Bad Penny (24 page)

I knew them – there would be no let-off. At the very least I could expect to have to offer myself to some yokel smelling of hay and horses. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation right down my spine. I could only smile at my own dirty mind. Still, I wished it had been Vicky or Amber who had lost instead.

The morning came, eventually; the others were relaxed and unhurried while the tension inside me grew to an unbearable knot in my stomach. I thought of backing out, but rebelled against it. I decided that Amber wouldn't let them choose anything too dreadful, then decided that she just might. I tried to browbeat Anderson into telling me, but he just smiled and carried on buttering a piece of toast with an infuriating nonchalance. Eventually I sat down by the window, watching clouds drift across the sky and trying not to bite my fingernails.

I must have been there for half an hour when I heard the door open and turned to see Amber. She was trying to look stern and cool, but I could sense her mounting excitement. Her hand came forward, tossing something towards me, aimed deliberately at the floor instead of into my lap. I bent forward, half-intentionally going to my knees as I reached for the little puddle of scarlet cloth.

‘Put them on,' she ordered.

I obeyed, sliding my own knickers down under my skirt and replacing them with the plain red cotton briefs that she had thrown me.

‘Leave them there,' she said as I made to pick up my discarded panties. ‘Come with me.'

I followed her out of the room, knowing that she was well aware of the effect her casual dominance was having on me. Anderson and Vicky were waiting outside, he twisting a long piece of orange baling twine around his fingers, she testing the colours of various lipsticks on the back of her hand. They fell into step beside us as Amber led the way out on to the road and presently down an overgrown public footpath. None of them spoke, only Anderson humming to himself in an infuriating way as if we were just out for an ordinary morning stroll instead of intending to put me out for some undoubtedly humiliating sexual experience.

We must have gone about two miles when Amber stopped at a decaying wooden stile where the path opened from a wood on to a field.

‘Here we are,' she said. ‘Perfect, isn't it?'

Vicky and Anderson nodded appreciatively, but I was simply puzzled. There was nobody in sight and the footpath we had come along had been so overgrown that I didn't imagine that it was really used at all – certainly it didn't seem to lead anywhere. Amber crossed the stile and gestured for me to follow her. As I climbed the stile, a broad panorama of fields and hedges came into view, invisible from lower down.

‘Pop your panties off, Penny,' Amber said, holding her hand out for them. ‘Then kneel on the stile, facing into the wood. Anderson, the twine please.'

My whole body was trembling as I levered the panties down and passed them to Amber, then knelt on the stile. The top rung was under my belly, Vicky pushing gently down on my shoulders so that my bottom stuck right up. I felt Amber's fingers as she bound my ankles and wrists, easing my knees apart and taking my arms behind my back so that I could feel the cool, rough wood against my breasts through my blouse. I wondered if they had chosen my position so that I could be fucked from the rear or in order to beat me. In either case, it seemed an odd place to choose as they could have had me just as well in the garden, which was hardly less lonely or subject to intrusion.

My eyes then lit on the thick growth that bordered the wood, and I was sure I knew what they were going to do to me. There were nettles: tall, lush, painful-looking nettles, and they were growing in abundance. That was why I was bare under my skirt. They were going to lift it and tickle me with nettles. First it would be my bum-cheeks, then my thighs and lastly all the most sensitive areas of my pussy and bottom-slit. I imagined the pain, thinking of my pussy-lips, red, swollen and throbbing.

‘Please, Amber, not nettles!' I begged as she tugged the final knot into place at my bound wrists.

‘Nettles?' she asked and I heard Vicky laugh. ‘Who said anything about nettles?'

‘But . . .' I began.

‘Slut,' she replied, slapping my bottom. ‘I suppose that's what I'd have got if it had been me?'

I held my peace, hoping that some day I'd have her just as helpless and that, when I did, there would be some nettles handy to use on her plump rear-end. All three of them were behind me and I could only see part of Vicky's leg. I stayed still and passive, feeling the cool air between my legs and the gentle touch of my skirt moving against my skin in the gentle breeze. Some subtle change alerted me to someone taking hold of the hem and then my skirt was hoisted rudely up over my bottom and tucked into my belt. I felt a lump rise in my throat and knew I was blushing furiously. They had to be able to see every detail of my pussy, probably even my bumhole as well. I could feel Anderson's eyes drinking in every detail, memorising every little pink fold and crevice of my sex. I must have let out a sob, because Amber came round to speak to me. For the second time, I considered backing out, then thought of all the times I had fantasised about being in just such a position and stuck my tongue out at her instead.

I was still puzzled as to my fate and watched from the corner of my eye as Amber climbed on to Anderson's shoulders so that she could reach one of the spiky pine tree branches that overhung the field. She took something red from her pocket and hung it on a branch. It was the red knickers she had made me wear. As I watched, I felt a gentle pressure on my bottom, moving in patterns, and realised that Vicky was writing something across my bum-cheeks.

‘Lonely here, isn't it, Penny, sweetheart?' Amber asked mockingly. ‘In fact, it might be quite a while before anyone found you by accident. On the other hand, your tarty scarlet knickers make a signal that can be seen for miles. Now, my bet is that someone will see them and come to investigate. And when they do, what will they find? They'll find you all tied and with everything showing and ‘Fuck me please' written across your seat in lipstick.

‘Of course, nobody might come, in which case we'll come back and untie you after lunch, or maybe tea-time, and you'll have been spared even the shame of being seen like this. More likely, it'll be an elderly lady out walking her dogs, or maybe the vicar and you'll get all the shame you can handle but your poor little pussy will miss out on her helping of cock. Personally, I hope it's six or seven strapping farm lads and they take it in turns with you, but we'll see. This is your last chance to back out. No? Well, then, see you later.'

She gave my bum a parting slap before climbing the stile. Vicky kissed me while Anderson let a hand stray briefly between my legs, loitering for an instant at the mouth of my vagina as if to hint at what was to come. I watched them walk off down the path, chatting idly about this and that and not even bothering to turn to look at me. From the instant the last blue flash of Vicky's jeans vanished between the trees, I felt utterly alone and utterly vulnerable. Most of all, I wished my bottom wasn't flaunted quite so blatantly. In some ways, I hoped I was found by somebody who would want to fuck me, or at least appreciate the view. I knew my pussy was wet and ready and nothing could be worse than being found by some frightfully respectable old lady. The thought brought the blood to my cheeks again and I wriggled in my bonds, at least hoping to make the skirt fall and cover my bottom. Unfortunately, Amber had done a thorough job and it was as much as I could do to move, let alone release the knot that she had made with the tail of my skirt to hold it in place under my belt. I tried not to make too much of a display of my struggles, because inevitably they would be watching and I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me wriggle.

Kneeling helplessly in my obscene position, I was acutely aware of every little sound around me, constantly expecting footsteps behind me or to see somebody appear round the corner of the footpath in front. By twisting my neck round, I could just make out the scarlet panties where they hung, marking me for use by anybody with the curiosity to investigate. I quickly lost all track of time, and had no idea if a few minutes or perhaps an hour had passed when I became aware that I wasn't alone any more. I had heard nothing and could see nothing, my skirt and various bits of stile obscuring the view behind me. Since they had left me, the only sound had been birdsong. Possibly it had changed in volume or tone, or possibly something more subtle had changed. In any case, someone was behind me, I was sure of it. They said nothing, yet I knew that they would be staring at my nakedness, feeling either revulsion or delight at the sight of my open pink pussy and the invitation to fill it that Vicky had written across my buttocks.

Then there was a sound, a brushing noise like a foot being moved in long grass. A lump rose in my throat and I began to tremble, biting my lower lip as my breathing began to come faster. Suddenly something moist touched the skin of my thigh, inches from my sex. I gasped and jumped. Someone was tracing a slow pattern up my leg with their tongue. My exclamation made them stop and there was an agonising moment of suspense while I waited. Their face was so close to me that I could feel warm breath against my pussy-lips and expected the tongue to start again, or maybe a finger to begin exploring and probing me. It was more than I could do not to squirm in my bonds as I waited for it, certain that they would want to explore my bottom-hole as well as my vagina, expecting the tight little ring to be teased open and a rough finger to be poked up me. If they did, then there was nothing I could do about it, not even if they chose to have full anal sex with me.

Nothing happened, though; the tension building inside me with the expectation. Every moment was stretched out. I wanted to scream in frustration at their silence and lack of response. The stile creaked faintly under a shift of weight and I tensed, expecting to have my pussy tongued or filled with cock at any second. Again, nothing happened; only a curious shuffling noise and a quiet grunt.

‘Fuck me then, damn you!' I screamed, my nerve finally breaking. ‘Just put it in, you bastard!'

There was no response. I wondered if it might not just be my friends tormenting me, when, without the slightest warning, he mounted me. One moment there was nothing, then my vagina was full of cock and his coarse pubes were rubbing against the tender skin between my bottomcheeks. He took off at a frantic pace, thrusting deep into me, his breath coming in strange little gasps. I couldn't help moaning yet found myself cursing him for the way he was using me in between my gasps and pants. Some of his weight was on my back and I could feel the coarse wool of his clothing against the skin of my bottom and thighs.

It was over in an instant. One moment he was pumping like a madman, then he had withdrawn and something warm and damp was trickling down between my pussy-lips. He didn't say a word but just left me sobbing in helpless frustration, feeling utterly soiled but desperately needing my own orgasm.

‘Bring me off, please!' I begged, ashamed of myself even as I said it.

He gave a little sound, more of a noncommittal grunt than a laugh, then nothing and I realised that he had left as casually as he had arrived.

‘Damn you! Bastard! Inconsiderate sod!' I screamed.

There was no answer.

‘Amber!' I called.

She didn't answer, either.

‘Come on, Amber,' I pleaded, ‘I know you're watching. I've been had now, so please untie me. Amber?'

My tone turned to pleading but there was still no response and I realised that, for some reason, they really weren't there. A wave of panic threatened to engulf me; then I heard a voice and, to my utter relief, saw Vicky coming around the corner.

‘Sorry, Penny,' she began, her fingers going to the knots at my wrists. ‘We met old Mrs Greenaway from the post office halfway back and only just managed to stop her coming here! We only meant to leave you a little while and then Amber was going to come up behind you, pretend to be someone else and fuck you with the strap-on . . .'

She had climbed on the stile to get a better view of my bonds, and coincidentally of my pussy. When she stopped talking so suddenly, I knew exactly what she was looking at. I hung my head as an intense flush of humiliation went through me.

‘Hey!' she exclaimed, ‘You've been . . .'

‘Yeah,' I replied, ‘used by some bastard who didn't even stop to say thank you. Please tell me it was Anderson.'

‘No, Anderson was with us.'

I sighed, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions but sure of one thing. I had to come, and I had to come tied up over that stile with my bare arse in the air and my knickers dangling from the branch. Vicky was still stammering apologies and expressions of horrified amazement.

‘Vicky,' I said. ‘Shut up. Thank you. Now go down on my pussy and don't stop licking until I say you can.'

She stopped working at the knots. For a moment I thought she was going to turn me down, then the stile creaked as she shifted into a more comfortable position and I felt the soft, gentle touch of her tongue-tip on my clit.

15

Dairy Time

The main benefit of academic life is the intellectual reward. Next to that comes the holidays. After a year in my lectureship, I was badly in need of a break, and was greatly looking forward to the summer. Best of all, I would be staying with Amber Oakley, and while my sex life had perked up from the doldrums of my first two terms, it was not what it might be. I hadn't seen Amber at all since Easter and, as I drove south, my thoughts were fixed on the pleasures of licking pussy, cuddling boobs, girly spankings and all the clever, subtle and, above all, dirty things she liked me to do.