Bad Penny (4 page)

‘Not on the bare bottom, Auntie Elaine, please!' I appealed.

‘Stop mewling,' she snapped, and put her hand to the waistband of my panties. ‘Why should I leave your pants up?'

‘Because it's humiliating to have a bare bottom!' I protested.

‘All the more reason they should come down, then,' she answered and started to do it.

I watched in horror as my aunt pulled down my knickers. So many times I had imagined this scene. Me bent over someone's lap, my panties on show while they lectured me, then my panties being taken down, slowly, to make me really feel the indignity of having my bum bared for punishment. Now it was for real, and it was ten times more humiliating than I could ever have imagined, especially when it was my aunt who was doing it.

She settled my panties around my thighs, leaving my bottom looking pink and vulnerable in the mirror. I could see both cheeks, looking pouted and chubby because of the way my bottom was thrust up. A little puff of black hair was visible, poking out from between my thighs, and I knew that to her the rear of my pussy, and worse, my anus, would be on show.

‘I hope you feel ashamed of yourself,' she said, raising her hand over my unprotected bum.

I did, but I only managed a whimper in response, then her hand came down, planting a stinging slap on my naked cheeks. I squeaked and kicked, only to have my arm twisted more tightly still into my back even as the second smack fell. I saw my bottom bounce in the mirror, the flesh wobbling under the impact of the slap, then again, and again. I made no effort to restrain myself, but kicked and squealed and mewled as the merciless slaps rained down on my bottom. I was tossing my head from side to side as well, not just from the pain but to try and get rid of the feelings that were building up inside me. I shut my eyes to get rid of the appalling sight of myself being spanked across my aunt's lap, but it was no good – it was arousing, desperately arousing.

It also hurt, and only when I started to sob did she finally push me off her lap. I mumbled an apology, but she simply stormed from the room, leaving me red-bottomed and blubbering on the floor. Only when I heard the back door slam below me did I have the sense to get up and cover myself, stroking my burning behind before I pulled my knickers up. When my dress had fallen back into place and I had returned my left breast to my bodice, I began to calm down.

I went to the window, squeezing my bottom through my dress, still snivelling a little and feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. Outside, Elaine was walking purposefully down the garden, only to slow and take a glass of champagne from a waiter. She was obviously not going straight to my mother, at least not yet. Remembering the bottle Kate had had, I turned to find it, draining the last few inches straight into my mouth.

My head was spinning, and not just from the drink. I had really been put through it, coaxed into sucking cock, almost fucked, and with my head down a toilet! Then I'd been spanked, spanked like a naughty little girl without a thought for my modesty, spanked with my bottom bare and my mouth full of sperm.

A shiver went right through me. I had never yet reached a climax, yet my pussy had never felt so swollen and wet, nor my nipples so stiff. I badly wanted to try and come, and was sure I could, if only I could find somewhere private to concentrate.

I couldn't help a little smile as I realised that, actually, I had the perfect opportunity. I'd just been spanked, and left on the floor in tears with my bum bare and red. I knew my aunt. Once her initial fury had subsided, she would feel sorry for punishing me. With luck she would keep it to herself, and she would certainly leave me some time to compose myself and dry my tears. She'd expect me to run up to my room in a tantrum and not come down until I was ready. Only if my absence became prolonged would she come and investigate.

Sure that I had at least half an hour of peace, I made my way quickly up the stairs, feeling both guilty and naughty. I knew that playing with myself over the thought of being spanked by my aunt was a shocking thing to do, but I just couldn't help it.

Inside the room I quickly locked the door behind me. I stood with my back to the mirror and lifted my dress and petticoats with trembling fingers. As my panties came on show, I stuck my bottom out, stretching the pink cotton taut across my bulging cheeks. Reddened flesh showed around the frilly leg-holes, evidence that I had been spanked. Breathing hard, I pulled them up tight between my cheeks, so my bottom spilt out to either side, red and sore. The flesh was covered in little goose-pimples, with the flush of punishment deepest where my cheeks turn down to my thighs. I'm only a size eight, and my waist is twenty inches or so, yet I've always felt that in comparison my bottom is embarrassingly fat. It certainly looked it then, the red cheeks plump and meaty. I'd been spanked well, even my thighs showing some red patches.

Holding my panties up tight felt lovely, with the cotton pulled hard against my wet pussy. I wanted to see more, though, and so began to peel them down, knowing that the rude display I was giving was just what my aunt had seen. With my knickers at the level of my stocking tops, I was completely exposed. The rear of my pussy showed, the lips pouted and furry, the centre pink and wet with my juice. I was so wet that it was dribbling down my thighs, while my vagina looked as if it could have taken Toby's cock with ease.

I wished it had, and wondered if there wasn't something I could substitute for it while I masturbated. My hairbrush handle was a possibility, but above my pussy my anus was showing, a puckered brown hole in a nest of hair, tempting me.

I couldn't help it. I popped my finger into my mouth and sucked it, then, reaching behind me, I put the digit to my bottom-hole and eased it in. It was slimy with my pussy-juice, and my finger went in easily, first to one joint, then to another. Feeling utterly filthy, I watched myself finger my bottom, my pleasure rising with the rude, wet feeling.

Moving forward, I bent over the bed, craning to see over my shoulder as I spread my thighs. My bottom was framed in a froth of material: pink dress, white petticoats, pink panties, white stockings. The freshly spanked cheeks showed red and sore, my hairy pussy and bottom-crease open between them, my vagina wet and ready, my anus with a finger stuck obscenely up it.

Stretching, I managed to reach my hairbrush, then watched as I slid it up my pussy. It went in easily and I started to pump at both holes, quickly making myself breathless with pleasure. Reaching out again, I got hold of my toothbrush and substituted it for the finger in my bottom. Everything showed in the mirror, and I looked so rude: well-smacked bum stuck out, panties down and both my holes full.

I clenched my muscles to keep the probes inside me and put my hand back between my legs. Two fingers spread my pussy open, revealing my clit and making my rear view even ruder. I started to rub, my eyes intent on the mirror. I tried to think of how it would have felt to have Toby's cock in my vagina instead of a hairbrush, but couldn't focus. Instead my thoughts drifted to how my punishment could have been made worse. I could have had things pushed up my pussy and bum for a start, after I'd been thoroughly spanked. I could have been made to strip too, and kneel while I was lectured, with perhaps a narrow shampoo bottle in my vagina. Kate had some that were just right, and I was sure that that was what she used them for. My anus would be harder to fill comfortably, but there had been a vase of flowers on the windowsill, pretty meadow-blossoms. Having a big daisy protruding from my bumhole would have really taught me my place. I could have had my face pushed in the toilet as well, preferably after I'd peed in it . . .

That was too much. I felt the muscles of my vagina and anus start to spasm around their loads; my pussy was on fire and I thought for a moment that I was going to wet myself. I screamed, knowing I was coming and amazed by just how good it was. Again and again it hit me, the toothbrush squeezing out of my anus with the contractions while I pumped at myself with the hairbrush. I know I screamed out loud, and called Kate's name, because at the end it had been her I was imagining tormenting me and not her mother.

Finally it subsided and I sank to the floor in a sweaty, juice-smeared mess. My pussy and anus felt sore and I was incredibly ashamed of myself for being so dirty, yet I had come – and if that was what it felt like and if being dirty was what it took to get there, then I knew I wouldn't be a good girl for long.

3

Chocolate Surprise

When I went up to university, everything changed. Well, almost everything. Most importantly, I found myself in an environment where intelligence was actually respected. At school I had been nicknamed ‘Little Miss Smarty-Pants' and, while my teachers had been impressed, my fellow pupils had regarded me as an impossible swot. At university I was among equals – well, actually, I was still better than most and, by the end of my first term, my tutors were already suggesting that an academic career might be an idea. Socially, things were also looking up. I had no shortage of friends and was never short of something to do.

My room was in the Kennet Building, a large student hall. The warden was the ageing and amiable Professor Ruskin, a noted archaeologist and a man so far removed from the real world that it seemed extraordinary to me that he had been put in charge of over two hundred first-year students. We came and went when we pleased, ate what we pleased and slept with whoever we pleased.

Only I didn't. The one thing that hadn't changed was my sex life. I got plenty of offers but, as always, not from the men who attracted me. An evening at the model railway club followed by a clumsy grope in a doorway was not my idea of fun, and there were plenty of gorgeous, boisterous, extrovert girls to take up the attentions of all the big, rough, masculine types who I fancied. My needs had also become stronger, more focused and harder to satisfy. Ever since nearly losing my virginity to Toby and getting an impromptu spanking from my aunt, my need for punishment and sexual humiliation had grown. I didn't just want rough sex, but to be tied and beaten first.

Unfortunately such pleasures seemed impossible to get. On one of the rare occasions I accepted a date and actually felt turned on at the end, I asked the man to turn me over his knee and spank me, only to be told that he had too much respect for me. I'd begged, and the bastard had given me a lecture on how I should empower myself and take control of my body instead of surrendering it to men. What the arrogant, self-satisfied moron didn't understand was that I didn't want to take control. I wanted to be bullied and spanked and made to suck his cock and take rear entry. I was left with a wet pussy and a lump of cold anger in my throat.

To make matters worse, and not for the first time, many of the men I liked looked on me as a friend. They'd come in late to my room, not to shag me senseless over my desk, but to tell me how understanding I was. That would be after three hours of telling me about their difficulties with some girl, as often as not my neighbour, Tiffany Bell, an oversexed American exchange student.

Tiffany was truly gorgeous, and she knew it. She looked the classic image of an American cheerleader: big, busty, blonde and, above all, wholesome. The men absolutely drooled over her. Personally, I hated her. She had all the attributes that made Kate so attractive – looks, sex appeal and confidence – but, where Kate always worshipped her men, Tiffany expected worship. She got it, too, and used to treat her admirers like dirt.

She had no shortage of them, but there was one that she took particular pleasure in tormenting. This was Aran Ray, a big, powerfully built black guy who rowed number seven in the university boat. A biochemist, like me, he was bright by any standards, and also socially popular. I'm not at all sure why Tiffany singled him out, but it was as if she was determined to make him grovel to her just for the pleasure of denying him.

For most of the term she teased him, flirting and then pulling back, letting him think she was interested, only to go off with another man. Only after he had won his place in the boat did she take him to bed, by which time he must have been fit to burst. Being next door, I had to listen to them shagging. I could make out some of the things they said, as well: not clearly, but well enough to drive me to distraction. I had been trying to write an essay, but ended up with my skirt up and my hand down my panties as I masturbated over the thought of what they were doing. After a mediocre orgasm, I felt distinctly lonely and left out, falling asleep while they were still at it.

The following evening, I was sitting alone with a cup of coffee when I heard someone knock at her door. I sighed, resigning myself to another disturbed night, and wondering if I would be able to resist playing with myself while he humped her. She answered her door, and I heard her voice quite clearly in the passage. Rather than enthusiastic and sexy, which was her normal tone, she sounded surprised and rather annoyed.

‘What's the matter?' he asked.

‘Just leave, OK?' she answered.

‘But I thought we . . .' he said, sounding hurt.

‘I know what you thought,' she replied aggressively, ‘and I can tell you this, it's not going to happen again.'

Somebody turned a tap on and their voices became indistinct. I'd heard her give other men the same treatment, but was still a bit surprised. He was, after all, now a recognised athlete, and being his girlfriend should have carried all the prestige she wanted. Evidently she felt that turning him down after one night would make her look even more impressive. Her attitude struck me as completely unreasonable. She clearly saw sex with him as a sort of trophy, which was bad enough, yet I felt that at the least she could have rejected him politely.

‘Come on, Tiffy, it wasn't so bad,' he was pleading as their voices became distinct again.