traffic began to build up and make the best of our time there. Sabina was driving the new Mini her father had bought her on her twenty-first birthday and we were soon off the motorway and driving through the Herefordshire countryside.
I was given the map and led us deep into Wales before turning south on a narrow, twisting A road between steep grey-green hillsides and gloomy looking pine forests. I hadn’t seen a building in miles, and no human beings either, save those in the occasional car and one distant group of hikers. I had at least found Wyddon Manor on the map, at the end of a track marked as unpaved and with woods on three sides, but the map only went so far to prepare me for the reality when we arrived. The brochure hadn’t done it justice, either.
The house stood well back from the road, with the drive coming off a hairpin bend and rising steeply, so that only the roofs were visible and those only for a moment. The gardens were a maze of hedges, tiny steep lawns and flights of steps cut in the same grey stone as the house, with only one big area of flat grass directly in front of the house, while the trees hemmed it in to within fifty metres on every side save the front. A service yard at the back served for a car park, where Sabina stopped.
There didn’t seem to be anybody about at first, and the three of us stood in the yard for a moment, feeling slightly lost, before a woman stepped out from the back door. She was tiny, certainly no more than one metre fifty tall, and petite as well, also strikingly pretty in a classically oriental fashion, with fine features, large dark eyes and glossy black hair hanging down to the backs of her knees in a pony-tail. Her dress was no less striking; thigh boots with thin steel heels, a pair of minuscule shorts so tight the outline of her sex showed clearly beneath, while most of her tiny buttocks seemed to have spilt out at the back, an equally tight halter top halfunzipped at the front to show off what cleavage she had, and matching collar and cuffs set with pointed steel studs. A long, double-strand tawse was clipped to her shorts. All of it was either black leather or steel, creating a striking effect slightly spoiled by the bright yellow clipboard she was holding.
She glanced at her clipboard, then spoke.
‘I am Mistress Kimiko. On your knees to me, dirt sluts!’
She spoke in a sharp, high voice, somehow peremptory, so that I felt a desire to obey at the same instant as my immediate resentment. I wasn’t sure quite how best to answer her in any case, but Sabina had no such doubts.
‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ she demanded, her voice full of very real aggression.
For one brief instant the girl looked puzzled, but with another glance at her clipboard she replied, no less authoritative than before.
‘You are Sophie Cherwell, yes, dirt slut?’
‘No, I’m Sabina Ranglin, and if you call me that one more time . . .’
‘Many apologies,’ Kimiko broke in, although she didn’t sound as if she meant it. ‘You are the Domina, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Sabina replied, only slightly mollified.
Kimiko once again consulted her clipboard, lifting the top sheet of paper to glance at the one beneath.
‘There should be four girls,’ she said after a moment, ‘Mistress Sabina and three dirt sluts, Poppy, Gabrielle and Sophie. Sophie is missing?’
‘Sophie’s coming by train,’ I told her. ‘She should be here this evening.’
‘Quiet, dirt slut!’ Kimiko snapped.
‘Excuse me, Kimiko,’ Poppy answered her, giggling, ‘but I think the expression you want is “dirty slut”, not “dirt slut”.’
‘I know what I am saying!’ Kimiko snapped back, rounding on us. ‘Miss pig-girl Poppy and Gabrielle who likes to make pee-pee in diapers. I was addressing your Mistress, also. You do not speak unless spoken to, and when you speak, you call me Mistress, always!’
I was going to say something, and so was Sabina, but Poppy had hung her head and folded her hands into her lap.
‘Yes, Mistress,’ she replied, her voice meek and submissive, but with just the faintest hint of mockery.
Kimiko didn’t seem to notice.
‘That is better,’ she said. ‘Show me respect, always, and maybe I will beat you less . . .’
‘Poppy is my playmate, not yours,’ Sabina cut in, ‘Gabrielle too, and if they need to be punished I’m going to be the one who does it.’
Kimiko turned to Sabina, her perfect little face full of very real anger. Her hand moved towards her