painfully tight behind my back. I’d admit to being spanked by Magnus, only to have my bottom cheeks pulled apart and my anus inspected too, after which I’d have to admit to anal sex as well. They’d laugh at me, spank me, stick a marker pen up my bottom and another in my cunt, at which I’d lose control and end up masturbating in front of them, spread out on the floor as I came over my own humiliation.
‘Miss Salisbury? Lucinda?’
It was Stacey. I spun around, dropping the cup of coffee I’d been pouring for myself down the front of my skirt and all over the carpet. She gave me a surprised look and immediately bent down to help clear up the mess I’d made as I turned to the sink to try to do something about my skirt and to hide my blushes, apologising out of sheer habit. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I was, er … daydreaming.’
‘Never mind, at least you can go upstairs to change your skirt. Look, Miss Salisbury … Lucinda, I want to say sorry myself. We went too far last Saturday, and it’s really sweet of you not to take any action over what happened.’
She was holding out a memo, which I took. It was a formal warning about her behaviour, from Mr Scott himself, with an additional note to the effect that had it not been for my intervention she’d have been risking dismissal.
I smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s nothing, really. I probably deserved it.’
‘No, you didn’t. You were just trying to win, which is what it’s supposed to be all about, isn’t it? And it’s not as if you owe us any favours. Friends?’
I found myself smiling stupidly as a great weight of stress I’d never really known was there began to drain away. She was holding her arms open and I went forward, to let her hug me and to return the hug. I could feel the strength of her arms and the size of her full firm breasts as they pushed against my own, so quickly kissed her and pulled away in case she somehow realised my instinctive reaction. Now she was smiling as she threw a quick glance towards the door, then pulled up the hem of her skirt.
‘Look at this. That’s from when they charged the flag. Mike Baker got me, after I’d got him, but the referee didn’t take any notice at all! Then I got disqualified for tripping him up, but that was when we heard the horn go. You were brilliant!’
She was showing me a rounded bruise, much like the ones on my bottom and legs, but on her inner thigh, well above her knee.
Now I couldn’t help smiling, although I very definitely was not going to start comparing bruises. I lied instead. ‘I’m not too bad, actually. None of you got me from all that close to and I had thick undies on.’
‘With yellow ducks on. We saw. Look, some of us are going for a drink tonight, would you like to come?’
***
I couldn’t refuse, and I couldn’t help but imagine that it was some sort of trick, which made for a classic fantasy. They’d take me to some perfectly ordinary pub or bar, where I wouldn’t be suspicious, get me drunk and then take me somewhere quiet to deal with me. I’d be stripped naked, my panties stuffed into my mouth to shut me up, tied up with my own stockings, my hands strapped tight behind my back and my ankles lashed together. It would all be on cameraphone, every awful detail as I was put across Stacey’s knee and spanked until I was in danger of swallowing my panties in my pain and humiliation. Only when they’d got my bottom red and rosy would they let me up, by which time I’d be in a state of helpless arousal, allowing them to make me their plaything as I knelt naked on the dirty ground, licking eagerly at their pussies and between the cheeks of their bottoms. They’d film me as I kissed Stacey’s anus, before spreading me out on the cobbles so that she could sit on my face to get her orgasm while I masturbated in front of them.
Of course, it was nothing like that, as I knew perfectly well it wouldn’t be, just friendly banter over a few bottles of
‘Miss Salisbury? Lucinda?’
It was Stacey. I spun around, dropping the cup of coffee I’d been pouring for myself down the front of my skirt and all over the carpet. She gave me a surprised look and immediately bent down to help clear up the mess I’d made as I turned to the sink to try to do something about my skirt and to hide my blushes, apologising out of sheer habit. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I was, er … daydreaming.’
‘Never mind, at least you can go upstairs to change your skirt. Look, Miss Salisbury … Lucinda, I want to say sorry myself. We went too far last Saturday, and it’s really sweet of you not to take any action over what happened.’
She was holding out a memo, which I took. It was a formal warning about her behaviour, from Mr Scott himself, with an additional note to the effect that had it not been for my intervention she’d have been risking dismissal.
I smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s nothing, really. I probably deserved it.’
‘No, you didn’t. You were just trying to win, which is what it’s supposed to be all about, isn’t it? And it’s not as if you owe us any favours. Friends?’
I found myself smiling stupidly as a great weight of stress I’d never really known was there began to drain away. She was holding her arms open and I went forward, to let her hug me and to return the hug. I could feel the strength of her arms and the size of her full firm breasts as they pushed against my own, so quickly kissed her and pulled away in case she somehow realised my instinctive reaction. Now she was smiling as she threw a quick glance towards the door, then pulled up the hem of her skirt.
‘Look at this. That’s from when they charged the flag. Mike Baker got me, after I’d got him, but the referee didn’t take any notice at all! Then I got disqualified for tripping him up, but that was when we heard the horn go. You were brilliant!’
She was showing me a rounded bruise, much like the ones on my bottom and legs, but on her inner thigh, well above her knee.
Now I couldn’t help smiling, although I very definitely was not going to start comparing bruises. I lied instead. ‘I’m not too bad, actually. None of you got me from all that close to and I had thick undies on.’
‘With yellow ducks on. We saw. Look, some of us are going for a drink tonight, would you like to come?’
***
I couldn’t refuse, and I couldn’t help but imagine that it was some sort of trick, which made for a classic fantasy. They’d take me to some perfectly ordinary pub or bar, where I wouldn’t be suspicious, get me drunk and then take me somewhere quiet to deal with me. I’d be stripped naked, my panties stuffed into my mouth to shut me up, tied up with my own stockings, my hands strapped tight behind my back and my ankles lashed together. It would all be on cameraphone, every awful detail as I was put across Stacey’s knee and spanked until I was in danger of swallowing my panties in my pain and humiliation. Only when they’d got my bottom red and rosy would they let me up, by which time I’d be in a state of helpless arousal, allowing them to make me their plaything as I knelt naked on the dirty ground, licking eagerly at their pussies and between the cheeks of their bottoms. They’d film me as I kissed Stacey’s anus, before spreading me out on the cobbles so that she could sit on my face to get her orgasm while I masturbated in front of them.
Of course, it was nothing like that, as I knew perfectly well it wouldn’t be, just friendly banter over a few bottles of
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