Samantha was a spoilt brat, and proud of it. She could do whatever she pleased and there wasn’t a soul in the world could stop her. Or so she believed...
She was a young woman now, and felt with all of her heart that every day spent in school was a day wasted when she could be out there having fun. Samantha would regularly question what the point in her education was anyway; it wasn’t as if she would ever need to work. Her trust fund was set to mature as soon as she hit twenty-one, and she knew full well that the content of her father’s wallet was never more than a well-timed hug and a fluttered eyelash away.
Over the years Samantha had used every devious trick in the book to get herself expelled from a succession of the finest girls’ schools in the country. On the last occasion, her suggesting to the headmistress that she should perhaps, ‘Get laid and then maybe she would lighten up a little,’ to an audience of the entire sixth form, had proven to be the final straw in a long list of calculated and petulant misdemeanours.
Samantha had mewed to her father that it wasn’t actually her fault that she kept getting thrown out of school, and went on to explain that none of them seemed to understand her quite the way that her daddy did. She had suggested that they perhaps forget about her schooling altogether, and that it might be a better idea to set her up with a nice little apartment in one of the more fashionable parts of town instead.
For once, however, things had not gone entirely her way as, although Samantha’s father was something of a pushover where his daughter was concerned, he was nevertheless a principled man and was determined that his only child should receive the education his own humble beginnings had denied him. As a last ditch attempt to make that happen, he had called in a few favours and promised to make an enormous donation to the school gymnasium fund just so as to secure a place for his daughter at the very expensive Saint Hilda’s Boarding School for Young Ladies.
Samantha had, of course, stomped and strutted, complaining bitterly that it just wasn’t fair, before finally refusing point-blank to go. But by way of a compromise her father suggested that if she were to attend school and be expelled yet again, then he would finally allow her to put her schooldays behind her for good. If, on the other hand, she were to leave by her own volition, then he would cancel her trust fund and let her make her own way in the big wide world, just as he had done all those years ago as a penniless sixteen-year-old boy.
Consequently, Samantha grinned to herself in the knowledge that she would have Saint Hilda’s packing her suitcases for her in no time at all!
Being summoned to the headmaster’s office on her very first day at the new school was impressive, even by Samantha’s standards. She’d seen him for the first time during morning assembly, and was actually pleasantly surprised by what she had found. He must have been in his late-forties and she thought him rather handsome in that ‘older-man’ kind of a way.
Samantha was well aware of the powers she wielded as an extremely attractive young lady, and she had decided that there might be some fun to be had in the process of getting herself kicked out. Of course, it would be a shame if his career was ruined in the process, but it wasn’t as if Samantha could be entirely blamed if they just happened to be caught performing inappropriate acts in his study.
Saint Hilda’s had a strict uniform policy, yet as she strolled casually along the corridor it was plain to see that Samantha was already flouting it outrageously. Her regimental school-tartan skirt was tiny compared to the other girls’, and whenever she found herself needing to bend forward it proved to be downright indecent.
Her blouse was at least two sizes too small and she had buttoned it not nearly high enough at the neck. And as for the heels of her shoes, they must have been a good three inches higher than permitted under school law. Samantha’s entire appearance could not, in all honesty, be considered decent for a young lady at Saint Hilda’s, but she knew that very well, and if it only ended up in hastening her expulsion, then that was just perfect.
Arriving at the headmaster’s study some six minutes late for her meeting with him, Samantha knocked on the heavy oak door and entered. Inside was a reception area where a bespectacled secretary sat typing at her desk.
‘Excuse me, I’m here to see the headmaster,’ Samantha announced with exaggerated shyness, already practicing the Little-Miss-Innocence voice that had yet to fail her, while locking her hands behind her back and gently swinging her hips from side to side.
The secretary looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow, before smiling. ‘Very well, let’s see then, shall we? Your name please?’
‘Samantha,’ she replied. ‘Samantha Nelson.’ She watched as the secretary drew a painted fingernail across the open page of the headmaster’s diary.
‘No... no I don’t think so,’ she replied.
‘Oh, but...’
‘Wait a moment,’ the secretary went on, ‘I’m sure I can guess what the problem is.’ She reached across her desk for a separate appointment book, before setting it down and flipping through the pages. ‘Ah yes! Just as I thought; here we are.’ She looked up once more, only this time without any hint of a smile. ‘No, you are not scheduled to see the headmaster at all, young lady. You have an appointment with the discipline officer, and you’re late!’
Something about the way the secretary’s sunny demeanour suddenly evaporated caused Samantha’s stomach to lurch unpleasantly. ‘Who?’ she quickly questioned, more than a little unnerved.
‘It’s “who” miss, and all in good time, young lady. Now, take a seat over there. You’ll be called for soon enough.’
Samantha did just as she was told, as much out of confusion as compliance, and sat in silence with her brow furrowed wondering what on earth a ‘discipline officer’ could be, as none of her previous schools had ever had such a thing. Whatever it was, it did not sound promising.
She wasn’t given long to consider the matter, however, as suddenly a buzzer on the secretary’s desk startled Samantha out of her reverie.
‘You may go through now, Miss Nelson,’ the secretary announced, indicating a door to the right.
Samantha stood and straightened what little there was of her skirt to straighten. She took a deep, steadying breath and reminded herself that she was special, and could do absolutely anything she pleased, before stepping towards the door to turn the polished brass handle.
She found herself entering a large study that was very much in keeping with the grandeur of the school. Her heels clicked across polished wooden boards, and she looked up to see bookshelves towering all around her, each one brimming with leather-bound tomes.
An enormous marble fireplace dominated one wall, and to one side sat an imposing, heavy oak desk, yet as Samantha peered through the gloom of the room, she could see no one sitting behind it.
She slowly peered around and was suddenly surprised to see a woman’s form silhouetted against one of the large arched windows opposite. She was standing with her back to the room, clearly looking out over the playing fields which stretched away outside. And whoever she was, she did not turn to face Samantha when she eventually spoke.
‘Come in, Samantha, and please be a dear and shut the door behind you.’
Samantha did just as instructed, rather confused by the peculiarity of the situation.
After a further period of silence, the tense atmosphere doing nothing to relieve Samantha’s growing sense of uncertainty, the woman turned around.
She smiled warmly at Samantha and stepped forward with supreme confidence, while offering a hand in greeting. Samantha took it instinctively and stared, open-mouthed, without uttering a word. The lady was quite breathtaking. She was certainly beautiful, but there was more to it than that. She had a certain elegance about her that Samantha had never seen among the staff of a stuffy old boarding school before. But it was not just her natural good looks that were so striking; there was something strangely contradictory about the way she dressed. On the one hand she looked intensely formal, yet on the other she exuded a strange, elusive sexuality.
The discipline officer wore a tight cream-coloured blouse, which was buttoned all the way up to her neck and was set off with a string of beautiful, silver-grey pearls. She wore a long, very tight pencil skirt in dark grey, which was patterned with only the faintest of pinstripes. It was cut high in the waist and accentuated the curve of her impressive hourglass figure just perfectly. From what little of her legs were on show, Samantha could see that the she was wearing silk stockings, with an obvious seam that ran up the back of her calves, and she had no doubt that they would be fastened to appropriately luxurious underwear.
On her feet the lady wore patent leather stiletto heels, far more extreme than any Samantha had seen on a teacher before.
‘Hello, Samantha, I’m very pleased to meet you,’ the lady said. ‘My name is Miss Grant, and I am Saint Hilda’s discipline officer.’
There was something hypnotic about the icy-blue grip of Miss Grant’s stare, and Samantha was not at all sure that she liked it. It almost felt as though she was being read, as though her most secret thoughts had been laid bare, yet unnerved as she was, Samantha felt quite powerless to look away. But eventually the discipline officer blinked softly and Samantha felt as though she could breathe once more.
‘Please, do take a seat,’ she offered, at last releasing Samantha’s hand and indicating the straight-backed chair that stood to the front of the desk.
Samantha seated herself in silence. She watched, utterly transfixed, as Miss Grant stepped around the desk and lowered herself smoothly and effortlessly into her own chair. The discipline officer sat with perfect poise, the epitome of refined elegance previous schools had desperately, and unsuccessfully, tried to drum into Samantha. She picked up a pair of tortoiseshell reading spectacles and perching them on the tip of her nose.
‘Lollipop?’ she suddenly asked, lifting a huge glass jar from the corner of the desk and tipping it towards Samantha, who looked utterly affronted that anyone could possibly think a young lady of her age could be placated by something as childish as sweeties.
‘Um, no thanks,’ she mumbled in response.
‘Suit yourself,’ Miss Grant said, completely at ease. ‘Now then, to business.’ She reached for a rather thick dossier of papers and set them down in front of herself. Briefly she looked over the rim of her glasses and offered a smile, causing Samantha’s stomach to lurch once more, before turning her attention to the folder.
Miss Grant really was a remarkable looking woman, and Samantha couldn’t stop herself from studying her while she read. Her hair was a lustrous chocolate-brown, and although it must have been rather long, she wore it pinned up at the back in a way that would have looked incredibly severe on many women, yet somehow suited Miss Grant just perfectly and only added to her refined glamour.
Her eyebrows were meticulously sculpted and arched, her skin alabaster white, and but for a tiny chicken-pox scar on one cheek, entirely blemish free. Seemingly, the only concession that the discipline officer made to traditional femininity was in her decision to wear lipstick, yet even this was a shade darker than was perhaps obvious, and reminded Samantha uneasily of dried blood.
After a few minutes, which to the disquieted schoolgirl felt like an eternity, Miss Grant suddenly closed the file of papers with a dramatic slap, causing Samantha to jump with fright.
‘Well now, Samantha,’ she said, ‘you have found yourself in a number of little scrapes over the years, haven’t you?’ Again her words were accompanied by that gentle smile. In a way it made Samantha want to trust her, yet at the same time it somehow made her seem that little bit more dangerous.
The discipline officer’s words were of course a major understatement, as Samantha’s records showed that she had been disciplined, suspended and ultimately expelled from more schools than you could care to shake a stick at.
‘The good news, however, is that we do not care about previous misdemeanours here at Saint Hilda’s,’ the woman went on. ‘All of our girls start afresh with an absolutely clean slate.’ She paused and raised an accusatory eyebrow before continuing. ‘But sadly, Samantha, on this your very first day here you have already chosen to blot your copybook. What was it now?’ She reached across and picked up a memorandum from the desk. ‘Ah yes. “Smoking a cigarette on school premises”.’
Samantha thrived on confrontation. Her absolute belief that she could get away with anything calmed her and a tiny piece of Miss Grant’s spell was suddenly broken. ‘Yes, Miss,’ she replied with a smirk.
The schoolgirl’s arrogance only seemed to amuse Miss Grant, however, as she released a tiny snort of laughter. ‘Well, full marks for honesty, I must say. I’m very impressed that you didn’t try to blame it on one of the other girls.’ There was a sudden, almost imperceptible shift in Miss Grant’s expression that caused Samantha to stiffen on her chair. ‘You are by no means unique, Samantha, and I have seen this kind of thing many times before. You were intentionally exerting what power you perceive yourself to have in a blatant and all too obvious manner; testing your boundaries, as it were. You knew full well that you would get caught and you knew full well that a confrontation would ensue.
‘However,’ Miss Grant continued, ‘one thing I can promise you will not have been expecting, Samantha, was to find yourself brought before someone like me.’
Samantha had to concede to herself that this was more than the truth. Over the years she had become an expert at dealing with headmasters and headmistresses. The men were easy. Since she had blossomed into an extremely attractive young woman she had simply abused her sexuality to the point where they had no choice but to get rid of her for fear that they might actually submit to her manipulations and end up in serious trouble themselves. The women were a little harder, but so far they’d been so prim and so righteous that she had ultimately managed to shock them into dismissing her.
But Miss Grant was an altogether new challenge, and she gave the disquieting impression that she was totally unflappable.
‘So what are you going to do?’ Samantha goaded with mock bravado, as her heart raced unpleasantly. ‘Expel me?’
Miss Grant laughed again. ‘Good Lord no, Samantha. What on earth would give you that impression? I’m proud to say that in all the time I’ve served this school we have yet to dismiss a single girl, and trust me, I’ve had to deal with one or two characters who make you look like a little angel.
‘But clearly I have to punish you; we cannot have our young ladies thinking the rules somehow do not apply to them, now can we?’
Under normal circumstances punishment meant nothing to Samantha. It only served to advance her that little bit closer towards her ultimate goal of expulsion. Detentions were an opportunity to humiliate the teacher in charge, and manual labour gave her the chance to miss classes and skip school all together. This time, however, there was something in the way Miss Grant stared over the rim of her spectacles that let Samantha know things were going to be quite different.
‘Um, what... what kind of punishment?’ she asked, desperately trying to look un-phased, but failing quite miserably.
Once more Miss Grant’s expression softened. ‘Oh well, it’s a little old-fashioned in a way, but I have found it to prove most effective.’ Again the discipline officer paused to hold Samantha in her steely gaze, before going on without so much as a hint of embarrassment. ‘I intend to give you a thoroughly good spanking, Samantha.’
‘What?’ Samantha blurted with absolute incredulity.
‘Now, now, Samantha, it’s “pardon, miss” if you did not hear me correctly. But on this occasion, as it’s your first day, I’ll forgive your indiscretion, although I do not expect to have to tell you again.’
‘But... but you can’t spank me!’ Samantha exclaimed, incensed. ‘It’s... it’s ridiculous. It’s against the law and I’ll... I’ll tell daddy.’
The discipline officer was clearly amused by Samantha’s sudden childish outburst, and she only just managed to disguise her amusement behind a crisp white handkerchief and elegant ‘cough’. ‘You really shouldn’t be talking of “daddy” now, should you Samantha? If you consider yourself of an age to smoke cigarettes then you should surely be able to face your punishment like an adult too. Besides, your parents are entirely irrelevant here. It is me you answer to, and they cannot assert any influence over this establishment or me whatsoever.’
‘What...?’ Samantha began, but she was quickly and silently admonished with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. ‘I mean, pardon miss?’
‘Good girl. That’s a start. Now, if you had only taken the time to read the papers you were asked to sign upon joining us at Saint Hilda’s, then you would have seen that we view you as being an adult now. If you do not wish to follow our regulations then you are free to leave at any time that you like. If, however, you choose to stay on, then you must obey all of our rules and that, I’m afraid, includes our choice of punishments.’
‘You mean, I can just go?’ Samantha asked with shocked wonder, suddenly delighted that she might not need to get herself expelled after all. ‘I can leave here any time I like?’
‘Right this very second if you so choose,’ the woman confirmed. ‘I’ll even have a driver take you to the station.’
For one wonderful moment Samantha felt utterly elated, and she wondered what first to do with her newfound freedom, but then Miss Grant went on and spoiled things. ‘Though I should probably point out to you, Samantha, that I am party to the – now how should I put this? – the, um, little arrangement you have with your father, and remind you that leaving Saint Hilda’s on your own accord is in no way akin to you being expelled.’
Samantha’s mind whirled with confusion. ‘But... but if I go daddy will cut me off!’
The discipline officer gave a look of genuine empathy towards her charge, and even went as far as to reach a hand across the desk and briefly press it against Samantha’s. ‘I know, my dear,’ she comforted, ‘but as I say, you are a young woman now, and with adulthood comes responsibility.’
‘But a... a spanking?’ Samantha stammered, her indignation growing as she finally accepted she was beaten.
‘Oh come now, Samantha, it’s not that bad. It will be over and done with in no time. I can see by your school records that you’re no stranger to physical pain.’ She patted the file next to her with a palm. ‘Admittedly it looks as though you tended to be the administrator as opposed to the receiver, but still...’
‘But spanking?’ Samantha repeated in a voice barely more than a whisper, and as much to herself as the beautiful woman sitting opposite her.
A moment passed in silence. ‘So, my dear, have you made your choice?’ Miss Grant prompted softly.
‘Oh all right, just do it!’ Samantha snapped, but then quickly remembering to whom she was speaking, she looked up shyly and added a quick ‘miss’.
The woman nodded sagely. ‘I think that’s a very wise decision, Samantha, if I may say so.’ She stood and stepped around her desk. ‘Now, come,’ she said, holding out her hands and indicating for Samantha to join her, and with a sigh of resignation Samantha reached up and allowed herself to be guided to her feet.
The naughty teenager was led across the room until she was left facing the large marble fireplace. Without the need for verbal instruction, the discipline officer carefully placed both Samantha’s hands at shoulder width apart on the cold stone of the mantel. The fire in the grate must have died some time before, but the last vestiges of warmth comforted Samantha’s naked thighs as she awaited her punishment.
‘If you will just step a little further back, please Samantha,’ Miss Grant directed, and Samantha obeyed until she was forced to support her bodyweight on her arms alone.
‘I see you are wearing heels that contravene our uniform code,’ the woman observed, ‘and I really ought to discipline you for that too, but on this occasion I’m going to let it pass so as to make my task all the easier. And besides...’ she continued in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘...don’t tell anyone I said this, but I must admit they are rather nice shoes. Perhaps later on you could let me know where you found them. Now, legs apart please.’
Samantha suddenly felt very nervous. Never before had she been rendered so powerless, so utterly submissive to the will of another. The one nanny who had been foolish enough to raise a hand to her found herself dismissed just as soon as Samantha had run crying to her father. And there she now stood, an independent young woman awaiting the first proper spanking of her life, and she was scared.
‘W-will it hurt, miss?’ she asked meekly.
‘Well I won’t lie to you, Samantha,’ the woman answered frankly. ‘Yes, it will hurt. That’s a large part of the reason why I choose this punishment, but it is certainly not the only reason. You will learn the rest soon enough.’
Samantha frowned as she tried to make sense of the discipline officer’s words, but she had no time to draw any conclusions as she suddenly gasped at the sensation of her skirt being lifted and left bunched around her waist. Her chest heaved and she drew short, desperate breaths as she waited for the first spank to strike.
But what came next was not the stinging swat of an open palm, although it was no less shocking. Instead Samantha felt her white cotton panties being peeled down her thighs, to be left stretched between her knees. ‘Hey!’ she cried, through the shame of her exposure. With her legs strained wide apart, and with her wearing such an extreme pair of heels, she discovered a level of humiliation she had never known before.
‘Oh come now, Samantha,’ the austere woman scolded. ‘How do you expect me to administer your punishment properly if your bottom is still covered?’ And Samantha was given no time to respond as the first cruel slap suddenly came swinging down against a naked buttock.
‘Ouch!’ she squealed, and automatically tried to straighten up, but it only put an increasingly uncomfortable strain on her arms so she was forced to ease back into her previous position.
Again Miss Grant spanked Samantha’s bare bottom, only this time on the opposite cheek, and if anything with an even greater force than before. ‘Ow! Stop it, stop it please!’ Samantha begged as she felt her flesh burn and throb.
Time and time again she was subjected to the crack of Miss Grant’s hand smacking her naked bottom. Clearly the discipline officer was an expert at delivering a thorough spanking, as she moved smoothly and effortlessly from one cheek to the other to leave no area unpunished, swatting upward so that Samantha’s cheeks would be lifted and parted ever so slightly with every cruel impact.
Samantha yelped and whimpered in tune with the torment of her spanking. While the physical pain was intense beyond words, soon enough, and somewhat strangely, it was no longer the worst aspect of her ordeal. That dubious honour fell to the simmering frustration that gnawed deep inside, and heightened with each slap from the discipline officer’s hand.
She writhed as best she could, tensing and releasing her buttocks, but it was quite useless and the extra strain on her arms only added to her discomfort. She breathed rapidly and desperately, and her thoughts swam with strange emotions. Despite the fact that she was no longer a child she felt silent tears spill down her flushed cheeks, and in a desperate attempt to detach her thoughts from the physical assault, she discovered that it had little to do with the pain she was suffering, but more from an extreme dissatisfaction that throbbed deep within her body.
Each noisy spank of Miss Grant’s palm stung just as the first, but in time, and somewhat bizarrely, Samantha found herself accepting the pain, longing for it even, as it offered a brief respite to the unfathomable anguish that swelled within her. She gritted her teeth and growled with the frustration that bit at her every nerve. She cried out and she moaned, yet deeper now and in a way that only added to her confusion. She tested her body further and was utterly perplexed to discover just how tightly her nipples had swollen within the confines of her bra. She looked further still and gasped with the discovery that she had parted her legs that little bit wider, dropped her upper body that little bit further forward, and in a way that meant the discipline officer was able to spank her more fully... and more intimately.
Samantha was a tough girl and she knew just how to deal with pain, but this was different. Her body felt as though it was on fire and she couldn’t understand why she almost liked it. She had never before experienced the paradox of pain and desire mixing together. Normally the two emotions opposed one another, yet not here, not now. She found herself longing for her ordeal to be over, yet desperate to experience the next stinging slap that would cause an illicit thrill to charge deep into her core.
Panting heavily Samantha felt her body wind tighter and tighter. She wasn’t a stupid girl and she recognised the feelings; it was one she had enjoyed many times over the last few years, but never from an experience so humiliating and certainly not in the company of another woman. While Miss Grant’s slaps continued to detonate on her poor punished buttocks, they were slower now, yet in contrast Samantha’s tension only grew stronger.
She squealed tiny cries as the sensation of pain merging with pleasure became almost too wonderful to bear. She could feel just how hot and how tight her clitoris had swollen, yet she could not understand why. It was almost as if...
The naughty schoolgirl shut her eyes with absolute shame as the obvious reality finally presented itself. The beautiful discipline officer had been touching her while she spanked her. She knew it was wrong, but just as she had newly discovered that the divide between pain and pleasure was not always as clear cut as once it had seemed, maybe neither was that between right and wrong. But without considering it further she slumped forward to lean her forearms on the cool marble of the mantelpiece, offering her pussy more blatantly still to the bittersweet caress from behind.
The slaps still fell, but gently now. Miss Grant struck upward against the lower curve of Samantha’s buttocks, and through it all the girl felt her clit being expertly teased by a fingertip.
‘Are you comfortable, Samantha?’ came the soft, comforting voice of the discipline officer, and the student simply nodded her head in response, unable to speak through her joy and disgrace.
In truth she was far from comfortable. Her backside burned and her arms ached, yet that was nothing compared to the confusion that raged in her head. But despite all of this she found it quite impossible to rebel against the exquisite torture she was being given.
‘Well, I am glad. You see, Samantha, disciplining a young lady is not just about pain, you know.’
Samantha’s mouth opened and she gasped as two fingers carefully work their way into her wet pussy.
‘No, not at all,’ the woman went on, her voice almost hypnotic. ‘It’s about showing her the kind of thing she might be permitted to enjoy if only she chooses to behave...’ Samantha shuddered and released a long moan in unison with the sensation of Miss Grant gently fucking her with expert fingers, ‘...as much as it is about denying her when she’s bad. I could very easily just stop your punishment right now...’
‘Oh no, please,’ Samantha quickly gasped, the idea alone a cruel torment.
‘Or I could offer you more if you were to promise to be a better pupil in the future?’
Samantha noticed how Miss Grant had ceased spanking her, and now only soothed her aching flesh with deep, circular rubs of a thumb. ‘Oh yes, please,’ she pleaded.
‘Of course, Samantha, if that is what you want. But I need to know you’re a good girl now. Are you a good girl?’
‘Yes... yes I am, I promise,’ came her pleading response.
‘Yes what, Samantha?’ the discipline officer prompted.
‘Yes, miss... sorry, miss. I’m a good girl now, miss, I promise.’
‘All right then, if you say so, and perhaps you do deserve a little treat now, but before I give it to you, you need to know one thing. This punishment is only ever given once to naughty girls. Thereafter it is occasionally awarded to those young ladies who display a certain level of maturity and who find themselves with a particular need. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, miss,’ Samantha gasped, furrowing her brow and pushing back her hips so that the discipline officer’s fingers were forced to enter her still deeper.
‘Very good,’ the woman purred. ‘And I must say, we do have a remarkable success rate here at Saint Hilda’s, where persuading wayward girls to change their ways is concerned.’ And with that Miss Grant proceeded to work her manicured fingers in and out of Samantha’s wet pussy with an increased intensity, sliding her free hand around a thigh and using soft fingertips to caress her clit.
‘Oh, God!’ Samantha cried as shivering thrills shot through her over and over again. She drew rapid breaths through flaring nostrils, her legs suddenly weakening, and released a long, constricted squeal from the back of her throat. She panted and gasped. For some reason she found herself wanting to express the intensity of her passion through profanities, but at the same time she knew she’d promised to behave like a good girl now, and the possibility that the discipline officer might cease her special treatment, should Samantha start swearing, was one far too appalling to risk.
And then all rational thought was gone. Samantha’s orgasm suddenly exploded with a blinding energy. It seized her body completely, caused her muscles to tense, a tingling energy sparking to her fingertips and toes. She slumped against the marble mantelpiece for support, fearing she might collapse at any moment; such was the exhausting intensity of her surrender.
It was as powerful a climax as Samantha had ever experienced, yet in time it moved into a second phase where she found herself releasing sobbing moans to the sensation of a softer, warmer state of bliss. Once more she focussed on Miss Grant’s expert caresses, and the way she continued to stimulate her pussy, only very gently now.
Eventually it was over and Samantha released a shuddering exhalation as the discipline officer’s fingers slipped away. She just stood there, far too ashamed to open her eyes, breathing deep, relaxing breaths while her heartbeat slowly began to settle. She felt the soft caress of her panties being carefully drawn up her thighs, of her skirt being pulled down and straightened with efficient hands.
As Miss Grant carefully helped Samantha away from the fireplace, soothing her tired arm muscles as she moved them to her sides, she spoke with her usual confident tone.
‘Well done, Samantha,’ she said. ‘I have a good feeling about you. I don’t expect to hear that you’ve been misbehaving ever again, and if I do I have many other punishments at my disposal, but none in quite the same vain as you’ve experienced here today.’
A finger stroked Samantha’s flushed cheek, and she opened her eyes to meet Miss Grant’s stare.
‘I may be the discipline officer here at Saint Hilda’s, but I’m not all bad,’ she said. ‘As you’ve discovered, I am quite capable of administering both pain and pleasure, and I’m happy to offer either depending on circumstances. From time to time you will be called to my office so we can review your progress, and appropriate punishments or rewards may be offered. And let me tell you, my good girls always leave those meetings with a smile on their faces. Is that understood?’
Samantha nodded shyly. ‘Yes, miss,’ she said politely.
Miss Grant smiled that beautiful smile and Samantha felt her heart skip one last time. ‘Good girl,’ she said, taking Samantha’s hand in her own. ‘Now, run along and I’ll look forward to seeing you again very soon. And Samantha,’ she added, peering over her glasses a little more sternly, ‘no more cigarettes, please. Smoking is such an unattractive trait in a young lady.’
Samantha offered a brief nod by way of response, and the discipline officer gave Samantha’s hand a gentle squeeze.
‘Oh, and help yourself to a lollypop on your way out. I know very well that you want one really.’
‘Thanks, miss,’ Samantha replied, stepping to the desk on shaky legs and picking out a pink and yellow lolly from the jar.
As she popped it between her lips, tasting the sugary, strawberry goodness slip across her tongue, she walked towards the heavy oak door and reached for the handle. She turned to take one last look towards the discipline officer, but she was once more facing away, once more staring out of the large window at the playing fields beyond, and Samantha considered that it might not be such a bad thing to at least try and be a good girl. Well, for a little while, at least.
Once upon a time, in a land far away, lived a beautiful young lady by the name of Little Red. Red wasn’t her real name of course, and it had been many years since you could fairly describe her as being ‘little’, but it was what everyone had called her since the first soft fuzz of fiery red hair had appeared on her head as a babe in her mother’s arms. There were only a few left in the village who could actually remember her real name, and even Red herself would have to think hard on it if ever she wished to be reminded.
As a child she had hated her red hair, as the boys in the village would pull at it and call her cruel names like ‘carrot-top’ and ‘copper-knickers’. During her journey towards adulthood, however, its tone had progressively softened until it settled into a rich, lustrous auburn, which she would take great care over washing, scenting and brushing until it shone like a polished horse chestnut.
It wasn’t only her hair colour that changed over those years either, as Red blossomed into an extremely attractive young woman. And those very same boys who had once teased her would now find themselves tongue-tied and awkward when in her presence.
Yes, Red was by far the prettiest young woman in the village. Beyond the long, silky-soft hair that now fell well below her shoulders, she had eyes as deep and as green as a millpond at sunset, a laugh that could melt the iciest of hearts, and lips full, soft and utterly enticing.
Red’s body had developed too and was now as ripe and as juicy as a late summer pear. She was long in the leg and slim around the waist, she had curves just where they counted, and she’d been further blessed with a fine pair of breasts that were the envy of every woman over a certain age, and were often discussed in the smoke-filled corners of hostelries for many miles around.
Although Red’s family owned a handsome, dapple-gray draught, a dairy cow named Thistle, three goats and a good dozen or so hens, times could be hard and her father kept a tight grip on the purse strings. This, much to Red’s displeasure, meant that there was rarely money left over for little luxuries and what clothes she owned had been patched, darned and handed-down several times over. Consequently Red had become something of an expert with needle and thread, and although she always tried to look her very best, there was only so much even she could do to adjust a dress, a skirt or a blouse that she had simply grown out of two years prior. Thus her clothes would be that little bit tighter and that little bit shorter than was perhaps decent in a young lady of Red’s shapely dimensions – a fact that was rarely complained about by the young men of the village.
Now, although Red was hardworking, intoxicatingly beautiful and generally kind of heart, she was not always the picture of innocence I may have led you to believe. She had never actually been with a man, of course, yet that certainly did not stop her from thinking about it. In fact, over the last few years Red would find herself imagining that very thought several times a day. And when that strange tingling sensation would take a hold of her senses, she was not at all averse to skulking away to the meadow – where the long lush grass would conceal her presence – so she could lie down on her back, lift up her skirt, and allow her hands to slip down between her thighs. Red would return to the farmhouse some time later, rosy-cheeked and with a look on her face that would have her mother worrying that Little Red had caught a chill.
She was an inquisitive girl, and over the years had become quite a student of the male physique. She’d obviously paid quiet attention to her older brothers as they grew from boys into men, and on several occasions had secretly observed the village lads as they washed naked in the stream. But by far her favourite lessons were learnt when she would creep out of the house late on a Friday night to peer through the windows of the old bunkhouse where the farmhands resided. Once there she would watch what the occupants got up to with the local girls they would bring home from the hostelries, drunk and full of amorous intent.
Red was a farm girl and therefore no stranger to the rutting of beasts, but at first it shocked her to witness sexual congress between a man and a woman. She had been surprised by the change in a man’s thing – as she’d first known it called – as it grew from soft to hard, but soon she began to marvel at such magic and to wonder how it might feel if she were the one to offer it a tender caress. She would memorise the vulgar words she’d heard gasped in the throes of passion, and would take secret pleasure in repeating them aloud to herself when no one was there to hear.
Red had watched in awe as the village sluts took stiff cocks into their mouths, and how they would suck on them until the men would cry out and spill their sticky white cum across their chests. She had watched them fuck in all kinds of positions and had even seen a man use his tongue to lap a young lady’s pussy – a young lady who, incidentally, looked an awful lot like the vicar’s daughter.
That had been her absolute favourite new word; ‘pussy’. She thought it so fitting, as she’d discovered her own to be just as soft and just as tender as a newborn kitten. On those nights when she would observe the farm workers at play she would inevitably find her own palm sliding beneath her nightshirt, where it would tease her clit in just the way she liked while she imagined it was she in there with them and that it was her body they were making use of. Soon enough Red would be forced to bite hard against a knuckle so as to stifle the cries of pleasure she’d unfailingly release before she would dash back across the darkened yard and quickly on up to bed.
Poor Red longed to experience a man for herself. While her friends would giggle and pull faces at how disgusting it all sounded, Red’s eyes would mist over and she’d dreamily imagine how sweet it would be to close her lips around a gentleman’s big hard cock and to suck on it until he was forced to groan with the pleasure she had bestowed.
There was one experience that Red dreamed about more than any other, however; more even than having her pussy licked by a handsome farm boy. Red desperately wanted to feel a man inside her. She wanted to experience the sensation of her pussy being stretched by a rigid shaft as it pushed slowly inside. She wanted to feel it consume her body entirely so that she’d be forced to cry out like all those women she had secretly observed. Poor Red desperately wanted to experience the joy in being fucked good and hard, but alas she was not married and nor was her father looking to find her a suitor for a good while yet – it was simply too useful for him to have an extra pair of hands around the farm – and so, for now, she just had to make do with the pleasure of her fingers and the occasional candle she would steal away when mother was not looking.
Now, I must warn you not to feel too sorry for Little Red, as in all honesty she couldn’t always be described as being a ‘good girl’. You see, over time she had become something of a tease. It began quite by accident one Saturday evening when she was called down to the kitchen by her mother for her turn in the tub. Red loved bath night and once mother had disappeared up to her room she would light as many candles as she could lay her hands on, hang a freshly laundered nightshirt in front of the stove and pull off her clothes before sliding naked beneath the warm water.
On this particular evening Red had been laying there, lazily dreaming of the ironmonger and how impressive his arm muscles looked as she’d watched him hammer out a new set of shoes for Snowflake, when she was startled out of her reverie by a sudden noise from outside. Her immediate reaction had been to fold her arms tight across her breasts so as to protect her modesty, but as she heard what sounded like an irritated whisper from beyond and beneath the kitchen window, she became aware of an all-too-familiar throbbing sensation between her thighs. Red shut her eyes and allowed her arms to slip back to her sides once more. She listened intently over her racing heartbeat, and again she heard the unmistakable sound of hushed male voices. Swallowing awkwardly through a constricted throat, Red called out – but only loud enough so that her peeping-Toms would be able to hear – ‘Yes, mother, but I just need to stand up and soap myself down,’ and on shaky legs she lifted herself upright.
At first she faced away from the kitchen window, but she could see just enough of its reflection in the polished copper bottoms of the pots that hung from the stove. And soon enough the shape of two heads presented themselves, quickly joined by a third.
Red was absolutely horrified that she was being spied upon – quite neglecting to acknowledge her own hypocrisy – yet as she proceeded to lather her breasts, discovering just how tight her nipples had now swollen, and the way they tingled as her fingertips played across them, she could not deny that there was something intensely thrilling about the experience.
Slowly she began to turn around. Not wishing to scare her voyeurs away she made sure to avoid facing directly towards them, yet positioned herself in such a way that they would be able to see all that any red-blooded male could possibly desire. Red took great care over soaping her naked body, twisting first one way and then the other, her creamy-white flesh dripping wet and shiny in the warm glow of the candlelight, her nipples flushing an angry shade of scarlet from the heat of the water. She allowed a palm to slip down between her thighs, and she rubbed back and forth against the soft fur of her mound. Red gasped as a fingertip ran across the tiny bud of her clitoris, to discover just how it had swollen and how much it longed for caresses. She even considered sliding a finger inside, to seek illicit joy in the heat of her wetness, but just as she was wondering if she really dared there was an almighty crash from beyond the window. Instinctively she looked up with fright, just in time to catch the startled expressions of her brother, Josh, and two of his friends a moment before they ducked away to disappear into the night.
Back in her bedroom Red was utterly incensed that her own flesh and blood could permit others to watch her as she bathed, but at the same time a tiny flame had been ignited, and once she’d climbed beneath the sheets she couldn’t help but allow her fingers to slide between her legs to play with her pussy until she arched her back and struggled to suppress the cries of her passion.
Early the following morning Red sneaked into Josh’s room while he was out tending the goats, with the intention of placing a rotten egg beneath his bedclothes by way of revenge. Upon lifting his pillow away, however, she discovered a soft leather pouch containing a good ten pennies; way more money than Josh could ever have earned through honest labour alone, and she quickly realised that the enterprising little worm had been profiting through his sister’s bath time performances and she was quite set to explode with rage.
She immediately stuffed the pouch into her pocket and strode purposefully from his room, but just then, upon reaching the top of the stairs, for some strange reason she stopped short. It certainly didn’t bother her that Josh would be in trouble beyond his wildest dreams should she complain to her parents, but it was more that she knew just what a puritan her father could be, and that once informed he would no doubt only then ban her from bathing in the kitchen where there were windows to be peered through.
She considered confronting Josh directly and demanding the money for herself, but then there would be no more shows for her to put on, and if truth be known she had rather enjoyed it. So with her mind made up she counted out exactly half of the pennies and placed them in her pocket. She then returned to Josh’s room and replaced the pouch where she’d found it. Of course her brother would be incandescent with fury when he discovered half of his ill-gotten-gains were missing, but he would be in no position to protest, and being the young entrepreneur that he clearly was, he would no doubt only be encouraged to set about earning yet more.
Neither Red nor Josh ever discussed their little business arrangement, but thereafter, every Sunday morning, Red would go to his room and help herself to half of the contents of his pouch; a sum which only grew with time and the notoriety of her displays.
You might have thought that her bath night performances would have been enough to settle her appetite for male attention, but in time this proved not to be the case and she took to teasing the farm boys without any hope of financial reward. On summer afternoons she would choose one lucky young man, and let slip how sticky-hot she was and how she couldn’t wait to sneak off when father wasn’t watching to enjoy a refreshing dip in the creek. Once there Red would strip naked and dive into the cool water knowing her young voyeur would be hiding behind a tree while she frolicked in the water or sunned herself on the rocks.
Once a year the travelling folk would come to the village for the horse fair, and in the hope of earning a little extra money they would move from farm to farm in search of casual labour. These men had a reputation for being fighters, drinkers and frequenters of whores, and most farmers would threaten to set the dogs on them if they so much as dared to step onto their land. But not so Red’s father as he knew them to be strong men and hard grafters, and on good years he would take on a dozen or so to help out in the fields.
During the traveller’s most recent visit, Little Red had awarded herself the task of taking out their lunchtime refreshment, telling her mother that it was only fair that they be treated like any other farm worker, but secretly, she only did so because she enjoyed the attention they would bestow upon her, not to mention the pleasure she would gain from seeing them stripped down to the waist and glistening with the sweat of their toil.
Most of the local girls were scared of the travellers as they looked quite different to the men of the village. Their hair was as black as pitch and they would grow it long and wear it tied back with fine ribbons. Their skin was the colour of cinnamon bark and many had strange symbols and patterns cut into their flesh. The old wives would say this proved them to be in league with the devil, but Red refused to listen to such scurrilous nonsense, and anyway, even if it was true it only excited her further to chance her luck with such dangerous men.
On one particularly hot day, Little Red went to the men damp with sweat and clutching a cloth-wrapped cheese and a newly baked loaf to her chest. The leader of the group, a particularly handsome man with sapphire-blue eyes, rippling chest muscles and brass rings in his ears, thanked her in an accent so thick Red thought he might have come from the moon, and went on to say that, as she looked in need of a drink, they would be honoured if she stayed for a while and shared a draft of their ale.
Red had immediately thought to say, ‘Thank you, no,’ in the knowledge that her father disapproved highly of ladies who drank alcohol, but the beer looked ever so inviting, and as she watched one of the men pour it from a small oak barrel into enormous clay jugs, she found herself wetting her lips and offering an accidental, ‘Yes please, that would be very nice,’ instead.
In words she could make no sense of the leader quickly instructed one of his comrades to bring over a mug, and being the thirsty girl that she was, she immediately knocked back an enormous draught, only to then cough and spit it out through the shock of such a bitter taste. This caused the travellers to hoot with laughter and Red, thoroughly shamed, had half a mind to run away. But with a kind smile the leader held up his hand and told the men not to be so rude to their guest, before explaining that she must not gulp down ale in the same way she might enjoy her milk. He then went on to teach her to take small sips and to hold the liquid against the back of her mouth rather than at the front, and soon enough Little Red was drinking down the beer as though she had done so for years.
Before she reached the bottom her mug was refilled, and while they ate and drank together the men regaled Red with tales of their homeland. Red’s mug was filled a third time, and as one particularly jolly fellow danced a side-splittingly funny jig, she noticed just how wonderfully fuzzy and fluffy the world now appeared. She told the men all about their reputation within the village, and they just laughed and agreed that it was probably quite fair. But she didn’t think so at all; she thought them to be fine gentlemen for sharing their refreshments with her, and she gladly accepted another fill of the ale.
In time the leader asked her why on earth she was wearing so many clothes on such a hot day, and with a foolish grin Red threw out an arm to strike him across the chest. She told him not to be so stupid, as in a blouse and skirt she could not possibly be wearing any less. The man furrowed his brow and questioned why not, as where he and his friends came from it was just as normal for a lady to remove her shirt beneath the heat of the sun as it was for a man. Through hooded eyes Little Red giggled at the idea, and taking another sip from her mug, she proceeded to furnish herself with an enormous frothy moustache, much to the amusement of her newfound friends.
‘That’s just shilly,’ she slurred. ‘You’re telling fibs.’ But the men quickly assured her that it was absolutely the truth.
After yet another top-up, and the men pressing the idea on her further, Red hazily began to think that it actually wasn’t such a strange idea for a young lady such as she to remove her blouse, as it really was a very hot day. Apart from anything, if it was what the womenfolk did where the travellers came from then where could possibly be the harm?
With a final few charmed words of encouragement from the men, she agreed that it would be nice to feel the breeze against her shoulders, and so she set about unbuttoning her blouse, an act that had once seemed so simple yet for some reason was now fraught with difficulty. Soon enough, however, and with the kind help of the leader, Red’s shirt was removed and she sat as naked from the waist up as any there. It felt a little strange to begin with, to expose her breasts to a group of men, but she reminded herself that it was quite normal where they came from, and besides, they were all extremely complimentary, declaring that Red’s could well be the finest pair they had ever set eyes on, and how pretty her nipples looked standing all rosy and pink.
As the last of the ale was shared out the leader, in a hushed tone, asked Red if she believed in magic, to which she hiccupped and replied, ‘Of coursh I don’t. Stories about magic are jusht for children.’ The men muttered amongst themselves disapprovingly, and one or two even went as far as to make strange gestures with their fingers against their foreheads. The handsome leader looked deep into Red’s eyes and told her that she should not talk about magic in such a way, as it was bad luck to do so. He explained that magic was all around them, in the wind, in the trees and even in the soil where they sat, and as if to prove his point, he quickly leaned forward, reaching a hand behind her ear and produced a shiny new penny, which he pressed into her palm.
Red was absolutely astounded and demanded he do it again, but he explained that such a gift was a sacred power and could only be used sparingly. He did offer to show her another enchantment, however, and making her stand with him he stepped back and muttered an incantation to the skies before quickly clapping his hands together twice, whereupon Red’s skirt dropped to the ground to leave her standing in her drawers only. The workers laughed and whistled, and in a way that Red thought rather cruel, but before she had time to decide whether she was affronted or not the leader apologised for his silly trick, offering her a white-toothed smile that had way more powerful an effect on her than any of his silly ‘magic’.
With a sudden frown he looked first to Little Red’s left shoulder and then to her right, declaring with genuine concern that her beautiful skin was burning beneath the heat of the sun, and looking down she could see that he wasn’t wrong. She suggested that she pull her blouse back on, but with a quick instruction to one of his men the leader told her that before she did so he had a soothing balm he should first apply.
Red had heard talk of the travellers’ skills with herbs, and she was intrigued to see what was inside the tiny cork-stoppered flagon the leader was quickly handed. He explained to her that it was a secret concoction known only to travellers, and was made from a blend of fine oils and a combination of rare and precious plant extracts that could soothe even the deepest of wounds. Holding the flagon up to her nose he encouraged her to inhale its scent, and taking a cautious sniff, Red discovered it gave off a strong yet not at all unpleasant aroma. The leader explained that although it might feel a little strange, a man touching her naked flesh, only a traveller versed in the ways of ancient medicine was allowed to apply such an ointment, and he stepped behind her without giving her chance to question him further.
Red gasped and tensed her muscles as she felt his fingers press against her shoulders, but she was quickly soothed by his soft words and the cool, fragrant balm, and he proceeded to carefully smooth it first one way and then the other. She couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his strong, calloused hands, as they moved lower to press into the tight muscles of her upper back, and the silk-like caress of the oil, and she closed her eyes and released a sigh of pure rapture.
Soon his fingers moved lower to rub the base of her spine, and then around her waist so that his palms ran across her belly. ‘Oh!’ Red gasped. ‘I... I think I’ll be fine now, thank you,’ but the leader only continued, allowing his hands to travel higher. She could feel his groin pressing into her bottom, his strong arms enveloping her from behind, and she felt powerless to resist, even though she knew well that she should. She gasped and arched her back, pressing against his strong chest as his fingers began to stroke around the lower curve of her breasts.
‘No really, please...’ she panted, as his cupped palms moved up to smooth the salve directly over her nipples. His mouth was against her ear and it caused a shiver to run the length of her spine as he whispered in that thick, seductive accent that she should just relax and allow the ointment to work its magic. And swallowing hard Red did just that, whereupon he began to repeatedly pull her nipples with fingers and thumbs and in a way that would probably have hurt had it not been for the slippery nature of the oil, and as a result, it only felt good.
Red could picture how her nipples would look – she’d seen them that way many times from her own teasing – but she dared not open her eyes to witness it for herself.
The handsome traveller began to run his hands all over her breasts, lifting and squeezing until they were thoroughly coated in the balm. Red felt certain that it must be wrong to allow a stranger to touch her in such a way, but she kept on reassuring herself that he was a medicine man and was simply tending to her slightly burnt flesh. But as she felt his hands slide lower once more, down over her flat stomach, as she felt a gentle tug at the bow holding up her drawers, she could no longer kid herself that all was quite so innocent.
‘No!’ she gasped through a dry throat as she felt her underwear slip down her thighs. Her eyes flashed open and she saw how the men had closed in around her, and that they were grinning and wetting their lips as though presented with a wonderful feast. She felt one of the leader’s strong arms close tight around her waist while the other slipped down between her thighs. She made an attempt to pull away, but he held her so tightly and again he whispered that all was well and that she should simply enjoy the effects of the soothing oil. And she wanted to believe him, but the look on the other men’s faces told her a different story, and as a finger pressed firmly and she felt her pussy lips begin to separate she drew a breath to protest, when all of a sudden a shout came from the back of the group.
Red was immediately released, and she looked down to see first her drawers and then her skirt being quickly pulled back up her legs. Her blouse was draped around her shoulders and her arms thrust through its sleeves without so much as a trace of the careful caresses she’d experienced just a moment before. With a final hiss against her ear she was told that her father was on his way, and that if he was to catch her with the men he would have her guts for garters. And with a quick slap of the arse she was told to run, and to come back and see them again very soon.
So on unsteady legs Red dashed away to the woods at the edge of her father’s land, clumsily trying to fasten the buttons of her blouse as she went.
When later she returned to the farmhouse, having slept off the effects of the ale in a hollow at the foot of an old oak tree, it was to a monumental scolding from her father. Under threat of a lashing he demanded to know where she’d been and what she’d been up to, whereupon she explained that having served the workers their refreshment she felt so flushed with the heat that she headed off to the creek for a dip. Both shocked and impressed by how easily she could lie, she went on to say how she must have fallen asleep through the heat of the afternoon sun and promised to make up for the chores she’d missed ten times over. Her father grudgingly accepted her apology, but with a suspicious glance he told her she was no longer permitted to take lunch out to the travellers.
Later that night, as the moonlight streamed in through her open bedroom window, Red lay awake realising how stupid she’d been to be tricked so easily, and what a lucky escape she’d had. But at the same time she could not stop her fingers from sliding down to you-know-where, to rub her clit while she imagined the men in the field and what they might have done to her naked body had things turned out only a little differently.
And so, dear reader, you will now expect me to tell you that Little Red’s experience with the travellers taught her a valuable lesson, but alas that is something I am unable to convey. If anything, that experience only added to her frustration and encouraged her to behave just as badly as ever. Only a few days later saw her explaining to the neighbouring farm lads how she fully intended to take a trip to the creek for a bathe later that afternoon as the mountain water worked wonders on her hair. Inevitably, and not terribly subtly, the young men followed on behind, but upon reaching the creek she discovered that it was already taken by the baker’s wife and her two fat brats. Red kicked at the dry earth angrily as she would now have to forgo her little tease, until it occurred to her that the Foss was only another half a mile or so upstream, and so with no little annoyance she continued on her way, turning every so often to check that her young trackers were still in tow, yet giving them just enough time to dive behind the nearest gorse bush or rock.
The Foss was a small waterfall at the very edge of the old forest. The water was much cooler here as it was deeper, and had little chance to have been warmed by the sun, but for a strong swimmer such as Red it was a wonderful spot for a dip. And no sooner had she arrived at its banks than she peeled off her clothes and dived in.
Red slipped through the water like a little otter, gasping from the cold each time she came up for air. After a short while she climbed carefully across the slippery rocks at the base of the fall, while taking a casual look to see if her audience was still with her. At first she began to wonder if they’d given up and gone home, but soon enough she spotted them tucked away behind a fallen tree. She stood in the spray of the cascade, naked and utterly brazen. She rinsed the thick main of her hair in the fall, before pulling it back and allowing it to slap in a thick rope between her shoulders.
She eventually dived back into the pool, only to resurface on the far bank. Climbing from the water she felt utterly invigorated and even offered a silent thank you to the baker’s wife for her enforced change of plan. She wandered back up to where the lush meadow met with the big flat stones, before settling herself down in the soft grass.
After such a refreshing swim Red no longer really cared about the farm boys, but that did not stop her thoughts from inevitably turning to that one thing she wanted to experience more than anything else in the world, and she soon lay down on her back. The late afternoon sun warmed her naked flesh and she parted her thighs to accept its caress more intimately still. A gentle breeze teased the beaded moisture upon her milky flesh, and caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. She allowed one hand to trace across the soft contours of her body, and she liked what she found.
Now, although I may not have painted young Red in the best of possible lights, I should say that up until this point she had only ever displayed her body by way of a tease, and that she’d done so behind a certain, if poorly drawn, veil of innocence. On this occasion, however, Red’s display moved onto a whole new level, and well aware that she was being observed she began to touch herself, cautiously at first, but then with greater and greater abandon. She desperately needed to experience a man, and as she lay there in the grass, frigging her poor neglected pussy for all it was worth, she only wished that those two stupid boys would come down and just take her.
She would have made it so easy for them. Obviously she would protest and she would struggle, but she would not have fought hard and if questions were asked she would have said it was hard to tell with the sun being so low in the sky. But she’d chosen farm boys for her prey, and boys they clearly were, as despite the fact that she was lying naked and fucking herself with two fingers neither dared to join her, to give her what she truly desired.
Little did she know, but on that fateful afternoon, when she finally brought herself to a shuddering climax, her little performance was not only being enjoyed by the two farm boys crouched with cocks in fists behind the fallen tree. No, not at all. There was another watching that day, and he was every bit the real man she dreamed of. He was big, he was strong and he was dangerous, but Red knew not that he was there.
A moment later, as she tried to steady her breathing, her fingers still held tight between her pussy lips, a great howl shattered the lazy afternoon silence of the forest, and suddenly startled she hurriedly dressed and dashed off home without so much as a glance to see if the farm boys were behind her.
Later that afternoon, while Red helped her mother prepare a stew for supper, she casually asked the question that had been troubling her since she scurried back down the hill from the Foss. ‘Mother,’ she began, ‘are there wolves in the old forest?’
Her mother laughed. ‘Of course not, you silly thing. The wolves were all driven back into the mountains many years ago.’
‘But I could have sworn I heard one this afternoon,’ Red said, pausing halfway through chopping a carrot and furrowing her brow.
Her mother continued to stir the broth on the stove before going on with a smile. ‘Well perhaps you didn’t hear a wolf dear, but you heard the Wolf.’
This only added to Little Red’s confusion, and she looked at her mother with a frown. ‘But I thought you said...’
‘The Wolf is not actually a real wolf, although one or two old crones with too much time on their hands will gladly tell you that during the full-moon he will take on the shape of a giant beast and come stalking into the village looking for a young virgin to take back to his lair.’
Red looked at her mother through wide eyes, both terrified and excited by the tale. ‘But, but is he real, have you seen him?’ she quickly asked, and her mother looked wistfully into her steaming pot before going on.
‘Oh, he’s real all right, but he’s no more magical than you or I. I saw him once when you were just a little girl. I was taking a pie and an arrangement of flowers over to the church in readiness for Harvest Festival, and your father had asked me to stop by Jameson’s to pick up a new axe handle he’d ordered. I was in the store asking the old man how his daughter was getting on with her new babe, when suddenly the door burst open and it seemed as though all daylight had been sucked from the room.’
Little Red felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
‘The look of terror on Jameson’s face was an absolute picture, and it was enough to have me quickly spinning round to see who, or what, had just entered. And there he stood, towering over me with a good six or seven deer skins slung beneath an arm as though they were no heavier than a basket of strawberries.’
‘But what was he like?’ Red excitedly implored. ‘Was he handsome?’
Red’s mother smiled to herself before continuing. ‘Yes, you could definitely call him handsome, but perhaps not in the traditional way. He looked big and strong like a real man should. You could see why they called him the Wolf, as his hair was rather shaggy and more grey than black. He can’t have shaved in over a week as his beard was thick, but for three long lines running diagonally across one cheek where no bristle would grow. I’ve heard it said that they were scars gifted to him by the last lone wolf to roam the forest, when they came across each other one moonlit night and were forced to fight for dominion. He wears an enormous fur cloak on his back too, and some claim it is the hide of that very same beast.’ She stared dreamily into the steam rising from the pot. ‘His eyes were more animal than human, too, as they were a very pale blue, and the way he looked at me gave me the unnerving impression he was sizing me up, seeking out my weaknesses, and it caused my poor heart to skip a beat.’
‘What did he say?’ Red pressed eagerly.
‘Nothing; I didn’t give him chance to. To my shame I simply ran from the shop, forgetting father’s axe handle completely.
‘But there’s a lot of nonsense spoken about the Wolf if you ask me,’ she continued. ‘I’d say he’s just a man who prefers his own company, and who can blame him for that? But either way he’s different to folk round here, and that makes him dangerous. Some say he keeps a cottage deep in the forest, but I’ve never known anyone who’s ever seen it.
‘Anyway, young lady,’ Red’s mother went on, turning and facing her daughter with hands on hips, ‘what were you doing near the old forest that you might, or might not, have heard a wolf howl?’
Red quickly turned and applied herself once more to her chopping. ‘Oh, nothing,’ she said with all the bluff innocence she could muster. ‘I... I just went up to the Foss for a quick dip.’
‘Well you mind what your father’s told you about going near that forest,’ mother scolded. ‘There’s bad men and wild beasts in there would like nothing more than to chomp on a pretty little thing like you.’
‘Yes, mother,’ Red dutifully replied, and her mother stroked a palm across her cheek.
‘You’re a good girl really, Little Red,’ she sighed, offering her a smile of pure affection. ‘But I do smell trouble with you. Now, come on; we’d best get on and finish this stew before the men get back all hungry and in need of feeding.’
That night Red dreamt of a great wolf stalking through the farmyard, its wet nose sniffing at the ground as it searched for fresh meat. She instinctively knew it was her it was hunting, and as it raised its shaggy mane and offered a howl to the moon she suddenly awoke, heart racing and drenched in sweat, to hear what she could swear was the last of a beastly cry echoing down across the valley floor.
That following Sunday, like every Sunday, Little Red and her family pulled on their finest clothes and headed up to the church. In Red’s case this meant she was wearing a beautiful white linen dress embroidered, by her own fair hand, with pretty spring flowers. She loved that dress dearly, but it really was far too small for her now, and as she respectfully sang the chosen hymns she found herself in grave danger of bursting out of it every time she took a breath, thus very nearly offering the congregation a practical lesson in the sins of the flesh.
The vicar’s sermon was as mind-numbingly boring as usual, and in order to entertain herself Red took to crossing and uncrossing her legs in front of the altar boys, giggling to herself as she watched them fail in their duties because of their staring.
Once the service was over Red couldn’t wait to get back to the farm to tuck into lunch, but her mother quickly poured cold water on that particular plan by telling her that she had just received word that grandmother had been taken ill and that Red was now charged with the task of taking a basket of provisions to her cottage. Little Red moaned and complained bitterly, but her mother scolded her for being such a selfish girl, yet went on to assure her that there would be an extra large portion of pudding set aside for her return.
Back at the farm Red was about to go change into something more comfortable for the journey when mother told her just how pretty she looked in her Sunday best, and that it would warm granny’s heart no end to see her favourite grandchild so well turned out. Handing her a basket of goodies she instructed her to pick a bunch of wild flowers along the road, and with a quick peck on the cheek she sent her on her way.
But just as Red scuffed her feet up the dusty path her mother called out to her once more. ‘Oh, and don’t you be taking any shortcuts through the forest, young lady, you hear? You keep by the road!’
Now, on this particular Sunday there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky, the sun beat down without remorse, and it wasn’t long before Red felt the first beads of sweat gather in the shadow between her breasts. To make matters worse, she had foolishly pulled on a particularly itchy pair of drawers that morning, and through the heat of the day they began to chafe her delicate thighs. Soon she couldn’t take it any more, and with an exasperated squeal and a stomp of her foot she stopped still and dropped the basket to the ground. She looked first up the road and then back down the way she had come, and seeing there was not a soul in sight, she quickly slipped off her underwear and stuffed them into the basket. The sense of relief as she continued on her way was monumental, and she found herself rather enjoying the sensation of what little breeze there was as it teased its way beneath her rather short dress.
Half a mile or so further on Red found herself at a point in the road where it met with the southernmost tip of the forest. It wasn’t far off midday now, and the sun had climbed almost directly above her. She gave the trees a sideways glance as her mother’s warning words came back to her, and with a sigh she stomped ever onwards. Red knew well that the road swept east all the way around the edge of the forest, and that with granny living on the most north-westerly point she would be adding a good half-hour, at least, to her journey by following its course. Again she took a look to the left, and could see how wonderfully shaded it looked beneath the pines and the birches as their branches spread out above the forest floor. Yet even then she remained mindful of her mother’s instruction, and kicking at a loose stone she forged on.
The sun was excruciatingly hot now and poor Red mopped her sweat-slick forehead with her forearm. She was starting to feel rather hungry too, and dearly wished she’d brought along something to eat. There were granny’s provisions, of course, but the poor old dear was ill and it would have been quite wrong of her to help herself to them. And so, finally deciding that desperate times called for desperate measures, she looked quickly up and down the road once more before she quickly ducked away and climbed beneath the wonderful shelter of the trees.
She had to backtrack just a little across the soft, needle-strewn ground, but she found the path quickly enough and it wasn’t long before she was so deep within the forest that the dusty road and the baking sun were no longer in her thoughts.
It was certainly dark beneath the boughs of the trees, and Red considered that a person of a nervous disposition might well be feeling a little scared right about now, but she reminded herself that she was a brave girl and pushed on without regret.
A short while later the path opened out onto a clearing carpeted with cornflower, poppy, daisy and flax. Red thought it to be just about the most enchanting place she had ever seen, and heeding her mother’s words, if only this once, she quickly set about picking a huge bunch of flowers for her grandmother. She picked and she picked, congratulating herself on being so clever as to find such a place, bending low from the waist and neglecting to consider that she was wearing such a short dress, and with a bare behind too! But why on earth should she care, as she was so clearly alone?
‘Well, that’s a pretty little posy, I must say,’ came a deep, rumbling voice from behind her, and poor Red nearly jumped out of her skin with fright. She immediately stood upright and spun round to see a man sat right behind her, with his enormous back set against an old oak tree. He was casually whittling away at a piece of wood with a pointed blade, and she just stared, absolutely certain that he hadn’t been there a moment before. Even though he was sitting the man looked like a giant to Little Red, and she noticed that, despite the heat of the day, he was wrapped in a wolf skin cloak. She looked closer still and saw that his hair was grey-black in colour, and that his cheeks and jaw were heavily stubbled, but for three diagonal lines scored deep into his flesh. She stared into his milky-blue eyes and swallowed awkwardly as she realised exactly who this stranger must be.
‘So what brings a pretty little thing like you into the forest, where a big bad wolf could come and gobble you all up?’ the man mocked with a wry smile, his knife continuing to slice long, curling shavings from the wood as though it was no harder than a stick of butter.
‘Um, I’m going to my granny’s house,’ Red replied meekly, suddenly aware of just how little she was wearing, and she dipped her head and pulled her dress tight against her naked thighs.
‘Well the forest’s a dangerous place for a beautiful young lady to be walking. Just you make sure you stick to the path,’ he advised.
‘Are those flowers for granny?’ he asked, to which Red anxiously nibbled her lower lip and nodded her head in response. ‘What a kind young lady you are. Your granny is very lucky indeed to have a caring granddaughter such as you.’ His voice was as smooth and as seductive as honeycomb drenched in cream. ‘But please,’ he continued, ‘it was rude of me to stop you while you’re at work. Do continue.’
Red looked down at the bunch of flowers she clutched to her breasts like a bride on her wedding day. ‘I... I think I’m done now,’ she offered, in a voice barely more than a whisper.
‘Oh, come now, Little Red, I’m sure you love your granny very much and would want her to have a particularly wonderful gift. Look just in front of you, there’s a flush of larkspur that would look quite enchanting in amongst that posy.’
Red furrowed her brow. ‘H-how do you know my name?’ she asked nervously.
‘I know many things, Little Red, but you shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve travelled far and I’ve travelled wide, and have often heard talk of a beautiful young woman with hair as rich as an autumn sunset, with features as smooth and as delicate as a song bird’s egg...’ he paused to slowly run his eyes over her body, in a way that caused her to release an involuntary shiver despite the heat of the day, ‘...and with a form more comely than any maid within three counties. And you know what? No matter how far or how wide I wander, there is only ever one name attached to this creature of legend. They call her...’ he said, offering a dramatic pause, ‘Little Red.
‘But perhaps I am wrong,’ he continued, in a much more casual tone, ‘and you are not the young lady I have heard spoken of?’
Red, utterly consumed by pride, suddenly blurted, ‘No, I mean yes, I mean that’s me, yes, my name is Little Red.’
‘Of course you are and of course it is,’ the man replied with a smile. ‘And do you know what they call me?’
Red dipped her head once more, hardly daring to reply. ‘Are... are you the Wolf?’ she said, to which the man guffawed loudly, causing a brace of wood pigeon to suddenly take flight and for poor Red to jump once more. But he just offered her a gentle bow of his head and said that she was quite right, and it was a pleasure to make her acquaintance.
‘Now,’ he said after a slight pause, ‘about that larkspur...’
Red looked down at the tiny blue flowers at her feet. The Wolf was quite right, they would look very pretty in granny’s posy, but in that dress she was not at all sure she could pick them without compromising her modesty rather severely. ‘I think I have enough flowers now, sir,’ she said, but the man’s expression suddenly darkened and she felt chilled as though a thunder cloud had passed over the sun.
‘Go ahead and pick them,’ he instructed softly.
‘But...’
‘Pick them,’ he said again, only this time in a tone accompanied by a strange, guttural growl. Slowly Red began to squat down onto her haunches. ‘No, not like that,’ he said. ‘Pick them just as you were doing before.’ And in the full knowledge that she would expose herself so badly if she obeyed, yet not daring to discover what he might do to her if she didn’t, she turned to face away and proceeded to bend from the waist.
Poor Little Red’s heart raced as she felt the hem of her tiny dress begin to ride up her smooth thighs. The larkspur grew on a slight slope that fell away before her, and try as she might there was no way on earth that she could reach down to them without the need to bend even lower still. Red blushed to the sensation of the soft linen pulled tight against the swell of her hips, and she gasped as it suddenly slid up further to reveal the curve of her peachy round bottom. She knew she was fully exposed now, that her pussy was his to observe, nestled as it was between her thighs, and her chest heaved as she began to quickly pull at the flowers while waiting for the Wolf to make his next move.
A moment passed in silence, however, followed by another and then another until finally she drew enough courage to straighten up and to turn around once more – to discover herself to be all alone!
She looked left and she looked right in search of the brute of a man who had forced her to reveal herself so intimately, yet he was nowhere to be seen. She took just a second to catch her breath, before picking up her basket and thrusting her newly picked flowers inside and scurrying out of the clearing without daring to look back.
As she continued on her way she dwelled on her meeting with the Wolf. Part of her felt she must have been a very lucky young lady indeed, to have gotten away so lightly, but part of her felt rather affronted that he hadn’t seemed to want her in the same way other men so obviously did. She thought about what he must have been able to see as she bent low to pick the flowers, and wondered why he hadn’t tried to take advantage of her. After all, it couldn’t be every day that a girl as pretty as she was found wandering alone in the forest.
The more Red thought about it the more confused she became. The Wolf had indicated himself how pretty she was, and she knew just how much the boys liked to look at her naked body, so why hadn’t he wanted her too? She stomped along the path, staring at the ground and feeling her disquiet growing with every step she took.
It was the smell that first caused her to look up and take stock of her surroundings. Red had quite forgotten about her hunger, but that wonderful aroma of simmering vegetables, wild herbs and possibly even a little meat drifting through the trees brought it back to her with a vengeance. With rumbling stomach she looked one way and then the other, until she spotted a tiny wisp of blue-grey smoke drifting up through the trees, and immediately she set off towards it. It was not easy going, away from the path, and she stumbled against tangled roots and sharp brambles as she made her way onward. She pushed further and further on, avoiding stinging nettles as best she could, until finally she staggered into a small clearing where she discovered the origin of that enchanting smell.
An old iron pot hung from a chain attached to a wooden tripod above a crackling camp fire, and bubbling away within it was what Red thought to be the most wonderfully fragrant stew she had ever seen.
‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Is anyone here?’ She turned through every point of the compass, calling out a greeting each time, yet no reply came. Still her stomach rumbled and she offered a tiny prayer that the owner of the wonderful food was close by, and that he or she might be willing to share a little of it with her. Leaning over the pot she stirred with the wooden ladle standing in it. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, identifying wild garlic, sorrel, potatoes and yes, even a little game. Poor Red’s belly ached and she called out once more, but again there was no reply.
She knew well that it would be quite wrong for her to simply help herself, but she still had some way to go before reaching granny’s house, and as it was such a large pot... and perhaps if she were only to take a little... and maybe whoever had made it wouldn’t mind anyway...
It was no good, the smell wafting up from the stew was as powerful as the darkest of dark magic, and so Red lifted the ladle from the pot and raised it to her lips. She blew against the steaming broth and tried her very best to be patient while it cooled, but when she felt as though she might burst if she didn’t try just a little, she took a tentative sip and promptly burnt the tip of her tongue.
Despite this, in that instant she felt sure that she’d never tasted anything quite so spectacular, and she soon wolfed down an entire ladle-full before dipping it back into the pot for a second helping, then a third, and then a fourth until finally she felt as stuffed as a goose on Christmas day. It was just then, when she released an accidental and somewhat unladylike belch of satisfaction, that she heard a twig crack underfoot and with a gasp she spun around to see a man walking slowly towards her.
‘Please sir,’ she gabbled anxiously, ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I was just passing by and I—!’
Poor Red squealed as her arms were twisted and forced up behind her back. She tried to turn around in order to discover exactly who had grabbed her, but she was held so tightly and it was simply too painful for her to move. She wrestled herself forward, but it was useless and she could only cry, ‘Hey!’ as she felt her wrists being bound tightly together with a thin cord of some description. She was in terrible trouble, and she knew it.
She looked up once more at the man who continued to step closer and closer towards her, and noticed how he was smiling, yet not in a friendly way. He didn’t at all look like a kindly gentleman disposed to sharing his food with a hungry stranger. He was dressed as a hunter, tall, wiry and sharp of feature. She took in his narrow eyes and pointed nose, and decided she did not like the look of him at all.
‘Well, well, just look what we’ve got ‘ere, brother,’ he sneered, and Red gasped as the man who’d grabbed her from behind stepped into view to take a good look at her. He had the exact same rodent-like features as the other, only his mop of hair was a shade lighter and he stood an inch or two shorter. Where the first reminded her of a weasel, the second was more akin to a rat.
‘Indeed, brother,’ the second man replied with a thin, reedy voice. ‘And I thought we’d had a good morning trapping those three conies, but it looks as though we’ve caught us a little thief. And a pretty one at that.’
‘Oh no, sirs, please,’ Red implored, turning from one to the other. ‘You quite misunderstand. I’m not a thief at all. I was just on my way to granny’s house when I couldn’t help but smell your delicious stew. I did try to see if someone was here, honest I did, but...’ Poor Red’s heart pounded in her chest. She considered making a bolt for it, but she wasn’t completely stupid and knew she’d not get far with her hands being tied so tightly behind her back.
‘Well if you’re not a thief,’ began weasel-features, ‘I suppose you’re planning to pay us for that stew what you stole?’
‘Yes, yes of course,’ she quickly replied. ‘Only, I’ve got no coin, but,’ she was quickly interrupted by the shorter brother before she could explain herself further.
‘So you ain’t got no money, but you still took what’s not yours. I don’t know about you, brother, but I call that stealin’.’
The weasel slowly nodded his agreement while looking Red up and down, in a way she did not like one little bit. ‘Well, my pretty little thing,’ he mused, scratching his whiskered chin, ‘if you’ve got no coin you’d better have another way to pay us, ain’t you?’
‘Oh, I can think of another way, brother,’ the other said, with a wicked glint in his eye.
Red watched as ratty picked up the basket intended for granny and began to rifle through its contents without due care or respect. ‘Flowers,’ he sneered, tossing the newly picked posy to the ground. ‘No good to me. How about you, brother; they’d look lovely in your hair.’ The taller one just sniggered in response. ‘Apples and pears?’ ratty said, pulling out a checked cloth tied with a string. ‘Nice enough, but we can scrump as many o’ those as we want. Oh wait!’ he suddenly announced, and Red looked up eagerly, hoping with all her heart that he had finally found something to repay her debt. ‘A fruit loaf,’ he said, pulling it from the basket and sniffing it with his pointed nose. ‘Mmm, walnut and plum, if I’m not mistaken. One o’ my favourites.’
‘Yes!’ Red declared. ‘Everyone says mother’s fruit loaf is the best in the village. Take it, take it please.’
But the man just tossed it to the ground and laughed. ‘I think not,’ he said, fixing her with his beady eyes. ‘But hold on,’ he gasped, looking once more into the basket. ‘What do we ‘ave hear then? Now this I do like.’
Red watched in horror as he slowly produced her undergarments from within, stretching them out between grubby little hands. The weasel laughed cruelly and Red felt her cheeks flush with the shame of it all.
‘Well,’ ratty went on, looking her up and down and wetting his lips. ‘When I say “I like”, I mean I like what is usually all wrapped up in such a pretty little package.’
Red took a stumbling step back as he made a move towards her. ‘No, no please,’ she implored as he suddenly reached out and yanked her skirt up to reveal her naked pussy.
‘Now that I like very much,’ he drawled, and before Red had a chance to resist he lunged so that his shoulder slammed into her stomach and she felt herself lifted entirely from the ground. Poor Red tried to struggle but with her hands tied behind her back there was only so much she could do.
‘The fallen tree, brother!’ the weasel cried excitedly, clapping his hands together and hopping from one foot to the other, and Red felt herself being carried to where a fallen pine lay on the ground. In no time at all she was flipped over and draped facedown across the curve of the trunk.
‘No, please,’ she wailed, flailing her legs as she felt her dress being pulled up again and her bare buttocks left exposed to their lecherous stares. One of the wicked huntsmen clawed at her ankles and prised her thighs apart, and Red whimpered at the appalling nature of her predicament.
‘Well, well, brother,’ ratty said. ‘That is a pretty little one, but no more than a fair trade for our stew, I say. Now, the question is which ‘ole do I try first?’
Red sobbed at her wretched state, salty tears spilling down to the forest floor as she lay there awaiting her fate. It was ridiculous; she might have longed to feel a man inside her, but not such an awful one as either of the two disgusting brothers, and not in such a humiliating way.
‘Go fetch the goose fat,’ he instructed his taller sibling. ‘This one’s so young and tender I think it may need a little greasing first.’
Red begged they release her one last time but her protests fell on deaf ears, and then she shrieked with shock, lifting herself up as best she could on stomach muscles alone, as a slippery finger made contact with that most secret of little holes.
‘This one first, I think,’ sneered the rat of a man viciously. ‘It’s been an age since I’ve found a whore willing to give me her most prized possession. Why don’t you go make use o’ that pretty mouth of hers, brother? And if she so much as dares to use her teeth we’ll pull ‘em out one by one.’
‘No!’ Red pleaded to the sight of the sneering weasel stepping before her and loosening the thick belt at his waist. She watched, utterly disgusted, as he drew down his breeches and released his bloated cock. ‘Please,’ she begged, but he just grinned a gap-toothed grin and leant forward to wind a filthy fist in Red’s silky hair, wrenching her head up and back so that she was forced to gasp through the pain and offer her open mouth to him.
The sun was above and behind him now, and because of the tears that stung her eyes she could not easily make out the scene before her, but just as she felt the tip of his cock press against her parted lips, just when she felt something bigger than a fingertip touch the secret entrance to her arsehole – and all for a few ladles of stew – she saw a huge silhouette suddenly rise up before her. With an almighty thud Red felt the weasel’s fist suddenly relax its grip on her hair. She looked harder through squinted eyes, but he just stood there with a blank expression on his face, swaying gently from side to side before his knees gave way and he collapsed in a heap on the ground.
Unlike his vile brother, ratty was given advance warning of his fate and offered a pathetic, high-pitched, ‘No, please, we were just playin’...!’ before he too was silenced with an awful, bone-crunching thud, followed by a thump as he joined his brother on the ground.
Red sniffed away the last of her tears as she listened to what sounded like two sacks of potatoes being dragged through the undergrowth, before she once more heard a familiar voice behind her. ‘What did I tell you about sticking to the path, you foolish child?’ came the deep, rumbling voice of the Wolf, and it was clear to hear that he was angry.
‘I-I know,’ she blubbed, ‘but...’
‘Let’s have no more of your excuses, young lady. You might think you’re all grown up now, but you’re clearly still in need of a good lesson in respecting the advice of your elders.’ And with that Red cried out as she felt the enormous flat of his palm come slapping down upon her naked backside. The pain was like none she had known before and she squealed and thrashed with her legs, but the Wolf merely held them in place with a single hand before smacking her again, and this time even harder still.
‘Ouch! Ow! Please!’ she begged, but the big bad Wolf just ignored her, raining down spank after spank upon her poorly abused bottom. With each loud slap Red would cry out and try to lift herself away, yet there was nowhere for her to go, what with her wrists bound so tightly and with her body draped over that old tree. Each stinging contact of palm against flesh caused her to tense and release the muscles of her backside, in a way that forced her most intimate of areas to grind into the gnarled bark of the pine beneath her. ‘Please!’ she implored again and again.
‘You’re a stupid girl, Little Red,’ he chastised, striking her with upward strokes now, in a way that lifted both cheeks with every stinging contact. ‘Is this really what you wanted?’ he questioned. ‘To have your body used by vermin like those two?’ Red’s tears spilt over once more.
The Wolf’s punishment was relentless and her sensitive skin burnt like she’d sat on an ant’s nest, but then a peculiar thing began to happen; Little Red noticed that with each spank came a second, equally powerful sensation elsewhere within her. It was a feeling she knew well and it thoroughly confused her that it should present itself now. Perhaps it stemmed from a sense of relief that she’d been saved from such an awful fate. Maybe it came from the knowledge that she remained so utterly vulnerable and that her saviour could now simply take her as his reward.
But deep down she knew there was more to it than that, as this unexpected feeling always accompanied the pain elicited by the Wolf’s hand and was entirely physical in nature. Poor Red gritted her teeth and gasped with the bittersweet pleasure of her spanking.
‘So would it have made you happy, Little Red? Would you have enjoyed having those two men take it in turns to use your body as they pleased? And oh, how they would have enjoyed you, Little Red.’
‘No, please!’ Red gasped as she felt the tip of a finger press against her grease-smeared rear hole.
‘Well is that not what you wanted? Because surely only a simple girl would wander away from the path if it was not trouble she desired.’ With each smack Red felt the ring of muscle around her anus twitch against his finger, and in a way that somehow only added to her strange desire.
She squirmed against the tree trunk in an attempt to dislodge his finger, yet in doing so she only succeeded in parting her thighs that little bit wider and accidentally forced him to enter her, just a little way. ‘Stop it, please!’ she begged, but with nowhere near enough conviction.
‘What’s that, Little Red, you want me to stop?’ he mocked, continuing to spank her. ‘Perhaps you should have thought about that before you entered the forest. Perhaps you should have thought about that before you started showing off your pretty body.’
Little Red sniffed and sobbed with self-pity, then suddenly her mouth opened and she gasped, tensing her stomach muscles as she felt his greasy finger slide lower to run against her slit.
‘You know what,’ he taunted, ‘I think you’re enjoying this. Maybe I arrived too soon and I should have left you to the hard fucking you would have received from those two. Let’s see if that’s what you secretly desired, shall we?’ and all of a sudden the Wolf pressed his finger against Red’s entrance and slid it all too easily within.
‘Noooo!’ she cried. Of course she hadn’t wanted those awful brothers to make use of her like that, but there was no denying her arousal now as the brute Wolf withdrew his finger and proceeded to rub her pussy lips, smearing them with her own wetness while continuing to spank her over and over again.
‘See, Red,’ he teased, pressing a knuckle to her clit and rubbing with a circular motion. ‘You are a bad girl, aren’t you? And you’re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble one of these days. Who knows, perhaps today will be that day.’
With a final slap that caused Red to squeal indignantly he stepped away.
All was silent and she remained utterly still while she felt his knife slice through the bonds around her wrists. She carefully moved her aching arms forwards until they too lay draped over the tree trunk, using her fingers to soothe where the cruel cord had bitten into her flesh.
She awaited the next inevitable phase of her punishment to begin, certain that he would now take advantage of her young body as it lay over the tree; certain he would finally fuck her ruthlessly for being the foolish girl she so clearly was. Yes, she was nervous, but she would not resist him; it was only fair that he take his prize as he’d saved her from an awful ordeal, but as she craned her neck back, as she slowly lifted herself upright, wiping the remnants of her tears against the back of a hand, as she stood and turned around, she discovered that once again the Wolf was gone.
She could see the two awful brothers, sitting on the ground back-to-back. They were bound together with a length of hemp rope, their breeches still gathered around their ankles, and they appeared to be fast asleep. Certainly not wishing to wake them she quickly straightened her dress, refilled her basket and headed back towards the forest path, kicking over the pot of stew that had caused all her trouble in the first place.
Poor Little Red. She’d been taught a cruel lesson that deep down even she knew she deserved, but it left her frustrated and wanting with a burning intensity the like of which she had never known.
As she stomped her way along the path she decided that she hated the Wolf. Once again she questioned why on earth he hadn’t bothered to just take her. He could have done anything he wished and she would have been quite powerless to resist him. She wouldn’t even have told on him and it could have remained their secret, but oh no! Big, bad Wolf was too good for Little Red.
She marched ever onward, kicking at the undergrowth and angrily swatting at any fly that so much as dared to buzz within her reach, determined that she would ask the first woodsman she came across what he thought of her naked pussy. But alas, she met no one else.
Finally the trees began to thin and Red could see the meadow grass that lay beyond the forest, and just there, in the distance, a little red and white dot that was granny’s house.
‘Stupid wolf,’ she cursed to herself as she crossed open ground once more, feeling as though her poor body had been wound as tight as a drum. ‘I’ll show him who needs a lesson!’
As she made her way up the pretty garden path to granny’s front door she felt hot, sticky and angry. She gave a quick rap with her knuckles before entering without waiting for a reply. ‘Granny dear, where are you? It’s me, Little Red, and I’ve got some goodies for you,’ she called, trying to keep the frustration from her voice.
Granny’s cottage was made up of two rooms and stood on a single level only. Red was in the living room, which was made up of little more than a small area for preparing food, a table with two chairs, a stove and a rocking chair. She continued through to the rear of the cottage, calling out as she went, ‘Granny! Where are you?’ She checked the large bed, but it was empty and had been carefully made with fresh linen. A pretty little washstand stood on one side of the room and there was a small door leading out to the garden on the other, but wherever she turned there was absolutely no sign of her grandmother.
Red was beginning to worry, and went back to the living room, wondering where on earth the old dear could be. It was just then that she spotted a note upon the table. It was written in granny’s own unmistakeably spidery hand, and she leant over to read.
My dearest Little Red,
Supposing I do not pass you on the road, do please forgive me for not being home to greet you. I feel much better now and fancy a little trip out to the farm for lunch after all. Anyway, I will no doubt meet you on the way so this note is quite pointless, but should I not, I have asked a friend to stop by later to accompany you home.
All my Love
Granny
‘Grrrr!’ Little Red growled, stamping her foot on the wooden floorboards. ‘Stupid, old bat!’ she cursed, before striding back through to the bedroom.
In all her years she had never known a day turn out so badly, but as she looked at the large ceramic bowl upon the washstand she was at least pleased to see there was fresh water in it. Quickly kicking of her shoes and slipping out of her dress, she washed her hot and dusty body all over. The cool water felt good as it ran across her naked breasts, her stomach and on below. With a sigh she began to relax, just a little, and as her hand smoothed its way across the gentle swell of her belly, she thought back to her adventures of that afternoon. For the first time she accepted that she’d had a lucky escape, but she still felt a nagging hunger within, and her fingers slid down between her thighs, with the thought that she might finally satisfy it.
Just then, however, just as she was about to succumb to the gentle caresses of her fingers, and entirely without warning, the back door burst open and in stepped a giant of a man. Red yelped and took three stumbling steps backwards, draping an arm across her breasts and cupping a palm between her thighs in an attempt to cover herself up. In her shock she didn’t recognise him at first, as he was no longer wearing a cloak and he was clutching an enormous basket of newly chopped firewood tight to his chest.
‘You!’ Little Red shouted with anger when she finally realised who it was, to which the Wolf just offered a gentle bow by way of greeting, before he stepped still further into the room. ‘Why Grandma,’ she said, making absolutely no effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice, ‘what a lot of wood you have chopped.’
‘All the better to warm the cottage with Little Red,’ he replied breezily, striding beyond her and on through to the living area, where he set the firewood down by the stove. Red could see how he was stripped to the waist now, and the way his naked flesh was marked with several pink scars similar to those across his cheek.
She watched him stand upright and turn towards her, yet she made no attempt to get away, holding her ground as he took a stride towards her. ‘Why... grandma,’ she said again, slower and without really thinking of what she was saying, ‘what... what big muscles you have.’
The Wolf continued to pad slowly across the floor, fixing her in the grip of his milky-blue stare. ‘All the better to play with pretty girls like you,’ he replied, and all of a sudden she gasped to the sensation of his large hands pressing tightly around her waist. He lifted her from the floor as though she was no heavier than a sack of feathers and she cried out, kicking her legs as she was thrown back onto granny’s bed. As she lay there panting she gawped up at him, desperately trying to anticipate his next move, forgetting her naked condition. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved. She swallowed nervously at the sight of the Wolf stepping closer and closer. She had never seen a man who looked quite so strong, so powerful, and it both scared and excited her at the same time. She watched him run the fingers of one hand through his thick mane of hair, and he smirked as he looked down upon her. ‘Why, grandma,’ she quavered, ‘what... what big teeth you have.’
The Wolf suddenly pounced onto the mattress and growled, ‘All the better to eat you with,’ before wrenching her thighs wide apart with his hands. Little Red squealed with fear, and if he had proceeded to gobble her up like the beast he was she would not have been surprised at all. Yet while the stubble of his beard growth scratched a little against the soft flesh of her inner thighs, it was only the sensation of his tongue exploring every curve of her tight pussy that consumed her senses, and she clawed her fingernails at the eiderdown and threw back her head.
The Wolf lapped Little Red’s cunt with a voracious hunger. He was not slow and he certainly wasn’t tender, and from time to time he even took to nipping her flesh with his teeth, but only in a way that would cause her to tense without really hurting. Then she’d relax into the bed once more as the tip of his tongue sought her swollen clit, expertly flicking and rolling the tormented little bud.
Red had never known such bliss. It was frantic and it was animalistic and nothing at all like her fantasy of having a handsome farm lad gently lick her pussy while they hid from her father up in the hay loft. As you might well expect from a creature such as the Wolf, there was scarce place for tenderness and Red thrashed upon the bed, crying out over and over again.
‘Yessss!’ she hissed as she felt the tip of a finger work its way between her pussy lips to enter her, just a little way. She felt it curve against the contour of her body and work back and forth as he sucked her clit. He tongued her deeper now and in a way that caused her breath to catch and bolts of pure pleasure to shoot through her body. She gripped even tighter against the bed linen, dragging it up as she lifted her hips from the mattress to force her cunt harder against his jaw. ‘Oh my! Oh Goodness! Oh yes!’ she squealed, and finally she could take it no more and, crying out, collapsed under the weight of the most intense orgasm of her life.
With a shuddering sigh she relaxed and collapsed like a rag doll on the bed. She simply laid there, her head turned to one side, her eyes tightly shut and her breasts heaving as she desperately tried to steady her breath.
Eventually, as she felt a huge weight shift at the foot of the mattress, she opened her eyes to watch the Wolf lift himself away. She peered up at him shyly, not at all sure how one should respond after an experience so intimate, and so she remained silent. He stood at the foot of the bed with sturdy legs set apart, wiping his lips against the back of a hand as he stared down at her impassively. Red watched as he kicked off his boots, each one thudding noisily on the floorboards. She bit nervously at a fingernail while his hands worked at the big brass buckle at his waist. She felt her heartbeat quicken as he untied the leather thong that laced his deerskin breeches together, and finally, she gasped as he pulled them down his enormous thighs.
‘Oh, my!’ she gasped. ‘What a big... what a big cock you have...’
One corner of his mouth twitched into a smug smile before he replied, ‘All the better to fuck you with.’
Once again he knelt on the foot of the bed, his impressive shaft gripped tight within a fist. ‘But before I do, let’s see if that pretty mouth of yours is good for anything other than making excuses, shall we?’
Red didn’t know whether to be offended or not, but he towered over her and she was in no position to argue, even if she had wanted to. Slowly, and a little awkwardly, she climbed up onto her knees. She began by allowing her fingertips to run across his chest, and gasped at how hard it felt. She scratched her fingernails lower against the contours of his abdominal muscles, and then down to the thick thatch of hair below. Her hands continued further, until tentatively she took his balls in one palm and closed a fist around his stiff, throbbing cock. Little Red’s heart raced as she felt the considerable weight of his balls and how they tightened within her grip. She marvelled at just how smooth his stalk felt as she trailed soft fingertips lightly up and down. She was nervous, she had never performed such an act before, but she’d secretly watched many times, so with a last anxious shiver she leant down between his thighs.
She pressed her lips against the swollen, scarlet head of his prick. She only kissed it at first, tasting his sticky pre-cum on the tip of her tongue, before she took him a little deeper, opening her mouth wide to accommodate his significant girth. She began to suck with hollowed cheeks. She used her tongue to explore the thick ridge at the crown of his cock, her hand gripped tightly around it, her thumb and fingers unable to meet, such were his dimensions. The Wolf released a deep, rumbling growl from the back of his throat and Red looked up through wide eyes, scared that she might have done something wrong, but she saw by the way he held back his head, by the way he shut his eyes tightly, that she was almost certainly doing everything right.
In time she dared to take him a little deeper and work her hands on him too, drawing his foreskin back and forth with one while the other stroked the soft flesh beneath his balls. She listened to his every gasp and moan and tempered her ministrations accordingly, so that in no time at all he was grunting with a greater intensity. Little Red’s head bobbed up and down and despite the fact that her jaw was beginning to ache, she discovered her own arousal pulsating between her thighs once more. As she sucked and slurped on the Wolf’s enormous shaft she considered that soon she would feel it inside her, and although there was nothing she wanted more, the idea alone caused her heartbeat to race.
‘Mmm, you’re doing very well, Little Red,’ he purred as he wound his fists into her silky soft hair, pulling her still lower onto him and grinding his hips back and forth. Poor Red began to worry that she might choke if he dared to enter her any deeper, but it also felt strangely satisfying to be used solely for the pleasure of another. She felt his prick twitch and spasm within her mouth, and wondered if now would be her chance to experience a man spurting down her throat, but just as he released a rumbling growl of pleasure he lifted her startled face away and his thick cock, glistening with her saliva, plopped from her mouth completely.
The time had finally come, and like a giant beast stalking its prey the Wolf crawled over her on hands and knees, pressing his naked chest against her breasts so that she had no option but to lie back on the mattress, pinned between it and his considerable bulk. With one hand he parted her thighs wide, and she made no effort to resist him.
She gasped nervously as the tip of his cock touched the flushed swell of her mound. She felt him draw up and down, smearing it with her own moisture and lubricating the head before he settled it against her entrance. Slowly he began to push, and Little Red shut her eyes tight with fear, drawing short breaths as she felt her body begin to yield. Her pussy lips stretched wide around the swelling head of his prick, but for such a beast of a man he was remarkably gentle. He pulled back two or three times to allow her to relax a little. She had never felt anything quite like it as he pushed deeper and deeper with every forward movement, and at the point where she felt as though she’d be torn in two if she was stretched any further, when her head swam with a heady mix of discomfort and bliss, the Wolf suddenly released a mighty howl and sank deep within her.
Poor Little Red cried out, her inner muscles convulsing against his stout shaft as he held still, buried in her to the hilt. Beyond the shock of the moment she gasped at how wonderful it felt to be penetrated so completely.
In time the Wolf drew slowly back until the thick ridge of his cock began to pull at her entrance once more, before he powered forward again, causing her to cry out with bliss-filled pleasure. The Wolf fucked Little Red with long smooth strokes of his giant shaft, and she angled her hips to accept him fully.
‘Oh, God!’ she cried, even though she knew it was particularly wrong to blaspheme on a Sunday. But she simply couldn’t help herself, and we must forgive her as the sensation of his outrageous cock pumping in and out was so much more than she had ever imagined it could be, and without thinking she raked her fingernails deep into the flesh of his back until even he was forced to curse and rise up on his arms.
‘Oh, fuck!’ she shrieked, shutting her eyes and biting her lower lip. ‘Fuck me! Fuck me harder, Mr Wolf!’ and the Wolf dutifully obliged.
He took her ankles in his giant fists and lifted her legs high and wide apart so that her bottom was lifted from the bed and she was forced to cry out with desperate sobs of pleasure. He withdrew completely and flipped her onto her front, before entering her from behind in a way that allowed her to imagine she was one of the whores from the village, or better still, that she was being taken against her will. And just when she felt her second climax begin to swell, he threw her onto her back again, sinking his wet erection deep inside her again.
The Wolf thrust and Little Red gasped to the wonderful joy of being fucked so thoroughly at last. Her orgasm overwhelmed her, and her scream of delight caused startled birds on the fringes of the forest to take flight. She had never known pleasure quite like it, but then gradually, inevitably, she began to slow and her awareness returned to a level where she could watch and feel the Wolf finding his own ultimate release deep within her weary body.
For a time they were still, hearts racing, exhausted. Little Red drew in the salty scent of his fresh sweat, proud that she’d given him such pleasure. Eventually the Wolf rolled to one side with a grunt and she rather cheekily threw out an arm so that her hand could rest upon his sticky, semi-erect prick.
A short while later, and with no little disappointment, she watched as he climbed from the bed. He stood before her, naked and unabashed, and she couldn’t help but eye his mighty cock hanging between those trunk-like thighs, and she dearly wanted to play with it some more.
‘Time to get you back home, Little Red,’ he said. ‘Your family will be wondering where you’ve got to, and as it’ll be a full moon this night, there’s no telling what beasts will be out there with a taste for fresh blood.’
Red gave him a sideways glance to check that he was joking, but he ignored her and set about dressing. Releasing a sudden involuntary shiver she agreed that perhaps it was indeed time for them to leave, and climbed off the bed to wash and dress too.
Like a good girl she changed the bed linen and found a clay jug to arrange the wild flowers in, while the Wolf set fresh firewood in the hearth for granny.
They took the long way back by the road, but it was much cooler now, and in a way she wanted to take her time. She had so much she wanted to ask him, about his travels, and if any of the stories people told about him were true, but for once she was just happy being silent, and so they walked on without sharing a word, enjoying the first signs of sunset painting the sky with purple and gold.
Once they reached the boundary of her father’s farm they stood still. ‘Would you like to come and share some food?’ Red asked, a little shyly. ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty left over from lunch.’ The Wolf just smiled and shook his shaggy head.
Red turned and looked towards her little house in the distance, the first oil lamps already burning from within, and she knew he was right. He would not be welcomed.
Spinning round to say a final goodbye and to ask if she might see him again, Little Red gasped to discover that she was all alone once more. This time she didn’t bother to look for where he might be, as she knew well that he was gone, yet perhaps still watching.
And so, dear reader, as Little Red wound her way up the tree-lined path to her home, we reach the end of our tale. Does it finish with a happily-ever-after? Well in a way I suppose it does, only perhaps not in the way you might expect. Red did not marry the Wolf and they did not settle down in the forest to raise a little pack of their own. In the same way as a wolf will always be a wild killer at heart, no matter how carefully you train it, Little Red would always be Little Red. It was in her nature, and it wasn’t long before she was back to her old tricks and enjoying herself as before.
I could go on to tell you about how she soon sought those boys who had once paid her brother to watch as she bathed, to offer them so much more if they gave their money directly to her instead.
I could let you know that the very next time she led a little audience to watch her swim naked in the creek, she marched straight up to where they lay hidden and demanded they touch her inappropriately or else she would tell her father they’d been spying on her.
I could tell you that on that very next Friday evening, when the farmhands returned drunk from the tavern, Little Red came knocking at their door to show them she was not so ‘little’ any more.
Maybe I could even tell you how that following summer, when once more the travellers came to work the fields, she allowed them to persuade her that, where they came from, it was quite normal for a pretty young lady, such as she, to suck their cocks one after the other, until her body was rendered little more than a sticky mess.
I could even go on to let you know that, when the mood took her, Little Red could be found wandering alone in the forest with a bare bum and short dress in the hope that she might stumble across wicked men who might tie her up and use her young body until she would be forced to beg for mercy.
These are all tales for another day, however, and ones I will gladly tell; all you need do is find me...