Butter Wouldn't Melt (7 page)

‘I promise,' I sobbed. ‘I'm a virgin, I really am.'

She gave a little tut, then spoke again.

‘Do you masturbate?'

‘No,' I lied.

‘I think you do, Pippa,' she responded, and she had begun to stroke between my sex lips.

My thighs tightened and my mouth came wide as she touched my clitoris. I began to wriggle, but she tightened her grip on my knickers and once more pushed a finger in up my hole.

‘Do you masturbate?' she asked again, firmer now.

‘Yes,' I admitted.

‘How often?'

‘Not often. OK, quite often . . . nearly every day . . . sometimes twice, or more . . . I can't help it. My head always seems to be full of dirty thoughts.'

Her finger had been sliding in and out of me as she spoke, bringing my pleasure higher and breaking down what little resistance I had.

‘Do you think about being spanked?' she asked.

‘Yes,' I admitted, ‘all the time.'

She pulled her finger free, but only to move it a little lower. I winced and gasped as she touched my bumhole, using a knuckle to rub in some of the cream which had begun to trickle down between my open cheeks. My ring began to twitch, and I was wondering if she was going to put a finger in when she spoke again.

‘You play with your bottom hole, don't you?'

‘No! Yes . . . it's nice, and so is what you're doing.'

‘Dirty little girl,' she replied, still rubbing my cream into my anus, ‘but perhaps not all that dirty. Did you know that when a girl has been regularly sodomised
her anus comes open a little at the slightest touch? I don't think you've been sodomised, have you?'

I shook my head, now shaking with humiliation and excitement. She continued to play with me, teasing my anal ring until I was open enough for the top joint of her finger to fit in.

‘Then I'd watch out for old Lucius,' she said. ‘He likes to collect girls' anal virginities. Unless of course you'd enjoy his cock up your darling little bottom?'

‘No,' I managed, a weak sob as she continued to explore my anus.

‘I didn't think so,' she went on, ‘but I dare say you'll get it in the end, and I dare say you'll learn to like it. Now, as you like to play dirty, let's see if I can't find something to pop inside you while you're spanked.'

Her finger pulled from my anus and she reached to one side, where I'd left the stamp I'd been using to mark dates on the files for archiving. The handle was red painted wood, small and bulbous, just right for going in a girl's bottom hole, and staying in. She was smiling as she picked it up, and turned it over in her hand as she spoke again.

‘These are perfect, I find. They look rather like dummies, too, don't you think?'

I nodded weakly as the image of me being put on my back to have my nappy changed rose up once more, only now as I sucked on a dummy. Not that the stamp handle was going in my mouth, it was going up my bum, the rounded tip already touching my ring. I was slimy with my own juice, and opened easily, my hole accepting the little plug and closing on the narrow part to hold it in with the date stamp protruding from my anus, both ridiculous and obscene.

‘There,' she said, ‘I expect you like that, don't you?'

‘Yes,' I admitted.

‘Time for your spanking then,' she said, and it began.

She was using her finger tips, applying little stinging slaps to the turn of my cheeks, hard enough to set me gasping and clutching at the table. I could feel my bumhole pulsing on the plug inside as I was smacked, and pussy felt open and vulnerable. The way she'd inspected me had turned me on so much I was quickly beyond the point of pain, wriggling my bottom to the smacks.

‘You want to come, don't you?' she laughed, and I could only nod in urgent agreement.

‘Not yet you don't, you little slut,' she answered me. ‘First I want to punish you.'

As she spoke she changed the way she was spanking me, slapping hard across my cheeks so that every hit jammed the rubber stamp in up my bottom hole. It hurt, but it only made me wriggle all the more, and in turn she spanked harder still. Her expression grew stern and my legs had been hauled higher, to make a bigger target of my bottom. She began to slap my thighs and hips, bringing me real pain and making me yelp and kick in my tightly twisted panties.

‘That's better,' she said, ‘and you're getting nice and pink too.'

She was getting faster, and smacking just as hard, until I was writhing on the table top and biting my lip to stop myself screaming out and revealing to the entire office that I was having my bottom smacked. I knew I couldn't hold it in much longer, and perhaps she realised, slowing down, but tormenting me by lifting her hand over my bottom before applying single, hard slaps, so that each one had me twitching in anticipation before it was delivered.

At last she stopped, and began to rub my bottom instead, feeling my hot cheeks. I lay still, breathing heavily, my bottom glowing hot, my bumhole pulsing slowly on the intruding plug, my pussy dribbling juice down between my cheeks and around the slim wooden shaft in my anus. She continued to caress me, soothing my smacked bottom and occasionally brushing pussy to tease her, until I'd begun to arch my back in pleasure and need.

Seeing the state she'd put me in, she took hold of the rubber stamp and began to ease the handle in and out of my bumhole, pulling it free only to penetrate me once more, and again, and again, until I was whimpering with ecstasy and my fingers were locked tight on the sides of the desk. I was so well buggered my bottom hole had begun to stay open even when the plug was out, before she spoke again.

‘I think you had better come now, don't you? While I bring you off I want you to think about what's been done to you, and in particular the position you're in, as if you still wear a nappy and I had to spank you while you were being changed. OK?'

I gave a nod, knowing full well that even if I tried I would be unable to get the awful fantasy out of my head.

‘Good girl,' she said, ‘and here's a little something to help you. Close your eyes.'

As I obeyed her command she drew the rubber stamp from my anus, but this time it was not replaced.

‘Here's a dummy for poor spanked baby,' she said, and the handle which had just been used to plug my bottom touched my lips.

A violent shudder of disgust ran through my body, but I opened up and in it went, leaving me sucking
on the taste of my own bumhole and whimpering with shame-filled ecstasy. She laughed at me, bringing my feelings higher still as my spanking began once more, only this time not on my bottom, but on pussy.

It wasn't hard, just pats, but perfectly delivered, each one sending a little jolt of ecstasy through me that could only end one way. I was going to come, and my head was already fixed on the image she'd provoked. She'd spanked my bottom, and to do it she'd put me in the same position I'd have needed to be in to have my nappy changed. Maybe she was going to put me in a nappy, and parade me around the office with the tell-tale bulge showing under my skirt so that everyone would know. Maybe she'd change me in front of the two dirty old men who shared our obsession, and spank me too, rolled up with my bumhole and pussy flaunted for them to gloat over, to toss their fat old cocks over. Maybe I'd have my bumhole plugged while they did it, with a real dummy, which I'd be made to suck on afterwards, with my mouth full of the taste of my own bottom as Maggie Phelps held me down and fat old Lucius Todmorden pressed his erection to my anus, penetrating me, buggering me, making me just one more girl on his long list of anally deflowered virgins.

I was coming, and I couldn't stop myself thinking about it, my thoughts fixed firmly on how it would feel to have my anal ring spread to his erection and my rectum fill with fat, hot penis. The humiliation was unbearable, but that was part of what was making me come as Maggie patted my juicy, open pussy to a steady rhythm and I sucked urgently on the tiny plug she had just that moment had up my bottom hole. It was a good orgasm, long and hard, and so emotional that the tears were running from my eyes as I came slowly down.

There was no question about what came next. Not a word was spoken as I spat out my impromptu dummy and climbed from the desk. Maggie went to my seat, her smart black office skirt already tugged up to reveal her stockings with slices of creamy white thigh bulging a little over the top of each and her knickers, black and lacy, pulled tight over the enticing swell of her sex. I went straight to my knees, crawling to her as she eased her knickers down and off. Her thighs came wide, presenting me with her neatly trimmed pussy, the centre pink and moist with excitement, the tiny bud of her clitoris showing ready for my tongue.

AJ WAS GOING
to kill me. I had broken her trust, which meant a severe punishment, and while in a way I was eager to take it, that didn't mean I wasn't scared. The only question was whether I should confess to her, and there was only one acceptable answer. If I kept it from her and she did eventually find out she would be genuinely hurt, which I didn't want at all.

I didn't see her that evening, and when we spoke on the phone I managed to convince myself that it was the sort of admission that should be made face to face. Not that it would be put off for long, because Mum finally decided to see sense and let me stay in London during the week. Jemima was green with envy, and once Mum and Dad were out of the way she wouldn't stop teasing me about what I'd be getting up to with AJ. Fortunately she only had the sketchiest idea of what that might be, although it was still deeply embarrassing having my little sister gloating over the thought of me getting a spanking.

The next day I packed a weekend bag to take with me, including several changes of clothes. At Montague, Montague, Todmorden and Montague I was greeted with a faint but knowing grin from Maggie and went straight upstairs. I now had the filing down to an efficient routine, and was eager to finish so that
I could go out with Steve Frost, although it was very hard indeed not to think about what had happened the day before, particularly while using the stamp Maggie had stuck up my bottom and made me suck.

I was also sure the men in the Blockhouse would be talking about me, and I couldn't resist listening in. There was even an excuse for being in the right room, because I now had so many files for the popular letters that I'd had to double up my alphabet and was rapidly running out of floor space. The room above the Blockhouse was the largest on the top floor, so it made sense to lay out my piles of folders there, and I could listen in safety.

There wasn't much to hear at first, because both Gail and Claire were in and, unsurprisingly, they didn't seem to have been included in the bet. Only when they went down to a meeting in the Boardroom did the conversation change, with Mark, Steve and Andy left in the room. After a moment of careful listening to make sure nobody was coming up the stairs I put my ear as close as I could get it to the hole in the floor. Steve was talking.

‘You're a sneaky bastard, Mark, taking little Pippy off to Champagne Charlie's like that.'

First I'd been ‘Miss Double Barrel' and now I was ‘little Pippy'. I wasn't sure which was more insulting.

‘All's fair, mate,' Mark answered, ‘and besides, I have to protect my investment. Anyway, I'm making a few changes to the odds. She seems to like you, so you're down to 5–1, and I reckon I'd have made her yesterday if you lot hadn't pushed in, so I'm 3–1 and going down. After Den's performance, he goes up to 20–1, because frankly, I suspect after what he said she'd rather have sex with a syphilitic orangutan. Andy's 15–1, and the others stay the same.'

They carried on talking, but about the bet and other similar bets they'd had before, which was all very interesting but only really served to confirm that they had no respect whatsoever for women. I'd soon gone back to work, which had become automatic, and I was again considering the best way to benefit from their dirty little game and to puncture their arrogance at the same time.

One obvious consideration was that I had to get my bet on before they found out I'd have sex with anyone, and with Maggie on a mere 10–1 I definitely didn't want them to find out about us. That meant acting fast, because she was sure to want to spank me again, and while I knew I ought to turn her down it wasn't going to be easy. After all, I'd accepted her once, so she might not accept any nonsense on my part, a thought that in itself gave me a delicious thrill. I also had to keep myself out of the clutches of old Mr Montague and Lucius Todmorden, so when I heard a slow tread on the stairs I was doubly apprehensive. It was indeed old Mr Montague, beaming paternally as he addressed me.

‘Good morning, Pippa. I trust everything is going well?'

‘Yes, thank you,' I answered, rising quickly in case the crawling position I'd been in gave him any ideas.

‘And I trust Maggie is keeping you busy and out of mischief?'

There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke and I found myself wondering if she had told him about the day before.

‘Yes,' I told him, ‘and she's very kindly allowing me to visit a client with Stephen Frost once I've finished this filing.'

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Do you know who you will be visiting?'

‘No.'

‘Stephen is handling Stepney Customs, if I remember rightly,' he said. ‘Would you like me to suggest he takes you there? I think you would appreciate Stepney Customs.'

‘That would be very kind, thank you.'

‘Always happy to oblige, my dear,' he replied, and glanced towards the stairs before continuing in a quieter voice. ‘I was sorry not to see you on Saturday night. Another time, I trust?'

I hesitated, wanting to explain the situation and how I felt about men, still not entirely certain that he was talking about Morris Rathwell's spanking party and very eager indeed not to give myself away if he wasn't. A question seemed the best answer.