I’d been gone from my flat for two nights, but it felt like a week. In the meantime I’d got rid of the awful Damon Maurschen and had a really extraordinary sexual experience with Gabrielle Salinger. That meant two of the biggest problems in my life sorted out, and in a very satisfactory way. Not surprisingly I was in a good mood, better still after I’d played back my answering machine messages and discovered nothing from Damon.
Most were work, but Ami had rung, to say that she and some others were getting together that evening to watch old films and generally have a girl’s night in. She obviously wanted to restore our friendship to its previous footing, and it was just the sort of relaxing evening I needed, so I decided to accept.
The last message was one from Percy, typically inefficient, with a long spiel about the quality of the vintage in Bordeaux that ended in a click as the memory ran out. He hadn’t said when he was coming back, or even if he was going to stay on and watch the sweet wine grapes come in. If so it was going to be a pain, because I was missing him, and my bottom had almost recovered from the spooning enough for one of his well-judged sessions with a school cane.
I fantasised over that in the bath, masturbating lazily as I wondered how I should dress to greet him, and how it would feel pulling down my panties for him again, to take six across my bare bottom before a leisurely suck of his little cock, or riding on it, sat astride his lap with my bottomhole full.
Afterwards I managed some work, if not much, spending most of the day surfing the net until it was time to go to Ami Bell’s. Chris had gone over to Europe for some football match or other, which was why she was alone, with the flat to herself. I was a bit concerned about how we’d get on, so I waited until I was sure some of the others would be there, but Gabrielle had done her job well. Ami was completely relaxed with me, not distant at all, and if anything more friendly than before I’d seduced her. She even cuddled up to me on the sofa while we watched Silence of the Lambs. It was really cosy, and I was even wondering if the two of us might not end up in bed together again when I got the most horrible shock.
I’m not really into horror films, and I’d never seen it before, but I was well into the plot, with the victim at the bottom of a pit and the psycho, Gumb, looking down on her with the poodle in his arms. Then Gumb began to speak – ‘It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told.’
It took a moment to sink in, as the girl answered, and again Gumb spoke – ‘It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.’ It was the ‘It’ game, or rather it was obviously where Monty had got the ‘It’ game from. He’d used it on me for sex, which was just horrible.
I just couldn’t handle it, at all. I didn’t even understand why it was so upsetting, except that sex ought to be intimate, trusting, however dirty it got. In fact, the dirtier it was the more intimate it became. Monty had betrayed that intimacy, twice, in the garden and on the cliff top, and I’d forgiven him, because it had been so good, for me. This was different. He’d used our intimacy, my trust for him, putting something in my head which hadn’t been there before, something that came from a really, really nasty motif.
Not that I imagined Monty was actually a psycho for a minute. After all, I’d given him plenty of opportunity to show his true colours if he had been. What mattered was that he had used the motif, on me, but even that I might have handled, if he’d only told me first. He hadn’t, and finding out came as a real shock. It made me feel sick, and I had to leave the room.
As I stood, trembling, by Ami’s sink, with a big glass of water in my hand, I tried to rationalise it away. I was telling myself that Monty might have thought up the idea on his own, that he hadn’t meant it to freak me out so badly, that I was being silly and it was just a game, all sorts of things, but none of it made me feel any better. He had made a link between my sex play and a particularly nasty horror film, and even if he hadn’t meant to, it was an awful thing to do. I’d thought he was being nice when he made me rub cream into my skin. I’d been wrong. It was the worst thing he’d done to me, by far. Worse than fucking me while I was being sick, worse then making me suck dirty old men’s cocks, worse than pissing up my pussy, worse even than the public enema.
The next morning I was feeling a bit better about it. At least I was able to sit down and look at the thing objectively, instead of purely in terms of my emotional reaction. From Monty’s behaviour, especially the ‘It’ game, it seemed clear that he actually did want to see me as a thing, to be used. OK for sex, but still. That just was not me, and I knew that I was going to have to get rid of him.
Unfortunately, there was the uncomfortable knowledge that I was being a hypocrite. After all, most of the pleasure I’d taken in him had come from the humiliation I felt at having sex with him, and if he’d known that he would have been really hurt.
So it wasn’t like Damon, who should have known when to take no for an answer. Monty was too much for my head, but I didn’t feel right about just cutting him off. To add to that, I was going to have to do something anyway, once Percy got back, because I just wouldn’t have the time for both relationships, and there is only so much abuse my poor bottom can stand. Monty was going to have to go, but gently.
By the time I’d reached that conclusion I was sitting at my computer, in my big shirt and beach shorts, idly checking through an article and sipping coffee. When my intercom went it was quite a shock, and for one awful moment I thought it was going to be Damon, until I heard the door open. Only one person announces himself that way, and sure enough, as I opened my flat door I found Percy, puffing his way up the stairs with a huge bunch of flowers and a magnum of Crémant. Immediately I was happy, hugging him and taking the flowers, then ushering him quickly into my flat.
‘You’re supposed to be in Bordeaux,’ I said as I closed the door.
‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘Didn’t you get my message?’
‘I had a message about vintage conditions, but the memory on my answering machine ran out halfway through.’
‘Damn fool contraptions. I crossed on Monday night, by the St Malo ferry.’
‘Oh right, well nice to see you anyway. I’ll get some fresh coffee going.’
I kissed him and gave his crotch a gentle squeeze, which he returned with a pat on my bottom. Walking into the kitchen, I bent to get milk, displaying my bright yellow beach shorts, which I’d been using as nightwear.
‘What in heaven’s name are you wearing?’ he demanded.
‘Beach shorts,’ I answered. ‘It’s a long story, and a very dirty one. I’ll tell you when I’m in the right mood.’
‘I look forward to it,’ he said, ‘but for now, there is the small matter of a bottle of Chambertin nineteen forty-nine.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes. I’d promised Louis I’d ring through my vintage report, and he tells me you were at Le Beaunois the other night, with a young gentleman.’
‘No gentleman. Damon Maurschen, an admirer, now ex.’
‘Never mind him. You drank the last bottle of that Chambertin.’
‘The second last.’
‘No, a group of businessmen drank that a few weeks ago. Now, you know you can misbehave all you like, but I really think you might have waited until you were with me to drink that bottle.’
‘Sorry, Percy.’
‘Well?’
‘Oh, all right.’
I knew what he wanted, and it was fair. With what I hoped was a look of meek resignation on my face I leaned across the kitchen table, lifting my bottom.
‘Good girl,’ he said calmly. ‘Now down with those silly shorts.’
Reaching back, I turned up my shirt-tail and pushed my shorts down over my bum, feeling that little jump of humiliation which always comes with exposing myself to him, however often I do it. I know how he likes me too, and set my feet apart without having to be told, stretching the shorts taut between my thighs and giving him a prime view of my pussy and bumhole. I knew that wasn’t all he could see.
‘Been smacked?’ he enquired, taking a casual squeeze of one cheek.
I nodded.
‘What with?’
‘A big spoon, and by hand. I think the marks are all left over from the spoon.’
‘No. He wouldn’t know what to do with a girl’s bum. Another man.’
‘You have been busy. Still, you look like you’re ripe for a few more, which is just as well. Right, back in, bottom up, let’s have that little hole pointing at the ceiling.’
I obeyed, making the display just one little bit ruder. He loved my bumhole showing, and it was more than likely that was where his cock would be going once he’d beaten me. I looked back at his red face, his balding head, the bulge of his gut: the perfect image for my discipline, to bring my humiliation to a glorious peak as he buggered me, then to cuddle me.
He took a while to inspect my bottom, gave it a couple of gentle pats, and left the room. I knew he’d gone to fetch the cane he always keeps at my flat for just such an occasion, leaving me with my bare bottom sticking out, wriggling my toes in anticipation of what was to come. Not that it was unexpected, but normally he’d have waited until the evening, once I’d got a few glasses of wine inside me and was in the mood. This was a punishment.
The cane was an evil looking thing, long and thin with knobbles and a crook handle at the end, a rattan, which he’d bought specifically for my discipline when we’d first started to play together. It stung like anything and, when he returned, flexing it in his hand, I felt the familiar weak feeling in my stomach and a lump rising in my throat.
‘Six,’ he announced, ‘although it can hardly be said to fit the crime.’
I braced myself as he lifted the cane, still looking back, and trying to fight down the rising panic at the thought of the pain he was about to inflict on me. I do like it, I adore it, but caning hurts.
I screamed at the first cut, and kicked my legs so that my shorts fell down. Percy paused to pick them up, holding them up to my face. I opened my mouth obediently, letting him stuff them in, crotch first, so that I could taste my own sex. It was to stifle my screams, but it was humiliating too, with the rag of yellow cloth hanging from my mouth as I once more pushed my bum up and out.
The second was delivered low, right across the fat of my cheeks, again making me jump and kick, the shorts falling from my mouth. Patiently, Percy paused again, rolling them into a tight ball and forcing them into my mouth, to leave me gaping wide with just a little yellow cloth showing in the opening. That left me breathing through my nose, bringing my sense of panic to a fresh peak as he drew back the cane for the third cut.
It was harder, and lower still, just above the groove where my bumcheeks join my thighs, a really sensitive spot, right over my pussy, and agonisingly painful. My eyes went wide and I blew my breath out through my nose, kicking wildly, then jumping up and down on my toes until the unbearable stinging began to dull. I was really panting as I got back into position, and my skin had started to flush on my boobs and tummy, as well as around my sex.
Seeing me come on heat so fast, Percy gave a dirty little chuckle, and squeezed his crotch as he lined up the fourth stroke. I could see he was getting hard as I braced myself, thinking of his cock inside me, and then once more it was all pain and the uncontrolled jerking of my body as the cut came down, higher, but harder still, to leave me gasping and trembling.
I could feel my pussy growing warm and urgent, and the pain had become more hot than sharp, a state it normally took longer to get to. I was sticking my bum up higher too, only half consciously, and as much in an instinctive need to flaunt myself for entry as for the cane. Percy knew full well what was happening and chuckled again, before bringing down the fifth stroke.
Once more I bucked, but with less violence, and I was sticking my bum up again even before my breathing had come back under control. He brought the sixth stroke down, another one across the meat of my buttocks, and as I slumped across the table I was feeling both relief and disappointment that the punishment was over.
Well, not over, because no man worth his salt canes a girl and doesn’t come over it, even if it’s only to put his spunk across her beaten bottom. Knowing Percy, it was unlikely to be anything so perfunctory. Sure enough, he had hung the cane over the back of a chair and was bending to look in the fridge.
‘Lard? Butter?’ he demanded. Sure enough, I was going to be buggered.
I pulled the shorts out of my mouth, finding them wet with saliva.
‘Neither. There’s some olive oil in the cupboard, extra virgin.’
He grunted, rising to open the cupboard and pull out the bottle of oil, glancing at the label as he turned to me. It was going up my bum, and he was reading the label, which made me giggle, only for the sound to turn to a squeak of pain and alarm as he took me by the ear, hard between finger and thumb, pulling me up. I went, squeaking with the pain, as he dragged me out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, throwing me down across my bed.
I scrambled into a crawling position, bum up, knees well apart, showing him everything. As he groped for his trouser buttons I lifted my shirt high, tucking it up under my neck to leave my boobs swinging bare beneath my chest. He kneeled on the bed, watching my bum all the time, and popping his buttons, one by one, the olive oil bottle clutched in his other hand. I gave him a wiggle and stuck my tongue out.
His cock, already half hard, came free of his fly, sticking out above his disproportionately large balls. I opened my mouth, hopeful for a suck, and he waddled forwards, on his knees, letting me take it in my mouth as his hand went to my bum. He fondled me as I sucked, stroking the cane wheals, then my cleft, my pussy, slipping a finger up my hole, then to my anus, tickling me as I sucked him to erection. It felt lovely, and my eyes were shut in bliss, revelling in the taste and feel of the cock I’d missed so much. He was smaller than Monty, or Damon, with a thin shaft, not that impressive maybe, but perfect for girls’ bumholes.
Which was where it was going: up mine. He had stopped fondling me, and was pouring the olive oil out into his hand, his face set in a frown of concentration. A little spilt over, the thick, yellow-green fluid running down over his hand to splash on my back. Then he had slapped it on to my bottom, full between my cheeks, and I felt the cool, oily sensation on the skin around my anus. He rubbed it well in, bumhole and pussy too, frigging me a little before a single fat finger found my bumhole and pushed inside. I stuck my bottom out, sucking harder as he invaded my rectum, lubricating me for the lovely slim cock in my mouth.
He let me suck for a moment more as he put the bottle down, then pulled free. I sank lower, pulling a pillow down the bed so I could cuddle it as I was buggered. My bum was right up, high, with olive oil pooled in my open anus, ready for buggery. Percy took me by the hips, pushing down to get me at the right height for entry, his cock slipping up into the crease of my bottom. I sighed, burying my face in the pillow, waiting to have my anus popped, only for him to slip it up my pussy, very easily, and start to fuck me.
I’d thought he would bugger me straight away, to make it more of a punishment, but I wasn’t complaining. It was nice, and he was well up me, with the firm, fat swell of his stomach pressing to my beaten bottom, fucking me with little, short pushes of his cock. It didn’t last long though, and as he pulled himself out of my pussy I once more braced myself for anal entry.
This time I got it, the head of his cock pressing to my juicy bumhole as I relaxed, letting my anus open with that awful, helpless feeling of being about to poo myself rising up, until he was in me and I was firmly plugged. Once in, he put it up slowly, push by push, pulling my ring in and out as I gasped and panted into the pillow. My whole body seemed to be filling with cock, right up to my head, with each push until he was right in, his balls squashed to my empty pussy, his shaft stretching my ring wide, with me breathless and abandoned.
His cock was up my bottom, a dirty old man of over sixty, buggering me as I kneeled on my bed, everything showing, my boobs quivering to his pushes, my smacked buttocks bouncing to his thrusts, stripped, caned and now buggered. It was ecstasy, nothing less, and as I slid my hand back to find my pussy I also knew that I could count on him to keep his cock wedged firmly up my bum until I reached orgasm.
It was going to happen too, very quickly, almost more quickly than I wanted it to. I couldn’t stop though, rubbing at my clitty, slipping a finger up my empty vagina, touching the junction between cock and bumhole, then back, to my clitty. He was getting faster, and harder, his balls squashing on my hand with each push, hurting me a little, just enough to be perfect as I concentrated on the utter, delicious humiliation of allowing a dirty old man to cane me, bare, and bugger me. And what was I doing? Crying? Trying to fight? No, I was frigging my pussy, masturbating my rude, wet little cunt . . .
I came, screaming out in pure, perfect ecstasy as my bumhole squeezed hard on Percy’s erection. It was more than he could stand and he immediately jammed it in, right up me, making me scream again, to a second peak, then a third, at the wonderful, utterly dirty thought that he had just spunked up my bottom.
He drained it into me, puffing and panting, with his hands locked in the soft flesh of my hips. I kept frigging, stretching out my orgasm as long as I could, until at last he had finished and we slumped together on the bed, exhausted but happy, kissing, lightly, then open mouthed as he took me in his arms to comfort me. Eventually he got up and I rolled on to my front, reaching back to stroke my sore bottom.
‘Ow!’ I said. ‘Satisfied, I hope?’
‘Absolutely,’ he assured me. ‘Especially as I have nearly a whole case of the stuff put down. In fact I’ve promised Charles a bottle to replace the one you drank, so you needn’t worry about the bill.’
‘That’s worth six of the best, just about,’ I joked.
‘We can easily make it a stroke a pound,’ he suggested.
‘Eight thousand five hundred cane strokes! Double ow! Not even from you.’
‘Well I dare say we’ll get there eventually anyway.’
‘Promises, promises. How does my bum look?’
‘As a girl’s should: well caned. Damn fine piece of work actually, if I say so myself. Go and look in the mirror.’
I did, and he was right. My bottom was well marked, and all six wheals were flat, parallel and evenly spaced. Each stroke had fallen just so, across both buttocks, with the teardrop marks where the end had caught me still on my cheeks. It was perfect, and with my bum stuck out it was better still, with my bumhole wet and juicy, the skin around it shiny with oil, a little sperm running out of the hole. A really lovely image of a punished girl: caned and buggered.
That was what was so good about Percy, one of the things anyway. He had caned me to perfection. In fact, if there was such a thing as a manual of technique for caning, the way teenage girls’ magazines have them for make-up, my bottom would have made the perfect illustration for the ‘finished’ picture.
Not that any such thing had occurred to me during my caning, when it was all pain and humiliation and the anticipation of sex. Yet I’d soon have been complaining if he’d caught my thighs, let alone the base of my spine. Of course he hadn’t. The victim shouldn’t have to worry about her tormentor’s skill. With Percy I never did, which is one of the things that makes him a master of the art.
So I was thoroughly pleased with myself afterwards, well and truly punished, and well and truly fulfilled. Well and truly buggered as well, but if my bottom was bruised and my anus throbbing and sore, it was in the nicest possible way, and I knew it would keep me horny all day, and probably longer.
It also put Monty’s abilities into very clear perspective, especially in terms of my reaction. He was going.
I’m certainly a brat, and I can be a bitch, I suppose, but only when people make me behave that way. Monty deserved better, and he was going to get it. It would have been so easy to tell him to get lost, and all he had was my mobile number, nothing else. It would have left me feeling bad though, which I hate. I’d still have done it, in different circumstances, but as it was, I had a solution.
I’d enjoyed the grown-up baby game with Gabrielle, but it hadn’t been perfect, and I knew it hadn’t been perfect for her either. Afterwards she had told me I’d been a little rough with her. Her ideal was strict but fair, spankings when she needed them, but only then. Unfortunately, having control over her, but only within the boundaries of her fantasy, wasn’t really enough for me. Head trips are all very well – crucial, in fact – if sex play is going to rise above mere animal response. They’re not everything though, and for her game to be any fun for me I’d had to have the physical contact, plenty of it, and rough. I do like being in charge, sometimes, and I like to punish.
Besides, I wasn’t really sure how a dominant was supposed to get her kicks in a game of grown-up babies. It’s easy with corporal punishment, because you can always make the victim lick pussy to say sorry, or to thank you for punishing her, or sit on her face as part of the punishment, with her tongue up your bumhole, whatever. Pee games are easier still, because she can lick while you do it in her mouth. After the scene I’d played out with Gabrielle it was different, and hard to see how I could have done it without breaking role. After all, what should a nurse do after bedtime? Go and drink gin in front of the TV?
What she needed was somebody who was more dominant and less sadistic, who liked the control for its own sake. Fortunately I knew just the man, her perfect partner. Well, not perfect – far from it in fact – but with enough common ground between them for each to get a lot of fun out of it. Just the thought of Monty and Gabrielle together was enough to put a huge smile on my face, while it would also salve my conscience. So it was perfect, for me anyway, which was what mattered.
It took me the rest of the week and three long phone calls to persuade Gabrielle that she ought to meet a complete stranger, and a man at that, with a view to him being her nurse. In the end I succeeded, but only on the proviso that I’d be there too and that we would all meet on neutral ground.
Monty was a lot easier. When I suggested that he might like to dominate another woman, and me at the same time, I thought he was going to come on the other end of the phone. He wanted to know everything, at once, but I told him to calm down and wait for me to call back with the arrangements.
All that was fine, except for one thing. Neutral ground was all very well, but we could hardly play grown-up babies in a pub or restaurant. A hotel was better, but we needed complete privacy, and a fair bit of equipment. It also had to be far enough away from any form of public transport to give me the time I needed if it looked as though Gabrielle was going to freak completely when she found out what Monty actually looked like.
So it had to be somewhere well out of town, where I and, if necessary, Gabrielle could maintain our anonymity. It also had to be safe, comfortable, with en suite bathrooms and preferably decorated in pink. It was the pink that set me thinking of the War Down Man. The room Monty had tormented me in had been pink, very pink. It was also miles from anywhere, and they didn’t even know my name as I’d never actually paid a bill there. The couple who ran it might be surly, but both Percy and Monty had had me screaming and they hadn’t interfered, so obviously they believed in leaving guests to their own devices. That or they were both stone deaf. Monty knew it too, which made it easier to arrange the meeting. In fact it was perfect, except that it was where he’d played the ‘It’ game on me, but I felt I could put up with that as long as he didn’t expect to repeat it.
I called both of them again, on the Friday night, and arranged everything, then rang the War Down Man from a call box to book the rooms, insisting on a double in pink. It was all set, and as I walked back to the flat I was feeling both the thrill of sexual anticipation and of the game I was playing. It even seemed a pity to be getting rid of Monty, but then I didn’t have to, because if he and Gabrielle worked together there was every likelihood they’d let me join in again, so I’d have the best of all worlds.
In the morning I collected Gabrielle from her flat. She was nervous, not surprisingly, but less so than I would have been. What I didn’t want to do was spring Monty on her as a complete surprise, so once we were out on the A3 I told her that Monty was pretty fat, and very much a pervert. To my surprise she simply shrugged and gave me a five-minute lecture on not allowing myself to be influenced by society’s concepts of the ideal. I wasn’t going to argue with that, so I gave her the whole story, or most of it anyway, certainly enough to give her a clear idea of what he was like. She listened without a word, just steepling her fingers, as if I was on her couch. Only when I had finished did she nod thoughtfully and speak.
‘His need to objectify women comes from his fear of rejection by real women, probably built up across a series of experiences, each of which will have fortified his attitude. The solution is simply to be open and trusting, demanding the same in return.’
I was going to say I’d tried that, only to realise I’d done nothing of the sort. In many ways Monty had been right not to trust me. Yet if I had told him the truth, he probably would have hated me for it. Certainly he’d have refused to play. He had pride, after all, of a sort.
‘As a fetishist yourself your must understand the frustration of being unable to easily express your sexuality,’ Gabrielle went on. ‘For you this applies only to your desire for those sexual preferences not broadly acceptable to society, as is also true for myself. For your Monty this is likely to apply to the full range of sexual experience. Was he overweight as an adolescent?’
‘Search me, I always avoided the topic. I got off on him being fat because it was so unacceptable, to humiliate myself.’
‘I see. Regardless, what we must do is build trust and hope it is returned.’
I didn’t answer, smiling to myself and remembering how it had felt to be sat on by him while whipped cream was squirted up my bumhole. She might be right, or not, but she seemed to be up for it, which was what mattered.
She went on talking, explaining her ideas of sex and society, which centred on the need for greater openness and understanding. I agreed, by and large, although I had to point out that if everybody was completely open and understanding nothing would seem naughty any more, which would take half the fun out of it. I had to explain, and ended up telling her some of my deepest secrets, even one or two things Percy didn’t know. Now it didn’t matter any more, because when you’ve changed a grown woman’s nappy for her, you can be sure your own secrets are safe.
What did annoy me a little was how coolly she took it. I told her how I’d sucked off a tramp to prove my own willpower to myself, how I’d let Percy stuff my anus and vagina with food and how we’d shared it, even how I’d first masturbated while filling my panties on a toilet in a French hotel. All of it she took quite calmly, as if I was talking about the weather.
I was determined to get some sort of reaction out of her, so as we came out on to the section of good road beyond Hindhead I put my foot down. It had terrified Monty, but not Gabrielle. My car is supposed to be able to do one hundred and sixty, and I got to just over one hundred and thirty before I lost my own nerve and slowed down. If Gabrielle noticed she didn’t show it. A robot would have shown more emotion, and it occurred to me that perhaps she really was perfect for Monty.
We got to the War Down Man in easy time for lunch, and shared a bottle of Chablis with our salad. The landlord was as miserable as ever, showing us up to the double room we’d booked, then the single. The single was good, but the double was perfect, a long attic room looking out across the downs in one direction and on to a leaded roof in the other. There was a large bathroom, with both bath and shower, twin four-foot-six beds, and as much pink upholstery as we could possibly have wanted.
We talked for ages, very intimately, discussing everything from the geology of Alsace to why men are so often obsessed with buggering girls. Nothing happened, but slowly the atmosphere between us became warmer and more sexual. By five I felt ready to start, Monty or no Monty, but it was Gabrielle who made the first move. She had sat down on one of the beds, and was bouncing gently, with a distinctly mischievous look on her face. I was immediately wondering what she was up to, and it was impossible not to smile.
‘Shall we put our nappies on?’ she suggested suddenly.
‘Shouldn’t we wait for Monty?’ I queried. ‘After all, he’s sure to want to put us in them. Or do you want to play together first, with me?’
‘In a way. I have been thinking, of what you said about the pleasure of being naughty. You enjoy it so much, and I am not sure that I understand, but I do not want to be dismissive. I would like to try.’
‘Great. What would make you feel naughty then?’
‘I do not know. This is what you must show me.’
‘OK . . . first rule then, naughty is when you know you can handle the consequences. If you can’t it’s just plain dangerous. Going with no panties under your dress is naughty, so is streaking if you don’t mind being arrested. Peeing over each other is naughty. Wearing a nappy aged twenty-seven is naughty.’
‘Going with no underwear I would find free. Streaking has little appeal for me. Peeing over each other is an intimate sharing of bodily fluids. Being in a nappy represents security.’
‘If you say so. So what were you thinking of, in nappies?’
‘Perhaps going outside.’
‘Outside!’
‘Yes. In skirts perhaps, so that we know, and people may guess, but they cannot be sure. With strangers to see, there would be no security. It would feel naughty, I think.’
‘Naughty! It would be terrifying!’
‘It would? With Monty you have had sex with strangers, which is greatly more dangerous.’
‘Yes, but they wanted it. We were on equal terms. To others I was just another person out for a walk. I was scared stiff when he gave me my titty whipping in the quarry.’
‘On Beachy Head, people realised that you had soiled yourself.’
‘Yes, but it was an accident. It looked like one anyway. That’s the good thing about panty-wetting and stuff. Nobody knows you’ve done it on purpose. Any girl might mess her panties if she was embarrassed enough about pulling them down where she might be seen. Anyway, Monty forced me, remember. I’d never have had the guts to just do it! Wearing a nappy is different. Everyone will know, and they’ll guess we’re kinky!’
‘Why?’
‘Well obviously! I mean, why else would we do it? Rubber incontinence pants are far less obtrusive.’
‘It is in your mind, and mine also, that it is sexual. Others will not know.’
‘I just wouldn’t dare!’
‘I would.’
‘Jesus, Gabrielle, it’s not that you don’t understand, it’s that you’re too liberal, and a sight too cool! In public, in a nappy!?’
‘On a country lane, a footpath even, on a September afternoon.’
‘There’ll be people about, believe me. And what about the miserable old git at reception?’
She merely shrugged, and began to undress, pushing her jeans and panties down over her hips with one smooth motion. Her shoes went with them, her top and bra followed and she was nude, rolling back on the bed and catching her legs up to make a fine display of her shaved pussy. I pulled a nappy from the bag in her luggage, unfolded it and put it on her, a lot more easily than I had the first time. Again there was that sweet shock of transition from naked girl to grown-up baby, something everyday to something exquisitely naughty.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It always feels better to be put in them. Now, a summer dress maybe. It is warm enough, I think.’
I sat down to watch, feeling more and more impressed by her, jealous too. It was so daring, and she was being really cool about it. There was no question about whether people were going to guess either. The dress she had chosen was loose, very floaty, in lightweight cotton, and pink. She had no bra underneath it, showing off her perky little tits in a way that would have been quite daring enough for most girls. The nappy was something else. It showed in outline as she moved, quite clearly when the light caught her dress in the right way. It amazed me, especially considering how private she was about her fetish, but she seemed to be determined, giving me a twirl to show off before slipping on a pair of sandals and declaring herself ready.
‘I know it’s not likely,’ I said, ‘but what if someone you know sees you, a client maybe?’
‘That is easy,’ she answered me. ‘I will explain that it is a new therapy, called practical regression, designed to reduce the stress inherent in adult life by making a symbolic reversion to an infantile condition. Believe me, I will convince them.’
She was right. She would. In fact, if she’d told me before I knew she was into being a grown-up baby, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. I’d have had to suppress a giggle perhaps, but I’d never have guessed the truth. She was too cool, too detached, to be into anything so perverse, and she was too clever to get caught out.
‘I want to do it too,’ I said suddenly. ‘Wait for me, Gabby.’
She smiled and bounced down on one of the beds, lying back to watch as I stripped. I knew my nerve would fail me if I didn’t hurry, so I pulled my clothes off as fast as I could. Nude, I rolled back on the bed, holding my legs up as she had done. She stood up, taking a nappy, and caught me by the ankles.
I relaxed, letting her take over, with the most beautiful sense of erotic humiliation washing over me as she tucked it under my bum. She was quick, obviously practised, opening my legs, curling the nappy up between them and fastening it off with quick, precise motions. I stood, to look at myself in the mirror, nude, save for the puffy pink and white nappy around my hips. It looked cheeky, and rude, and improper, all the things I like, especially from the rear, with my bum stuck out towards the mirror. How Gabrielle could not see it as naughty was beyond me.
‘You enjoy flirting with yourself, I think,’ Gabrielle remarked.
‘I never really thought of it that way,’ I said, ‘but yes, I get off on the sight of my own body. Don’t you?’
‘It is what I have been doing for years. Why do you think I have so many mirrors in my bedroom?’
‘Well you can show off for me now, too, and Monty. Shall I wear the white dress, or a skirt and top?’
‘The white dress.’
‘It’s very light, the pink of the nappy might show through.’
‘Good, and no bra. You must show your breasts.’
‘Mine are a lot bigger than yours, Gabby. They’ll really show.’
‘All the better.’
I put the dress on, quickly, before I could change my mind. The nappy did show underneath, my boobs too, both really prominent, yet the white dress gave such an innocent image that it didn’t seem tarty at all. I could feel my embarrassment though, really strong, so strong I wasn’t sure I could do it.’
‘We go,’ Gabrielle announced, opening the door.
I hesitated, but she took my hand and I stumbled out on to the landing, with my stomach knotting inside me. There was nobody about, but I could hear voices in the lobby below. Gabrielle shot me a glance, smiling, and set off down the stairs, quickly, with her dress bouncing behind her to hint at what she was wearing underneath with every step. I followed, trying to keep close to her, down one flight, the next, the last and we were in the lobby, where the landlord was booking in a group of four American tourists.
‘Good evening,’ Gabrielle said sweetly, smiling at a fat man in a gaudy shirt who was looking our way.
‘And a very good evening to you too, Miss,’ he replied, including me with a nod and a grin.
I responded in kind, trying to play it cool, but as I walked past, I caught a change in his expression, just for a moment. I nearly tripped over their luggage, catching myself just in time by skipping sideways and clutching at Gabrielle’s shoulder.
‘Beg pardon, Miss,’ the man said, and pulled his bag to the side. In doing so he gave himself a prime look at our rear views.
He had to have noticed. I felt the blood rushing to my face, and I scampered quickly to the door and out. Gabrielle followed, at a leisurely pace, until we were out of sight, when she burst into giggles.
‘Wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Just wonderful! Did you see the look on his face?’
‘Yes!’ I answered. ‘He must have seen. I’m sure he did!’
‘He may have guessed,’ she answered. ‘He may not. That was exciting, and yes, I think, naughty.’
‘Very naughty! You’re going to get us thrown out!’
‘I do not think so. It is good to have a partner, Natasha . . .’
‘Playmate.’
‘Playmate, as you say. It is very good. Thank you.’
She kissed me, which gave me a lovely warm glow of contentment. I was still filled with embarrassment, but I was buzzing too, with all the feelings of daring and naughtiness I enjoy, really strong. Gabrielle seemed much the same, and there was a glint of mischief in her eye as she took my hand, leading me quickly across the road to where a footpath sign pointed along the edge of a wood.
‘Where are we going?’ I demanded.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe just to walk, maybe to show off a little. It feels good, like this. I have never been outside in my nappy, never.’
‘Nor have I!’
‘Come then, let us enjoy it, and decide what to do with your Monty.’
‘You choose, it’s your thing.’
‘Very well. There are many games I play with myself, and yet more fantasies.’
‘Tell me.’
‘My favourite, I think, is to be fed at the breast. I take my bottle of course, in reality, although not usually in my bottom.’
I laughed and slapped her bum, on the soft padding of her nappy.
‘I’m not being nurse,’ I reminded her. ‘You can suckle me, but another time.’
‘I look forward to it. You have beautiful breasts, and large enough to play as nursemaid.’
‘Thank you, Gabrielle. I suppose I should take that as a compliment. What then?’
‘Just to play is good, but needs no help. I would like my nappy changed, and perhaps to have my bottom spanked. We could perhaps have Monty teach us to use the loo?’
‘Potty training? Perfect, and so dirty. That’s naughty, surely?’
‘Maybe, but not perhaps so naughty as this. We are out of sight of the hotel, so kiss me.’
She held her arms out and I came into them, letting our mouths meet in a gentle kiss that quickly became passionate. I knew we could be seen from the road, but I didn’t care. Snogging other girls is not something I’m prepared to keep private. Nor was she, obviously, because she was getting rude, one hand on my bum, the other around my back, holding me tightly, very tightly in fact, and then I realised that her fingers were inching up my dress, showing my legs.
‘Hey!’ I protested, pulling my head back as my nappy came on show. ‘No! Gabrielle!’
‘Be a good girl, no tantrums,’ she chided. ‘There is a car coming. Do you want them to see you making such a fuss?’
‘No, I . . .’ I squealed, but it was too late.
It was showing, the big pink bulge over my bum, unmistakably a nappy, and she had my arms, tight. I wriggled, struggling, but only succeeded in making more of a show of myself, wiggling my bottom as she hoisted the dress right up high, showing it all, waist to feet, my lower body bare but for a big pink nappy, wriggling in a silly little dance as I fought to escape.
I heard the car, and turned to look, catching a glimpse of the driver, a big, ginger-haired man, staring right at me, no more than fifty yards away. Then it was past, hidden by a hedge and she had let me go, and was skipping back, laughing.
‘Now that is naughty!’ she crowed. ‘Yes!’
‘Naughty!? I could kill you, Gabrielle!’
‘Du calm. Do it to me if you are cross. Come on, show the next car that I am wearing a nappy.’
‘You’ll cause an accident!’
‘Yes, maybe we should not. Spank my bottom instead, in the wood.’
‘No, you’d like that too much, and being shown off. You’re going to say sorry though, my way. In the wood.’
She ducked through the fence, giggling, and I followed. I took her hand, leading her a little way in, just far enough to be sure we weren’t seen from the road. It still wasn’t safe.
‘Kneel,’ I ordered.
She obeyed quickly, pulling her dress up so as not to soil it as she went down in the leaf mould.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Now show you’re sorry. Kiss this.’
I turned, glancing quickly around as I hiked up my skirt, and quickly tore the tabs on my nappy loose and let it fall, showing her my bare bum. She responded immediately, kissing one cheek, then the other.
‘Uh, uh, not like that, Gabby,’ I said, pulling open my cheeks. ‘On my bumhole, that’s how a girl should say sorry.’
She hesitated for only a second, and then I felt her face press to my bottom, her puckered lips touching me, to plant a firm kiss full on my bumhole.
‘Much better,’ I said. ‘That’s the way. Now once more.’
Again she did it, right on my ring, this time flicking her tongue out to lap at the tight little hole. I wanted more, but a sudden birdcall from the direction of the path brought our dirty little game to an end. She helped me fasten the nappy, both of us in fits of giggles, before we scampered quickly back to the path.
I was absolutely flying, high on pure, wanton pleasure, and so was she, laughing and stopping occasionally to kiss as we walked back towards the hotel. We would have ended up in bed, and never mind Monty, only as we came out on to the road I saw his awful car, just parking.
‘Monty’s here,’ I said, pulling her along by the hand. ‘Come on.’
She ran after me, reaching Monty just as he was heaving his bulk out of the driver’s seat. I kissed him as soon as he was upright, and stood aside to give him a clear view of Gabrielle.
‘This is Gabrielle,’ I said. ‘Gabrielle, meet Monty, my pet pervert.’
He grinned, showing a trace of uncertainty as his eyes flicked over her body, then mine.
‘We have nice breasts, you think?’ Gabrielle asked.
He coloured slightly, but managed to nod.
‘And you like our dresses?’ she went on.
‘Sure,’ he said, his eyes going lower.
A puzzled expression suddenly came over his face. I giggled, pulling my dress tighter to my front to show the outline of my nappy. Gabrielle did the same, cocking one hip out to make the bulge of the material unmistakable. His frown stayed, for a moment, then changed to a look of astonishment.
‘You’re wearing nappies!’ he said. ‘Both of you!’
‘We like nappies,’ I answered. ‘Don’t you like us in nappies?’
‘Yeah, kinky. But outdoors? Haven’t other people realised?’
‘Maybe, but they don’t know what we’re going to do in them, do they?’
‘Fucking hell. What do you want me to do?’
‘Play with us, of course.’
‘Both of you? At the same time?’
‘I think that’s what I said before.’
‘And you’ll do it to each other, in front of me?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He blew his cheeks out, his whole face beaming.
‘Not yet,’ Gabrielle said. ‘First we talk, and we eat, a good meal. I will order.’
‘Now? It’s only just gone six.’
‘We eat now, and no salad. Jacket potatoes, two each, filled with cheese, and chocolate cake for dessert.’
‘Sounds good,’ Monty put in. ‘Who’s for a beer?’
‘Not beer for us, cider,’ Gabrielle said firmly. ‘It is a better diuretic.’
‘Don’t muck about, do you?’ Monty said. ‘Let’s go in then. I’ll get the first round.’
We turned for the pub, Monty putting his arm around first me, then Gabrielle. When neither of us tried to pull away he let his hands wander lower, squeezing my bottom through the seat of my nappy, hers too. I let him have his feel, only gently taking his hand away when we reached the door.
‘Later,’ I said. ‘We don’t want to give people ideas.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he said, ‘and women go around in nappies all the time, I suppose.’
‘It’s a therapy,’ Gabrielle said, and gave him the full explanation.
It made him laugh, and that broke the last of the ice. We ordered our dinner, as Gabrielle had suggested, and in no time the two of them were chatting away as if they had known each other for years, and intimately. Because it was so early we had the dining room to ourselves, and Gabrielle began to explain her grown-up baby fantasy to him, only for the group of Americans to appear and choose the table right next to ours.
That stopped us talking openly, but Monty seemed to have caught on to the basic idea, and when the food arrived he fed her most of her potato with a spoon. From then on I was absolutely sure it was going to work. Just being in our nappies was enough to keep a permanent sexual tension, and having him know. I relaxed, drinking the two pints of cider Gabrielle had made me order, followed by a half of their Rieussec with my cake.
By the time we finished it was quite obvious that it was going to happen, and we went straight upstairs, catching a last curious look from the Americans as we went. In the room we locked the door behind us and drew the curtains on the windows looking out to the front, throwing everything into a pale pink-orange light.
‘So what’s the deal?’ Monty asked, sitting down heavily on a bed.
‘We’d like you to play a game with us,’ I told him, ‘like your role-playing games, only very naughty. You’re going to potty train us.’
‘Potty train you?’
‘It’s simple,’ I explained. ‘You’re supposed to teach us to use a pot instead of going in our nappies.’
‘We don’t have a pot.’
‘Use the loo,’ I went on. ‘You can make us pose on it and all sorts of rude things. If we do pee our nappies you’re to change us, and spank us too. Don’t forget to spank us.’
‘I won’t. Count on it,’ he answered. ‘Do I get to fuck you?’
‘Sure.’
‘Up your arseholes?’
I glanced at Gabrielle.
‘If it amuses you,’ she told him. ‘We are yours, to look after, to chastise as you think necessary, to treat as you please. Please do not be too rough, but if I should cry while my bottom is being spanked, you are not to stop.’
‘Me too,’ I added.
‘So none of these stop words?’
‘Well, yes,’ I said, ‘but we’ll try very hard not to use them.’
‘I do not need such a thing,’ Gabrielle said.
‘Are you sure?’ I asked her. ‘He can be pretty filthy.’
She shrugged.
‘You’d better get your dresses off then,’ he said. ‘Shoes too.’
Gabrielle responded immediately, reaching down and peeling her dress up and off. Monty licked his lips as her titties came on show, nodding to himself in satisfaction. I followed Gabrielle’s example, stripping quickly, kicking off my shoes. Shaking my hair out, I stood bare in front of Monty, Gabrielle beside me, both nude but for our nappies, with his piggy eyes feasting on our bodies.
‘You both need fucking,’ he said, ‘but playtime first, as that’s what you want. So, what to do while we wait for all that cider to work through? You’ll tell me when you’re going to wet, won’t you?’
‘A little more in role, please,’ I suggested. ‘You’re supposed to be our nurse.’
‘Nurse?’
‘Well no, I suppose not. What then?’
‘Actually, I don’t really feel comfortable about you playing babies. Couldn’t I be a wicked uncle who’s forced his sixteen- and eighteen-year-old nieces to go around everywhere in nappies?’
‘Yes please, perfect,’ I answered eagerly, then glanced at Gabrielle, who shrugged and nodded. ‘This will be naughty, believe me,’ I told her.
‘I will try,’ she said, ‘but I would still like to be trained, or something, so I am punished when I wet myself.’
‘Leave it to me,’ he smirked. ‘This is the deal. I’ve told you I’ll fuck you if you take your nappies off, so you’ve got no choice but to go to the toilet in them. When it happens, I’ll use it as an excuse to punish you.’
‘Yes please!’ I repeated. ‘Say yes, Gabby darling, please?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘It is different, but maybe I should try harder to learn.’
‘Right, outside, you two.’
‘Outside?’
‘On the roof, I said. I want you to feel exposed.’
‘We will be!’
‘It’s quite hidden. Now out there, do as you’re told, or does my cock go up those little virgin cunts?’
‘No, please, but couldn’t we put tops on, at least, just in case?’
‘No, it’s a warm day. I think you can go in just your nappies.’
I went to look out of the window, and sure enough, there was an expanse of flat lead roof with red tiles sloping up beyond it. Either end looked out over fields but, if anyone did see, they would be too far away to realise we were in nappies. They would see that we were topless though, and that’s the sort of showing off I’ve never had a problem with.
So I climbed out, Gabrielle following me. The lead was still warm from the sun, the air too, and I stretched, just luxuriating in my nakedness. It felt so daring, so rude, standing on a rooftop, nude except for my nappy, especially with so little chance of really being caught. It wasn’t going to be long before I wet myself either, because the cider was already getting to me, making my bladder tense if not yet painful. Monty looked totally happy, just watching from the window with a big grin on his face and his hand on his crotch. I could tell he was erect, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to get it out. I put my arm around Gabrielle, on the slim curve of her hip, and she returned the gesture.
‘I’m sure the pig wants us to wee in these horrid things, just to make us feel even more awful,’ I said.
‘I do not mind, actually,’ she answered. ‘It feels nice, comforting, but I don’t want that horrid cock of his anywhere near me.’
‘Nor do I!’ I assured her. ‘You are a pig, uncle Monty, to make us go like this.’
‘I’ll take you into town like that if you don’t mind your language,’ he said. ‘Titties bare and all.’
‘Pig! Oh, Gabby, I need to pee. I’m not sure I can hold on much longer. Hold me.’
She took me in her arms, folding me in until our bodies were pressed together, chest to chest. I could feel the pressure in my bladder, but I held back, letting the moment build. It was my first wet nappy, in well over twenty years anyway, and I wanted to enjoy it. Gabrielle was holding me really tight, and stroking my neck and hair, my back too. I kissed her, on the mouth, again, and we were snogging, holding on really close, really lovingly as I felt my pee start to come. I pulled back, letting her watch my face as the pressure grew and at last I let go.
‘Oh God, I’m doing it, Gabby. In my nappy. Cuddle me.’
I stood still, the warm pee flowing out of my body, down between my pussy lips and around the tuck of my bum, soaking into the nappy. Gabrielle held on tight, kissing and stroking me, and whispering into my ear, murmuring soothing words in French, calling me her pet and her sister and telling me not to be scared. I let it all come, flowing out into my nappy, until the material felt warm and soggy around my pussy and bum, with the same heavy feeling I’d had when I messed in my panties.
‘I’m full,’ I said as it finished. ‘Feel it. Then you.’
Her hands went down immediately, cupping the sagging bulge of my wet nappy in her hands. She began to go down, kissing my neck, my breasts, my tummy, then the front of my nappy, nuzzling her face against it. I held her head against myself, letting her nuzzle and feel my bum and the pee-soaked pink material encasing it, until at length she sat back on her heels, looking up me, ever so sweet, with her big grey eyes behind the glasses.
‘My turn,’ she said. ‘I can’t hold it any more. Watch me.’
She tumbled over, turning her back to me with her bottom stuck out and her knees apart, looking back over her shoulder. I sank down to get a better view, slipping a hand between my legs to feel the weight in my own nappy. Gabrielle’s eyes met mine, then closed.
‘I can feel it coming,’ she said. ‘This is lovely. It is coming out, now. Watch me, watch me do it, Tasha.’
Her mouth came open in a low sigh and I heard the hiss of her pee as she let it out. The back of her nappy quickly began to bulge, growing heavy with piddle, and as a familiar scent caught my nose I realised that wasn’t all.
‘Oh you’re not!’ I said. ‘Gabby!’
She just nodded, and sighed again, clenching her bottom, then relaxing once more. In the window Monty was watching, his eyes round, his hand on his crotch, rubbing at a very obvious erection. Again Gabrielle squeezed, and I saw the bulge in her nappy grow bigger, and once more, so that the load began to pull the nappy down her hips, exposing the very top of her bottom cleft.
I just had to touch, so I cupped my hands beneath her bottom, feeling the weight of the load in her nappy, lifting it, and squashing it against her bum and up over her pussy. She moaned in pleasure, sticking it out, and I felt it start to swell once more as another piece came out.
‘That’s all,’ she said. ‘Now you’ve got to do it, Tasha, the same, for me.’
‘Cuddle me, then,’ I demanded. ‘I’ll try.’
She turned immediately and came into my arms, our breasts squashed together, our mouths meeting, opening, to kiss, hard, our tongues twining together. I was stroking her neck and back, and her hands went lower, touching my nappy, one hand slightly down it, to caress the little V at the top of my bottom crease. I came in closer and her hand slid down further, between my cheeks, to tickle my anus. I let it relax, wondering if she wanted me to do it in her hand, but she pulled back, kissing me on the nose.
‘Just do it, now,’ she whispered.
It was more than I could resist, and I knew I could manage. I leaned into her, my head to her chest, my arms tight around her. She put a hand to my neck, stroking my skin and my hair, the other going down again, along the curve of my spine, on to my nappy, cupping my bottom. I shut my eyes, sighing, and as my mouth came open so did my bumhole, slowly, pushing out, spreading around the head of a fat, hard piece of dirt. I nearly came as I did it, just from that feeling of utter, glorious wantonness, the dirty, irresponsible delight of doing my business in my nappy instead of a toilet. There was more too, and all the time Gabrielle held me tight, cuddling me and whispering to me, until I’d done it all, and my nappy was as heavy and soggy and filthy as hers.
We went on cuddling, stroking each other and kissing, again and again letting our hands stray to the obscene bulges in each other’s nappies. I was revelling in it, and I could tell she was too, in no hurry, just enjoying the sensation of having each other to hold with dirty nappies on, full nappies, heavy with pee and dung, squashy and wet around our pussies and up our bottoms. Not just that, but we were on a rooftop, bare to the sky, breasts showing, so open, so exposed.
Only when a light aeroplane went overhead did we stop. Not that they could have seen anything, except maybe two topless girls snogging, which was enough to send me into a fit of mischievous giggles as we broke apart. We stood up, grinning at each other, her eyes full of mischievous delight, mine too. We’d really done it, together, and now we were going to get punished for it, spanked and fucked by dirty old uncle Monty, which was just what we deserved. He was still at the window, only now he had his cock out, erect, his balls too, bulging from beneath his shaft.
‘Sluts,’ he said. ‘Little dirty sluts. Inside, both of you. You need changing, then spanking, after that it’s time to pop your cunt cherries.’
‘Pig!’ I spat, but I climbed in at the window willingly enough, with only a little discomfort as I sat on the ledge and squashed the mess up into my crease.
‘Bathroom floor,’ Monty ordered. ‘Gabby first.’
She went, very meekly, her head hung as she walked to the bathroom. Lying down on the shiny pink floor tiles, she put her hands behind her head and her knees up, waiting. Monty took a fresh nappy, and the packet of baby wipes we’d brought, and followed her in. I watched from the door as he changed her, my own load hanging heavy in my nappy, feeling utterly humiliated and aroused to the point where I could hardly hold myself back from frigging.
First he pulled the tabs free at either side of her nappy, then pulled her legs up, holding her by both ankles, then one so that he could peel the nappy away from her pussy. It fell away, landing on the floor with a squashy sound, and I could see everything, a real mess, all over her pussy. I pinched my nose, making a face at her, and she stuck out her tongue in reply.
Monty made fast work of her, wiping her pussy clean before lifting her by the ankles to get at her bumcheeks. He left her hole until last, polishing the little ring until it was pink and glossy, then poking a finger up for good measure. She took it all without flinching, even while he was feeling around up her bum.
Personally, I couldn’t stop giggling, despite the smell, until he turned round to remind me that I was next, which shut me up. He was going to do to me what he’d just done to Gabby, to see my dirty bum, and clean it too. The humiliation was unbearable, just thinking about it, and then she was up, sent into the corner with a smack on her bottom, and he was nodding to the floor.
I got down as he put her dirty nappy into a plastic bag, and adopted the same vulnerable position she had. My breathing was low and heavy, my stomach fluttering as he turned to me. He pulled the tabs open, one by one, peeling them loose. He took my legs, lifting them, which squashed my load up my pussy, making me cry out in surprise and disgust.
‘Big baby!’ Gabrielle chided, obviously familiar with what had just happened to me.
I barely heard her, because he’d dropped one leg and was pulling at my nappy, lifting it, letting it drop, and it was all showing, the whole revolting mess, all over my pussy and bum, and pretty smelly too, with Gabrielle holding her nose and giggling. Monty had the wipes, and was pulling my legs apart, spreading my dirty pussy. He touched me, dabbing at me, on my pubic mound, on my sex lips, and into the groove between them, right on my clit, once, twice, three times, and I just came.
It hit me so suddenly, and so hard, a really intense orgasm, built on my exposure, my humiliation, the whole dirty game, everything coming together in one glorious climax. Fortunately he had the sense to keep dabbing at me, rubbing my clit until I’d had enough and moved my hand down to push his away, after which I just lay still, letting him manhandle me as he pleased, cleaning my pussy, my bum, and fingering me in both my holes as well. He saw my cane marks too, and commented on them, but I told him Gabrielle had done it and she had the sense to keep quiet.
We went into the shower after that, together, soaping ach other as he watched, tugging at his cock, which had gone limp while he was changing our nappies. It had been good, wonderfully good, but it wasn’t over, as neither of them had come. That was how I’d wanted it, although it had been accidental, but in any case I was sure still to be expected to play. He was hard again by the time we finished our shower, and gloating over our naked bodies. We held on to each other, pretending to be afraid.
‘Now a spanking for both of you,’ he declared. ‘Side by side, over the bath, both of you, now!’
We scampered across, quickly positioning ourselves over the bath, bums lifted high, and legs together, our pussies showing in the mirror behind us. He came around, brandishing his cock.
‘Get your backs in, I want to see those arseholes,’ he ordered. ‘That’s better. Boy I am going to enjoy fucking you two. Right.’
He closed in, his podgy hands going to our bums, fondling us, his fingers everywhere, including up our pussies. Both of us were soaking, and I could hear the little wet noises as he poked and probed.
‘Bitches on heat,’ he said. ‘Taste yourselves.’
His hands came forward, sticking two fingers, wet with slimy white pussy juice, right under my nose, another two under hers. I sucked automatically, tasting my juice, and watched Gabrielle from the corner of my eye as she did the same. He stepped back, pulling his fingers free, and again I felt his hand on my bum, this time with the palm flat against my cheeks.
An instant later he hit me with a swat that sent me sprawling across the edge of the bath. I squealed in pain and surprise, but it didn’t stop him, his hand twisting hard in my wet hair as he forced me down, smacking me again and again. My control went instantly. Screaming, kicking and thrashing, I was beaten firmly, my bum turned to a burning ball of tender flesh, until at last I burst into tears and he stopped, as suddenly as he had begun.
I staggered upright, my mouth wide, rubbing at my poor bottom, just in time to see him take Gabrielle firmly around the waist. I knew she had a low pain threshold, and sure enough, from the first smack she was howling, and in tears almost immediately. He didn’t care, he beat her well, his big, heavy arm going up and down like a piston, spanking and spanking as she howled and kicked and struggled, tears streaming from her eyes, begging and pleading for him to stop, of which he took not the slightest piece of notice. In the end he stopped when his own hand started to get sore, leaving her to slump down, sobbing, with her bottom a rich, deep pink all over, just like mine.
I gave her a cuddle as he recovered his breath, and helped her up. She was still crying, but she didn’t complain, just turning her back to the mirror to inspect her bottom. He grinned at her expression as she saw what had been done to her, and held out his cock.
‘Cunt time,’ he announced gleefully. ‘Which one wants her cherry popped first?’
‘Do me first, you beast,’ Gabrielle answered. ‘Leave her alone.’
‘You’re both going to get it,’ he said, ‘right up, or else I’ll use your arseholes. Tell you what, you can choose. You first, Gabby. What’s more precious, your cherry or the old chocolate starfish?’
‘I can’t take that,’ she said. ‘Not in my bottom.’
‘Cunt then,’ he said. ‘Over the bog, backwards, I want to watch you piss, and I’m going to fuck you while you do it. Can you do it?’
Gabrielle nodded, and I watched as she mounted the loo, clutching the cistern, with her red bum stuck out, her back curved in to make a real show of herself, pussy and bumhole both flaunted. Monty was stroking his cock, which was nearly back to erection. I took it, pulling at the thick shaft as we watched Gabrielle. She was looking at us too, back over her shoulder, her mouth slightly open, her pale eyes half-lidded.
Her pee started to come, drips, a little gush, a stream, splashing into the water beneath her. Monty moved forwards, my hand slipping from his cock, taking her firmly by the hips. His gut squashed out against her trim buttocks, the expression on her face changed and I knew he was in her, his big, ugly cock moving in her neat little pussy, in and out, jamming her against the cistern with each push. Her pee was still coming too, running off his balls as he fucked her, splashing on to the toilet seat and floor.
She was moaning, and giving out little sharp cries as her body jerked to his thrusts. He did her hard, really pumping into her, with his whole body wobbling as he moved. I’d always been the one he was up, so I’d never realised just how obscene it looked when he was with a girl, especially Gabrielle, like something out of a kitsch sci-fi movie.
I’d have masturbated, but she didn’t, taking the pounding until at last he withdrew, standing back, panting, his cock slimy with her juice. I swallowed, knowing it was my turn, and wondering if I could manage it up my bum.
‘Well, Tasha?’ he puffed. ‘Your sister’s been popped, so what’s it to be, cunt or arsehole?’
‘Not my pussy, you pig,’ I answered. ‘You can’t!’
‘Then it’s your arsehole,’ he smirked, ‘and I’m going to grease the ring with your sister’s cunt juice. Get over the bog, stick it out.’
I got into the same lewd position Gabrielle had been made to adopt. He positioned himself behind me, and I shut my eyes, my whole body trembling as I let my bumhole push out, opening, wet and mushy, an easy target for his penis. His hands took my hips, and he pressed up to me, jamming me against the cistern, his belly squashing out against my bottom, his cock pushing between my cheeks. He nudged it lower and for a moment it went up my pussy, then out, smearing slimy juice up between my cheeks and on to my bumhole.
‘Got you,’ he said, and pushed.
My anus spread around the head of his cock, stretching, with a twinge of pain, despite my being so sloppy. He grunted and pushed again, making me gasp as the head went in, my sphincter closing on the neck. Again he pushed, forcing in a little more, and yet more, stuffing my poor aching bumhole with penis, until at last the full, fat length was jammed up.
‘Fucking great feeling,’ he grunted. ‘Nothing like one up the dirt box, eh Tasha?’
I managed a weak moan in response and he began to move inside me, slowly at first, then faster, quickly leaving me breathless, then panting as he began to pump into me the same way he had treated Gabrielle, harder and harder, crushing me against the cistern, my breasts slapping on the cold porcelain. I was screaming and thrashing my head from side to side, in pain but ecstasy too, with my bottom hot and wet under his belly, wanting to masturbate but unable to get my hand to my pussy for fear of having my face pushed into the wall. It slowed, leaving me gasping in relief, only to see Monty reach out beside me and pull off a long piece of toilet paper.
‘Get this in your mouth, you noisy bitch!’ he spat.
I made to protest, only to have it jammed in between my teeth and wadded firmly into my mouth, leaving the last piece hanging out. Again he began to bugger me and, as I glanced sideways, I found that I could see him in the mirror, on top of me, his toadlike body pumping into my little bottom, my boobs swinging and, worst of all, a piece of bright pink loo paper hanging from my mouth.
He was getting hard again too, pushing me back against the cistern, hurting as he shoved himself over and over into my bowels. I knew he was coming towards orgasm, but I didn’t know if I could take it, or if my ring would tear. It felt like it, absolutely on fire, but I couldn’t speak, couldn’t stop him, about to get the full load of his sperm in my gut . . .
He stopped again, suddenly, really panting. His thumbs went to my bottom, spreading my cheeks as he pulled slowly out. I was sure he hadn’t come, and I looked back, finding him red faced and gasping, his cock sticking out from his trousers like a pole, slimy, but with no trace of sperm.
‘Are you all right, Monty?’ I asked.
He sat back, on the edge of the bath, panting hard, his fat face crimson, shaking his head.
‘I can’t,’ he puffed. ‘I can’t make it. Ow, my legs! Shit! I’m sorry, Tasha.’
‘Do not worry,’ Gabrielle said, and as she sank down to her knees I realised that she was going to suck him.
I had to watch, her pretty face, so delicate, so genteel, as she opened her mouth to take in that huge, dirty cock, a fat man’s cock, a cock that had just been used to bugger me, stuffed up my bumhole in my own mess. She was going to do it though, her long, elegant fingers closing gently around the base, pulling it forwards, towards her mouth, kissing the obscene, bulbous head, and then it was in and she was sucking.
Monty leaned back, bracing himself against the bath, still struggling to get his breath. It came, and then he was grinning with absolute glee as he watched her. She moved a little, fully between his open legs, setting her knees apart and sticking out her bottom to show off her sex. Her head came up, off his cock, leaving it glistening with her saliva. She’d sucked most of it, but not the base, and as she poked out her tongue to finish the job I knew I had to have my share.
I got down, crawling quickly over, doglike, on my hands and knees with my tongue lolling out. Gabrielle saw, and moved to let me in, holding Monty’s cock out for me. I took it in deep, sucking down the thick, salty flavour, feeling the fat head push into the back of my throat. Gabrielle’s arm came around my back and I pulled off, offering his cock to her. She took the head, and I began to lick the base, finishing the job of cleaning his cock up until my mouth was full of my own earthy taste.
He was breathing hard again, but with pleasure, as we shared his cock, licking, sucking and wanking, at his feet, both nude, both wet and juicy, holding each other and feasting on his dirty cock, until at last it jerked, he grunted, and came, full in Gabrielle’s face, all over her glasses and her nose, in her mouth too. She gave a little shocked cry, dropping his cock and I caught it, pulling it towards me even as the second spurt erupted, over my nose and into my open mouth as I took him in, sucking and swallowing, over and over, draining him down my throat, until at last he could stand it no more and pulled me off by the hair.
Gabrielle and I turned immediately to each other, our mouths opening, licking at each other’s faces. She cleaned my nose and I hers, then her glasses, licking up the spunk and smearing it across the lenses. I giggled at the sight, sure she couldn’t see a thing, then our mouths came open and we were kissing, sharing the taste of his sperm and the rich, dirty tang of my bottom. Her hands were on my boobs, then lower, under my belly as we rolled the sperm together in our mouths. She found my clitty, dabbing at me, even as I slid a finger into her pussy. We closed, tight, cuddling and frigging, my thumb on her clitty, her body wet with sweat against mine, the spunk on her face smearing over my cheek, and once more I was coming, and so was Gabrielle.
It all came together in my head as my orgasm rose, the whole glorious filthy game, wearing the nappy, playing with Gabrielle, cuddling her on the roof. Peeing in my nappy and watching her fill hers with dirt, doing the same myself, and the feel of the squashy, soggy mess against my skin. The utter humiliation of being changed, of coming as Monty wiped me clean, the shower, the cock up my bottom, and at last my lovely Gabrielle to share a mouthful of fat Monty Hartle’s spunk as we came together in beautiful, blinding ecstasy. It was such a good orgasm, together, kissing and frigging, with the mixture of sperm and saliva running down our chins, on to our breasts and the floor. Being in front of Monty was good too, our fat uncle Monty, watching his two dirty little nieces, ravished and spoiled, getting carried away with each other on the bathroom floor. 253
We took a break, to rest and clean up, including such essentials as mouthwash and brandy, all of which we had packed. We had beer too, which Monty and I guzzled and Gabrielle sipped. I was getting tired, although Gabrielle seemed full of energy, and Monty was obviously determined to make the best of his luck. He had stripped off, and was lying on one bed, idly playing with himself and watching us. We were on the other, me nude, Gabrielle in frilly pink panties and a short nightie, gently petting each other, which was doing wonders for his cock. It was time for me to go, almost.
‘You know your ‘‘It’’ game, Monty?’ I said casually. ‘Where did you get the idea?’
‘From this scene in Silence of the Lambs,’ he answered. ‘This guy . . .’
‘I know,’ I interrupted, ‘and it wasn’t very nice. Horror and sex don’t mix. Now come into the bathroom.’
‘Why? What are you going to do?’
‘Don’t be awkward, or I won’t let you play with me any more. Come on.’
I got up and took his hand, trying to pull him up. He came, fortunately, because he could just as well have dragged me down over his knee. I led him into the bathroom, Gabrielle watching from the bed.
‘On the floor. Kneel,’ I said.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Kneel down, Monty.’
He kneeled, reluctantly, his expression full of uncertainty as I straddled his legs, my pussy just inches from his face. I took him by the hair, pulling his head back and moving closer still. His tongue appeared, lapping at my pussy.
‘Uh, uh, none of that,’ I chided. ‘Just open wide, like a good boy, otherwise no more games, and I mean that.’
His mouth came open.
‘Now this,’ I said, ‘is for the ‘‘It’’ game. Drink up.’
I let him have it, right in the face, the full contents of my bladder, which had been building up since I’d first wet my nappy. Just watching was great, with the pee bubbling out of his mouth despite his best efforts to swallow, splashing over his face and body too, until he was absolutely running with it, and sitting in a big puddle. Best of all was his expression when I’d finished, his face screwed up in absolute disgust, his eyes shut tight, his throat working as he swallowed his last mouthful.
‘That’s one,’ I said, still with my hand locked firmly in his hair.
‘And two?’ he asked.
I turned, presenting him with my bare bottom, my crease open over his mouth.
‘Kiss my bumhole,’ I demanded.
‘Hey, come on, that’s your kick.’
‘Kiss my bumhole, Monty.’
He kissed, his thick lips pressing to my anus. ‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘That was for spanking me in public. Now three, for making me mess in my panties. Open wide.’
‘No!’ he squeaked.
‘Open wide, Monty. Just think, no willing little playmates any more.’
‘Please no. Not this, I . . .’
I skipped back, laughing, and bent to kiss him. He looked absolutely horror-struck, but his mouth had been open. He would have let me do it, in his mouth, or at least try to. However he had treated me, however little respect he gave to me, that showed just how much I was worth to him.
‘He has my seal of approval, Gabby,’ I said, patting him on the head. ‘What are you up to?’
She was standing in the doorway, looking sheepish. It was quite obvious that she’d had an accident, with the crotch of her frillies wet and taut across her pussy. 255
‘I’ve been naughty,’ she said, ‘I’ve wet my bed, and, and, oh dear . . .’
She just did it, standing there as we watched, completely filling her panties, far more than before, the rear pouch bulging until the weight was simply too much and they fell down, around her ankles, landing squashily on the floor.
‘Here we are, Monty. She’s all yours,’ I said, and threw him the baby wipes.