Butter Wouldn't Melt (6 page)

They began to drink, laughing and joking among themselves and with me, also trying to flirt. It would have been easy just to relax into it, as none of them were being pushy or particularly obnoxious, but I kept remembering the bet and what they'd said about me, and what they'd like to do to me. Steve in particular was being charming and friendly, enough to bring back my confusion over my sexuality, only this was the man who'd said he would like to make me suck his cock after it had been up my bottom.

I kept that firmly in mind as we finished the first two bottles of champagne and Den Coles ordered
another pair. They were trying ever harder to capture my attention, and I knew I was getting drunk, making me worry not so much about what might happen at the wine bar, but afterwards. Den in particular was an unprincipled bastard, and Andy wasn't much better. Maybe they were bad enough to come up to my room in the afternoon and try to make me toss them off, suck them, hold me down over the desk and stuff their erections rudely up me from behind . . .

The thought came with a little erotic shiver, and I pushed it down immediately, cursing myself for my own susceptibility. I do like men, sort of, sometimes, at least to watch, but it's not at all like the way I feel for girls, more a grotesque fascination. Grotesque maybe, but it's a fascination that makes pussy wet, and she was, fuelling my embarrassment as the four of them vied to get me out of my knickers.

I very nearly sent a text to AJ to beg for rescue. She would come, I knew that, but she'd be cross. I'd get punished, and not with a spanking, but with something both dirty and humiliating, one of her specials, which came in infinite variety and could be very hard to take. Instead, I told myself I was safe just so long as I was in the wine bar and there were lots of people around me, so when one o'clock came and I should have gone back I stayed, accepting yet more champagne, which was a mistake. Everybody had bought a bottle now, except me. I couldn't afford it, and they knew that.

‘Whose round is it?' Andy queried, as if he didn't know.

‘Pippa's,' Den answered, and I found myself digging in my bag to see if I could scrape together enough for a half bottle of the house champagne, only for Mark to come to the rescue, and to take his chance.

His arm had come around my shoulders as he spoke.

‘Give the poor girl a break, you mean bastard. How's she supposed to buy a bottle in here on what old Montague's paying her?'

‘A round's a round,' Andy pointed out.

‘Yeah,' Den agreed, his voice slurred with drink, ‘but I'm a fair guy. If she doesn't want to pay up, she can put out instead. How about it, doll?'

I couldn't speak, red-faced and open-mouthed in outrage, but both Mark and Steve quickly jumped to my defence, calling Den a prat and a jerk. Mark's arm pulled tighter around my shoulders.

‘Look, it's OK,' I finally managed. ‘I think I've got enough for a small bottle . . .'

‘No, that's not necessary,' Steve insisted. ‘The next one's on me. Come on guys, give the poor girl a chance.'

It was impossible not to feel relief, also protected by the strength of Mark's arm and the warmth of his body. He'd been right to give himself low odds as well, because while he might have been a lizard he knew far more about how to appeal to a woman than either Den or Andy, whose attitude was just plain creepy.

‘Get a life, Steve, I was only joking,' Den insisted, but I knew he hadn't been.

Andy gave a nasty little snigger before he spoke in turn.

‘Yeah, you can take a joke, can't you, Pippa?'

‘Yes, of course,' I answered, but this time I allowed my voice to stay cold, a perfectly reasonable response.

My head was beginning to spin, but I swallowed what was left in the glass and accepted another when Steve brought back his bottle. I knew I had to stay,
but now the danger was different, and worse, that Steve or Mark would come up to my room and play on my sympathy and the state I was in to seduce me. Before long I'd be down on my knees with a penis in my mouth, saying thank you in the best way I could, a thought which again sent a thrill through me, sharper than before.

Again I pushed it down, but now with a weird sense of panic which I'd last known in the back of a car while watching my friend Sophie suck a man off through the open window. It had been frightening and exciting all at once, bearable only because the doors were firmly locked and my friends were there. I'd even gone as far as to pull up my top to show him my breasts, and there was no denying that I'd felt the urge to take his thick, dark erection in my own mouth. Fortunately my aunt had turned up before anything more could happen, which in a turn had led to my virgin spanking, an experience of such perfect ecstasy . . .

‘Pippa? Earth to Pippa,' Steve's voice broke in, and I found myself mumbling embarrassed apologies as he went on.

‘I was saying, once you've finished with that stuff you're doing for Maggie, why don't you join me on a visit to a client. It would be good experience for you.'

‘Yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that,' I answered, truthfully. ‘But what about Maggie?'

‘You can ask her,' Den said, nodding towards the window.

I turned, to see Maggie Phelps halfway across the square. She had seen us, and she did not look pleased, filling me with exactly the sort of apprehension I thought I'd left behind at school. I made to rise, an apology already trembling on my lips, but Mark's
arm was still around my shoulder and he eased me back into my seat.

‘Relax, Pippa. You don't need to worry about Maggie.'

‘Doesn't she?' Maggie herself responded as she turned in at the door. ‘She's supposed to be gaining experience with us, Mark, and not in how to drink, or flirt. Come back to the office, Pippa.'

‘Yes, of course,' I began, but Mark wasn't satisfied.

‘How much experience do you think she'll gain sorting out the old files?' he asked. ‘We could get a temp in to do that.'

‘It's what I need her to do, at present,' Maggie answered.

‘Fair enough,' Steve put in, ‘but once she's finished I'd like her to come out with me for a few days.'

‘That's not unreasonable,' Maggie agreed. ‘Now come along, Pippa.'

I came, knowing it was what I should do and unable in my case to resist the authority in her voice. Mark let me up, and while Maggie didn't actually take my hand I felt very much that I was being led away as we left, led away like a naughty little girl caught playing with the wrong friends. I was sure the men were laughing at me as I crossed the square a couple of paces behind Maggie, leaving me red-faced, but my embarrassment flared higher still as she turned to me and spoke.

‘I think we both know what you need, don't we?'

‘A coffee?' I suggested, although I'd heard that tone of voice before and I had a horrible, thrilling suspicion I knew what she meant.

‘A good spanking,' she answered, and my suspicion turned to certainty.

The shock and doubt in my face must have shown, because she went on immediately, her voice stern and commanding.

‘Don't try to play the innocent with me, young lady. I know exactly what you are, and what you like.'

Sober, I'd have realised she really did know, and maybe told her I was in a faithful relationship with my girlfriend, maybe. Drunk and flushed with embarrassment, I tried to deny it.

‘No, you've got it wrong, Miss Phelps, I don't . . .'

‘I'll have none of that nonsense,' she interrupted me. ‘You came with a reference from Morris Rathwell, didn't you? And we all know what that means.'

‘Yes, but I . . .'

I'd been going to say that I had nothing to do with Morris Rathwell and that I only got spanked by my girlfriend, but both protests would have been lies and the second completely useless anyway. Instead I shut up, and Miss Phelps gave me a smug little grin, taking my hand as we turned and lost sight of Champagne Charlie's. She strode forward and I came meekly behind, full of confusion, scared and yet expectant, burning with resentment and yet full of arousal. There was a world of satisfaction in Miss Phelps's voice as she spoke again.

‘I wanted to be the first to spank you, and it looks like I will be. Perhaps we'd better go in at the back? Otherwise I might have to deal with you in front of Lucius and Mr Montague, which would be a pity.'

She didn't say why, whether it was to spare my blushes or because she had further plans for me, but I suspected I knew the answer. I cast her a nervous look, already imagining the taste of her sex in my mouth, but she was walking straight ahead, towards the rear door of Montague, Montague, Todmorden and Montague. Inside, she hurried me up the stairs, applying a pat to the seat of my skirt to urge me up the final flight. It was no more than a touch, but it
meant a great deal, her assumption of the right to smack my bottom, which I didn't rebuff.

My heart was beating fast as I entered my tiny room, and I was biting my lip for a moment before I managed to stop myself, trying to look composed as I awaited my punishment. She drew a key from her bag and quickly locked the door. For all my attempt at calm I felt very small indeed, and tried to be brave, speaking in an effort to show that I wasn't quite the pathetic little creature she assumed.

‘How do you want me, over your knee I suppose?'

I'd put on my best sassy voice, but she answered quite casually.

‘No, climb onto your desk and lie on your back, as if you were ready to have your nappy changed.'

All my efforts to appear cool and sophisticated collapsed in humiliation and the first words to enter my head spilt from my mouth.

‘I don't wear a nappy!'

‘No, but that should give you an extra little something to think about while your bottom is smacked.'

She was right. I was pouting furiously and quite unable to stop myself as I climbed onto the desk. It wasn't a position I'd been punished in before, but I could quite imagine how shameful it would be, with everything showing, while the thought of being made to wear a nappy and having it changed had inevitably got stuck in my head.

Determined at least to deprive her of the pleasure of exposing me, I began to tug my own skirt up, only to have a finger wagged in my face.

‘Oh no you don't,' she warned. ‘I'll get you ready. Now on your back you go.'

I went, turning over and lifting my knees as I knew I should. Even dressed, my bottom felt prominent
and vulnerable, and Miss Phelps was smiling as she eyed the shape I made under my skirt.

‘I'm going to enjoy this,' she said, taking hold of the hem of my skirt. ‘It's been quite a while since I spanked a young one like you.'

She began to draw my skirt down my thighs, deliberately slowly. Her eyes were fixed on my legs as she exposed me, and when the tops of my stay-ups came on show she gave a nod of satisfaction and spoke again.

‘I see you wear stockings. Sensible girl. Aren't tights horrid?'

I managed a nod, unable to speak for the lump in my throat. She could now see right up my skirt, to where the bulge of my sex was hidden by my knickers, my embarrassingly wet knickers. Her eyebrows lifted in amusement as she saw.

‘Wet already? Quite the little slut, aren't you?' she said. ‘Lift your bottom, darling.'

My obedience was automatic, and as I raised myself from the table she quickly pushed my skirt up over my hips, leaving my knickers on full show. Ever since my first spanking I'd been taught to associate a particular style of underwear with punishment, plain white, full-cut knickers, which was what I had on. Just knowing I was wearing them could be enough to turn me on, and Miss Phelps seemed to share my taste.

‘Spanking panties?' she remarked. ‘What a good girl you are.'

She stepped back a little, admiring the view of my thighs and bottom, no longer hidden by my skirt but bare save for where the taut white cotton of my knickers covered my most intimate secrets. It was a thoroughly ridiculous pose, and as she took hold of my ankles I thought of what she'd said about it being
the way I'd lie if I was having my nappy changed. Given the amount of modesty I was going to be allowed to keep, I might as well have been.

‘Let's have those panties down then, shall we?' she said, her voice full of smug amusement as she took hold of me by the seat of my knickers.

One good jerk and they'd been pulled out from under my body. Another and my bum crease was showing. A third and they were around my thighs, exposing my spread bottom hole and the wet tart of my pussy. A hard sob escaped my lips as I was laid bare, and she gave a soft chuckle as she twisted her hand into my knickers, now at knee level, holding me firmly in place with my bottom stuck out and completely exposed. I was bare, and ready to be spanked, but she seemed to have other ideas.

Her eyes were lingering on what I was showing, and her hand had settled on the turn of my bottom cheek. I'd thought she might touch me up as well as spank me, and I closed my eyes, unable to resist the pleasure of having my bottom stroked and fondled for all the shame of my position. Only when her fingers began to move close to my anus did I open my eyes again, to find that she'd squatted down and was looking at my twin holes from just inches away. My surprise must have shown in my face.

‘Aren't you used to having your bottom inspected?' she asked.

I shook my head.

‘I always like to inspect a new girl before I spank her,' she said, and her hand had moved to my sex.

Another sob burst out as she inserted one long finger into pussy, just briefly, before extracting it and spreading my lips to open my hole for inspection.

‘Not a virgin, then,' she remarked. ‘Pity.'

‘I am a virgin,' I managed. ‘I just ride a lot.'

‘Perhaps,' she replied, doubtfully, ‘but I do like to see an intact hymen. Are you sure you haven't let your knickers down for some nasty little boy?'