S is for Spanking

‘Oh dear, what a little slut you are! You really like it, don’t you?’

She never had fully understood, but that made it all the more exciting when she did it, along with the faint contempt she could never quite conceal. This time she didn’t even bother to try, her voice openly mocking as she continued to spank me.

‘How can you get off on this, Lucy? I mean, seriously, to let somebody spank you, as if you’ve been a naughty little girl, and to get off on it! And all the business about having your panties pulled down and being made to go bare afterwards, with your little red bum on parade around your own fucking flat! You are such a dirty little slut, but I do love you for it, and I’ve got to say, I love doing it to you.’

I’d given in completely, my bottom stuck high to the smacks, every word she’d said burning in my mind. She was beating on my cheeks as if she was playing the bongos, another way she liked to play with my bottom, but I wanted it harder, and I wanted to come.

‘Use something on me, Stacey. Make me come.’

She gave a curt little tut, but leant across to where I’d put my hairbrush down on my bedside table, half hoping it might end up being used on my bottom. I knew I could make it, if she got the smacks just right, across the tuck of my cheeks so that every impact sent a jolt to my cunt. The very first made me cry out in mingled ecstasy and pain, because it hurt a lot more than her hand, and as she set up a firm, even rhythm across my cheeks she’d begun to talk to me once more.

‘Just look at you, Lucy. You really should be ashamed of yourself, shouldn’t you? I know you are, deep down, and that’s what really gets you off, isn’t it? But just think how much worse it could be. If only the boys in the office could know. Imagine it, Miss Lucinda Salisbury, the ice princess, the one woman who never, ever lets her guard down, and she likes her bare bottom spanked! Imagine if Daniel and Alastair and fat boy Paul were here to see you now, with your panties down and your red bum cheeks spread open to show off your little pink arsehole and your lovely wet cunt.’

I’d begun to moan, unable to hold back my excitement even as my body jerked to the hard smacks now being delivered full across the fleshy turn of my bum cheeks. My thoughts followed the scene she was painting, with the three young men watching me being punished just to add to my awful humiliation, enjoying the view of my bare, smacked tits and my wriggling bottom, my twitching bumhole and open cunt, as well as my helpless arousal and the thought of how they might take advantage.

‘They’d fuck me, Stacey. They’d push you off and fuck me.’

‘Oh no they wouldn’t, darling. They wouldn’t need to. I’d sit on your back while they did you, taking turns to make you suck their cocks hard while I spanked you, then spit roasting you, with Daniel and Alastair in your mouth and up your cunt, from behind, Lucy, with your sweet little bottom spread to show you off while he fucks you. That’s right, darling, one in each hole, and Paul would take photographs to put on the net, photographs of you getting your smacked bottom fucked while you suck cock, you filthy, darling little bitch! That’s right, Lucy, come, come while I spank you!’

As she spoke she’d been spanking all the time, harder and harder, until I finally hit my peak, screaming out in ecstasy as my body locked in orgasm. She let me finish, just, before tossing the hairbrush aside and lifting her bottom to let me twist around beneath her. I knew what was coming, still in breathless ecstasy as she pushed down her jeans and straddled me once more, squatting over my face with her cunt against my mouth as she spoke again.

‘You’re right, Lucy, I do know my place, sat on top of you with my pussy in your face. Now get licking!’

* * *

Once she was done, Stacey and I got into bed, meaning to cuddle for a little before going out to explore the area. Drowsy with sex and the warm, spring air, we were soon asleep and didn’t wake up until nearly six. We showered together, slipped on light dresses we’d both brought in the hope of relatively civilised evenings and went downstairs to eat. The Plough was a typical old-fashioned country pub, with a large public bar and a saloon that doubled up as the restaurant. We chose an alcove where a window opened out through one of the immensely thick walls, allowing us to sit in comfort and privacy while watching what was going on around us. Part of the public bar was visible through an open door, and as we sat sipping wine and waiting for our food we’d both begun to study the locals. Stacey knew my tastes and couldn’t resist teasing.

‘Which one for you then? How about the one who looks like a lumberjack boss?’

‘Stacey! If you mean the man in the red shirt, he has to be sixty, at least.’

‘So what? He’s big, he’s rough, and just look at his hands.’

I couldn’t help but do it, my eyes going straight to where Stacey had indicated. He’d just lifted his pint of beer, and I had to admit that she had a point. His hands were huge, his skin rough and dark from the sun and the wind, his fingers at least twice as thick as my own. If he’d been holding me, each hand could have cupped most of my bottom, and I immediately found myself imagining how it would feel to be across his knee, which sent the blood rushing to my face. Stacey laughed for how easily she’d got to me and tried again.

‘Or how about Redbeard the Pirate over there, at the table next to the bar? He must be six foot six, and he looks just the sort to carry you off over his shoulder and do unspeakable things to you in the bushes.’

She knew full well it was one of my favourite fantasies, while the man also looked quite like my boyfriend, Magnus, back in London, so I stuck my tongue out at her and tried to get her back.

‘How about you then? Maybe the old boy drinking red wine, the military type. He’d soon have you doing drill, and when you messed up …’

She knew what I was implying, as she was from an army family, and her mouth came open in shock as the blood went to her face in turn.

‘Lucy, you are the limit! Anyway, I don’t go for older men, unlike you. There’s only one man I’d even consider, Mr Blue at the far end of the bar.’

It was obvious who she meant. He was a little over six foot tall, with a pale-blue top that showed every detail of a superbly muscled torso, baggy white tracksuit bottoms that nevertheless hinted at an intriguingly large bulge in his crotch, and obviously expensive trainers. I couldn’t really deny that he was attractive, but while he undoubtedly radiated confidence, even arrogance, he seemed to me to lack the charm a man like that needs in order to appeal to me. There was something else too, perhaps in the way he held himself, maybe simply the way he was dressed, or something less easily defined.

‘He’s gay.’

‘What, because he’s showing off his muscles? He’s probably been running.’

‘Why isn’t he sweating then?’

‘OK, so he’s about to go for a run.’

At that moment the man turned in our direction too suddenly to allow us to hide our rather obvious attention. I found myself blushing again, but Stacey merely smiled, far better able to handle the situation than I was. Fortunately we were saved by the landlord, who’d just asked Mr Blue a question, and the arrival of our food. Nevertheless, I was feeling a little uneasy as we settled down to eat, and all the more so when I was obliged to make a trip to the loo and found his eyes following me all the way and all the way back. Stacey was merely amused, and a little excited.

‘He’s not gay then, is he? His eyes were glued to your arse, not that I blame him, if you must wiggle like that, you little show off.’

‘I wasn’t wiggling! What if he makes a pass at me?’

‘Turn him down. Maybe he’ll try me instead.’

‘Stacey, you wouldn’t! You’re supposed to be with me, at least while we’re away together.’

‘That’s OK, you can watch. Or maybe I’ll spank you in front of him to get things going. I bet he’d love that, right after you’d turned him down.’

‘Stacey!’

‘I’m only joking, silly. He is nice, but like you say, we’re together. Besides, if he approached you first I’d hardly take him up on an offer later, would I? I do have some pride. Shall I get another bottle?’

‘Yes, why not?’

The man continued to watch us as we drank our wine, sometimes from the corner of his eyes, sometimes openly. Stacey had grown bored with the game and ignored him, but it was harder for me because of where I was sitting; I found it impossible not to glance in his direction from time to time. He noticed and his interest increased, making me ever more flustered and less able to look away. I was sure he was going to come over to us at any moment, and wasn’t at all looking forward to the embarrassment of having to turn him down. Finally Stacey got fed up with my behaviour.

‘Look, Lucy, if you want to go three in a bed that’s fine, but either go and invite him over or stop flirting with him.’

‘I’m not flirting with him!’

‘Yes you are, and you know it. OK, I’ll go and talk to him then.’

She’d already half risen and I quickly reached out to put my hand over hers and stop her, although I was no longer sure what I wanted. The wine we’d drunk had started to get to me, and he did have a very fine body, while Stacey’s threat to spank me in front of him had triggered one of my favourite fantasies, punishment in front of a man who then got to do as he pleased with my body, which would be more humiliating by far if I’d turned him down earlier. He’d seen it too, and now he knew that something was up, bringing my feelings of shame and uncertainty up further still. Stacey spoke as she sat down again.

‘You go then. Look, he’s looking right at you.’

He was, leaning against the bar with his drink in one hand, watching us with open admiration. I imagined his amusement as I was turned over Stacey’s knee in front of him, and how he’d be thinking what a little pervert I was to get off on being spanked by my friend even as his cock started to grow to the sight of my rear view being exposed. Or maybe he’d want to do me too, and once I’d been reduced to a red-bottomed, tear-stained mess he’d certainly want me to take his cock in my mouth and complete my humiliation by sucking him off. I could do it too, if I just had a few minutes of easy, friendly conversation to let me know that whatever his reaction to my sexuality he genuinely thought of me as more than just a sexy body with a set of conveniently wet holes to stick his erection into.

‘OK, I’ll do it.’

I got up, less than perfectly steady on my feet and feeling very insecure indeed. He saw and gave me a grin that was pure, arrogant self-assurance, to which I returned a nervous smile. I reached the bar and he said something I didn’t catch as the landlady spoke to me, asking if Stacey and I would like any dessert. The moment was broken, and once I’d politely refused and she’d moved away I found myself standing next to him at the bar, completely lost. He wasn’t, moving close and putting one strong hand on the small of my back as he spoke.

‘Hey, Blondie, how about I slip eight inches of rock-hard dick up your sweet little cunt?’

As he spoke his hand had strayed down to the turn of my bottom. It was far too much, far too soon. Before I really knew what I was doing I’d swung around, to plant a slap full across his face, hard enough to knock him back and leave a livid handprint on his flesh. For one awful moment I thought he was going to hit me back, but he got himself under control just as the landlord returned to the bar, while three men at the nearest table had half risen from their seats. There was a brief, aggressive exchange of words, which I barely took in save that the other four males all seemed keen to take my side. Then Mr Blue had swallowed his drink at a gulp and walked out even as the landlord told him he was barred, which left me trying to assure four men and Stacey that everything was alright.

It wasn’t. I felt guilty, both for the way I’d reacted, which wasn’t really fair, and for the way everybody else had turned on Mr Blue. Stacey and I had been flirting, and even if he’d overstepped the mark he hadn’t deserved his face slapped and the very public humiliation of being thrown out of the pub. I wanted to apologise, and I felt drunk and off balance too, so pretended I was in need of a trip to the Ladies and then slipped outside. It was dark, with a single yellow light illuminating a double line of cars and trees showing black against a starry sky beyond. There was no sign of Mr Blue, save possibly a pair of red tail lights moving away down the lane, but the fresh air was very welcome indeed.

I walked to the end of the car park, where an ancient and wheel-less Volkswagen camper van had been left to rust beside the hedge. It gave me the shelter I felt I needed and I propped myself against it, drinking in the cool, clean air in an effort to clear my head, only to jump at the sound of approaching footsteps.

‘You OK, love?’

‘Yes, really …’

It was Redbeard the Pirate, who’d been among the men keen to take my side. We spoke for a moment, and there was no mistaking his desire for me. I half wanted to give in, but couldn’t overcome my own ill feelings for what had just happened until he put an arm around my shoulder, an arm like a tree trunk. I stiffened automatically, but only for an instant before I’d allowed myself to be gathered in against his chest. He began to talk, in a rumbling bass, attempting to comfort me with clumsy words that I barely heard. Yet I couldn’t help but react to his touch, my body trembling badly, and it was just too easy to accept the comfort of his arms.

I could feel a hard bulge swelling against my belly even as he assured me there was nothing to worry about. Had he simply taken me then and there I wouldn’t have resisted. My defences were down and I was drunk and horny, as well as feeling guilty for being a tease, and he was so very obviously turned on. Yet I knew that it would have to be me who made the first open move. I didn’t say a word as I slid his zip open, nor as I went down on my knees to pull out his cock, straight into my mouth. He reacted with a low moan, but accepted his tribute, letting me suck as he leant back against the side of the camper van. The feel of his cock in my mouth was more comforting than anything, at first, but as he began to stiffen up I was getting increasingly eager. My hand went up my dress and down the front of my panties as I began to masturbate him into my mouth.

His hand settled on the back of my head, to take me gently but firmly by the hair, holding me in place. I had no intention of stopping, but it felt nice, a big, strong male hand to make sure I gave my blow job properly. He’d already begun to groan, and I began to rub harder, my fingers bumping over my clitoris as I sucked and licked and kissed at his straining erection, trying to be a good girl for him but determined to keep him back from the edge until I too was ready to come. Only when I felt my cunt begin to tighten did I take him deep in once more, as far as I could, deliberately squashing his helmet into my throat to make myself gag, a gloriously dirty thing to do and one with inevitable consequences. I felt his grip tighten in my hair and he gave an urgent grunt, jamming his cock yet deeper into my throat as he came. Spunk erupted into my gullet and I was struggling to swallow and delighting in my own filthy behaviour as I brought myself to a long, hard orgasm with my mouth still full of come and thick, hard cock.

Chapter Two

I was glad to leave The Plough the following morning, as the entire incident was acutely embarrassing and not in a good way, although I did have Redbeard’s number tucked into my back pocket. Stacey agreed, and we settled up as soon as we’d finished our breakfast and called a cab. The driver had never heard of Camp Aspiration, but we finally managed to work out that it was what he called the old airfield, which didn’t sound particularly promising. It didn’t look it either, to judge by the high chain-link fence running through dense pine woods, or the ancient gate, complete with rusting red- and white-striped barrier and sentry box, outside which our own company minibus was just pulling up. They stopped and Daniel climbed down from the rear doors as Stacey and I got out of the cab. Beyond the gate a stretch of eroded tarmac ran between a pair of massive concrete blocks. A group of shabby wooden huts was visible in the distance and I found myself grimacing in distaste as I turned to the others.

‘Are you sure this is the right place? It looks pretty primitive.’

Daniel pointed to a new and brightly painted sign which had been hidden by the minibus, stating that we’d reached ‘Camp Aspiration, Management Training Centre’.

‘It’s supposed to be primitive. They’re big on self-reliance.’

He flexed his muscles and drew in a deep breath of air, then strode to the barrier and pushed down on the counterweight. Nothing happened, but he pushed harder and it finally rose with a rusty groan. I shared a despairing look with Stacey before we threw our bags into the back of the minibus and climbed in behind. Alastair was driving, with Paul slumped across a triple seat, fast asleep with his hands closed over his ample stomach.

We drove in, with Daniel jogging alongside us, between the double line of huts to a crossroads with larger buildings to either side. Some were obviously disused, others freshly painted in a dull, dark green with white numbers or lettering that appeared to have been applied with a stencil, and suggested exactly the sort of pseudo-military attitude I’d been dreading. There was even an assault course, visible among the trees to one side, which looked as if it included water, mud and hair-raising apparatus. I hid a sigh as I climbed down to the ground, but the others seemed full of enthusiasm, except for Paul, who was still asleep. Alastair gave him a shove.

‘Wake up, Porkchop, you’re showing us up.’

Another group had emerged from one of the buildings, grinning as they approached us. We exchanged greetings, all doing our best to show how energetic and confident we were. Paul hauled himself upright and tumbled out of the minibus to look around with an expression of open horror.

‘What the fuck is this?’

One of the other group answered him, a tall, slim man with square shoulders, a crew cut and sunglasses.

‘Camp Aspiration. Hi, I’m Chad.’

His accent was pure Midwest American and he’d extended a hand as he spoke. Paul ignored the offer, blinking in the bright sunlight.

‘I’m in fucking Alabama.’

I’d shaken Chad’s hand myself so as not to give offence, but I could see he was less than impressed by Paul’s attitude. He carried on anyway.

‘Good to see you guys. We were the first here and there are two more groups to come, fifteen people in all, according to the roster. We’re going to be in four competitive groups, eleven guys and four gals. That’s Mess, the big hangar’s Assembly and the gym, we bunk as teams in the huts.’

He’d been pointing to various buildings as he spoke, each of which was clearly labelled, as was a shower block and a general office, while another bore a large and rather worrying red cross. Paul spoke up.

‘Where’s the bar?’

Chad answered him with open disapproval.

‘No bar. No alcohol.’

Paul sat back heavily on the floor of the minibus, looking more horrified than ever. I found myself sympathising with him, and very glad indeed that I had Stacey’s company. Not that the others were entirely unappealing, at least to look at, but all the men seemed to have the same air of forced confidence I’d disliked in Mr Blue. Another minibus was approaching down the entrance road and I turned to greet the newcomers, three men and a woman with striking red hair. Chad seemed to have appointed himself group spokesman and did most of the introductions, which gave me a chance to wander off and look at the assault course.

It was every bit as unappetising as I’d expected, with massive walls and complicated obstacles built of old railway sleepers, wires stretched between trees at dizzying heights, great nets made of rope and several deep pits filled with water and glutinous reddish-brown mud. Just to look at it made me feel cold, and scared, for all that I knew I could do it easily enough and possibly even without getting completely filthy. That at least I had school to thank for, while I’d also have Stacey with me, who’d been brought up on far worse.

Nobody was paying any attention to me, so I moved deeper into the woods and around to the rear of the buildings. Those furthest from the centre of the camp were clearly abandoned, including concrete pillboxes long overgrown and surrounded by trees, shelters half hidden beneath the ground and the huts themselves. I decided to investigate the one nearest the gate, numbered as twenty-six, but in faded yellow paint rather than a smart new stencil. After pushing the door open with some difficulty I found myself in a long, arched room with a row of double bunks to either side. The windows were green with algae and had several broken panes, which had allowed a scattered drift of pine needles to build up on the bare, concrete floor, but it was still easy to imagine it in use. With six of the double bunks to either side there would have been twenty-four men, young, fit men.

I let my mind wander, imagining myself as a local girl brought back to camp, drunk and happy and excited by so much male company. They’d have been nice boys, presumably, but maybe not too nice. Before long I’d have been teased out of my clothes, or perhaps found myself obliged to go nude as the loser in a game of strip poker. With that it wouldn’t have been long before their arousal got the better of their manners and inhibitions. I’d have found myself promising kisses, at which the bolder spirits would have taken the opportunity to stroke my bottom or touch my breasts.

One of them would have got out his cock, demanding a toss, and I’d have given in, slightly frightened, not at all sure of myself, but very, very aroused. I’d do it on my knees, pulling him over my breasts, but before long I’d have been eased down to take him in my mouth. When they saw what a slut I was the last of their reserve would vanish. I’d be made to service them all, sucking cock after cock as I knelt on the hard, bare floor, or perhaps they’d spread me out on the bunk in the corner as they took turns with me, mounting me one after another until I was dizzy with sex and slippery with their spunk.

It was a nice fantasy, and I moved to the window, wondering if I dared slip down my jeans and knickers to enjoy a hurried climax. Nobody was about, but then again there was no shelter at all. Anybody who walked in would be sure to catch me, which was going to make for a highly uncomfortable fortnight with a reputation as the girl who couldn’t resist frigging herself off ten minutes after turning up. It was better to wait, but the abandoned huts certainly offered some hope of private moments with Stacey, especially if we could find any deep in among the trees.

I turned back towards the centre of the camp, but came to a stop as I saw the group. Another man had joined them, a man in loose-fitting white tracksuit bottoms and a pale-blue top that showed off his muscles. He also had a tracksuit top and a bright-red peaked cap, but there was no mistaking him. It was Mr Blue, and if that wasn’t bad enough he was carrying a clipboard and had a whistle around his neck, which seemed to suggest that he was an instructor. The blood had rushed straight to my face, but there was nothing I could do except continue walking as he led the others towards the Assembly building. I was the last there, and crowded in behind the others, to a big, square room with a wooden floor.

There were no chairs, and Chad and his friends had formed a line, so the others fell in behind, myself included. Two men stood against the end wall, both in the blue tops that seemed to denote staff, both solid and well muscled, one short and white, one tall and black. Mr Blue was busy with his clipboard and didn’t notice me as I took my place in the back row, but I knew it was only a matter of time, and not long at that, as he’d begun to call out our names.