Portrait of a Disciplinarian (14 page)

‘You’ll be needing my handkerchief,’ Lias remarked, holding out a large grey rag that appeared to have been used several times. ‘I brought a couple along, ’cause I
figured
they’d come in handy. Messy things, you girls, when you get excited.’

Stephanie didn’t answer but took the dirty handkerchief, glaring at him as she wiped her bottom. Hermione was looking smug and recriminations were obviously pointless, so she contented herself with an angry silence until she was sure she’d removed every trace of spunk from both bottom cheeks. Pulling up her shorts, she turned to Lias.

‘I hope you’re satisfied! Now, are we going to steal this pig, or not?’

‘Certain sure we are,’ Lias answered as he stuffed his cock and balls back into the recesses of his clothing. ‘And yes, that was a fine show, thank you, but you needn’t think you’ve got away without a lick of each other’s cunts, my girls.’

‘Beast,’ Stephanie answered, but quietly, while Hermione said nothing.

Lias had to turn the dray, a difficult manoeuvre, leaving Stephanie to contemplate the gross indignity she’d just had inflicted on her, and attempt to cope with her reaction. Her bottom was hot and, as always after a good spanking, no matter who from, that heat had gone to her quim. She was wet, and she couldn’t stop thinking of Lias’ big dark cock. He’d compared her to a roast pig and said she hadn’t been stuffed. She knew what he’d meant too, not a sage-and-onion forcemeat but his big fat cock, rammed home up her virgin quim, her cunt as he called it, a far more suitable word for the mound of puffy, slippery flesh between her thighs.

Only the fear of discovery as they started down the main road deflected her mind from the awful, disturbing thought of having her virginity taken. The night was as dark and empty as ever, but her imagination populated the lonely country road with angry landowners, vengeful pigmen and stern, dutiful police constables. None of these materialised, and before long she caught the
familiar
waft of pig and managed to make out the squat black shape of Jan Wonnacott’s cottage, with the sty beside it. The dray drew to a halt and she scrambled down, pulling the bag of apples behind her. Hermione followed, and spoke in a whisper as the dray pulled away once more.

‘Sorry, Stiffy. I got a bit cross.’

A flood of possible retorts and demands to be allowed her revenge rolled through Stephanie’s head, but what came out was the thought uppermost in her mind.

‘You’ve made my bottom all hot!’

‘Sorry,’ Hermione repeated. ‘Now where’s this pig?’

‘In his sty, I hope.’

They stole forward, Stephanie expecting the door of Jan Wonnacott’s cottage to burst open at any instant. She was unsure whether the low, grumbling snores she could hear emanated from him or from the pig. A sudden snuffling noise as they reached the corner of the sty confirmed that the snorer was human, and an enquiring oink followed as she opened the door. The interior of the sty was dark, but there was no mistaking the location of the pig as a large, moist snout pressed against her leg. She jumped back, tripped over a stray mangel-wurzel and sat down in something that squashed unpleasantly against her bottom.

‘I think I just sat in pig poo.’

‘Stop fooling around, Stiffy, or we’ll get caught!’ Hermione hissed. ‘Give me an apple, quick.’

Stephanie lifted herself carefully from the ground, only to discover that whatever she had sat in preferred to adhere to her shorts rather than to the floor. It was also quite heavy, and as she groped for the apple bag her shorts fell down, just as Singularis Porcus chose to nuzzle her again, so that this time his huge, rubbery snout pressed between the cheeks of her bottom, snuffling.

‘Hey!’ she squeaked. She stepped hurriedly forward, tripped over her shorts and went flat on her face.

‘Will you stop playing the fool?’ Hermione hissed.

‘I can’t help it!’ Stephanie answered. ‘Oh no, not that …’

Singularis Porcus had begun to snuffle at her legs, and for one awful moment she thought she was going to be mounted, only for him to pull away as Hermione spoke again.

‘Here we are, boy, a nice juicy apple, just for you.’

A single squashy crunch signalled the consumption of the titbit as Stephanie scrambled to her feet and pulled her shorts up as fast as she could. Her seat was obviously dirty, but she would need a stick or something to clean herself up, while if she let go of her shorts they would fall down again. Realising she’d just have to stay dirty for the time being, she put a tuck in the shorts and gave a little wiggle to make sure they’d stay up. Hermione spoke again.

‘Do you mind helping, please, Stephanie?’

‘I’m busy!’ Stephanie protested.

‘What with?’

‘I’ve messed my shorts!’

‘You haven’t! Stiffy, you big baby …’

‘Not like that! I told you, I sat in pig poo.’

‘Is that all? Don’t be so precious. Take the apple bag, will you?’

Unable to find words to express her feelings, Stephanie accepted the apple bag. The pig snuffled closer, drawn by the tempting scent of decaying fruit. She backed away, as much in alarm as from any desire to get the monstrous creature out of the door. He followed, venting an irate snort as both girls backed hurriedly out into the road. Stephanie took an apple from the bag and watched him gobble it up, his full form now revealed in the weak moonlight that now paled the sky, seeming bright after the utter blackness of the sty.

There was no doubt that the judges at both Okehampton and Tavistock had made the correct decision in
awarding
last year’s gold medal. Singularis Porcus was not only fatter than the Emperor but longer and taller at the shoulder. He was also black, and the moonlight reflecting from his tiny eyes gave him an unnerving quality, as if Sir Murgatroyd Drake, realising that he could never hope to win by fair means, had made a pact with Satan for the supply of a demonic pig of guaranteed prize-winning proportions.

Eager to placate the monster, Stephanie fed him three apples in quick succession. He snuffled them up eagerly and as the girls began to walk down the road he followed without protest. Ahead was the turning where Lias was supposed to be parked with the dray, as indeed he proved to be, with the tail boards folded down to make a ramp. Now able to see more or less what she was doing, Stephanie allowed the pig a sniff of a particularly large apple, then tossed it up into the dray. He followed, the boards creaking beneath his weight, up on to the dray. Stephanie threw in a few more apples, Lias and Hermione closed the tailboards, and the deed was done.

‘Easy as winking,’ Lias remarked.

‘For you, maybe,’ Stephanie answered.

He merely chuckled and climbed up on to the driver’s seat, motioning to them to follow. The seat was broad enough for three but Stephanie remained standing, only to lose her balance as the dray jolted into motion. As her bottom made contact with the hard wooden seat the muck adhering to her shorts squashed up between her cheeks and against her quim, with only the material of her shorts between it and bare flesh.

‘Bother!’ she managed, and made to rise, but a wheel hit a rut and sat her firmly back down in the muck.

‘Whiffs a bit, don’t he?’ Lias remarked.

‘That’s Stiffy,’ Hermione replied with a lack of tact only possible in a little sister. ‘She sat in pig poo.’

Stephanie didn’t answer, her mind occupied with black thoughts concerning lecherous draymen, little
sisters
, Myrtle Finch-Farmiloe, but most of all pigs that didn’t have the common decency to select a remote corner of the sty for a toilet. Nor was there any possibility of stopping to clean up, with the evidence of their theft snuffling up apples in the back of the dray, so she was forced to stay as she was until Lias turned into the deep, winding lane that led up over the southern flank of Burley Down, beside which a stream ran down the hill.

‘Please may we stop?’ she asked. ‘I need to tidy myself up.’

‘Best keep going,’ he responded. ‘Just take your shorts off.’

‘What, sit bare bottom, next to you?’ she demanded.

‘Well, you’d have to anyway if your shorts were all wet, wouldn’t you?’ he answered. ‘Catch your death of cold, you would, sitting in wet shorts.’

‘He’s seen it all anyway,’ Hermione pointed out, giggling, ‘and it’s jolly dark.’

Stephanie hesitated, but the lane was considerably rougher than the road, making her bounce up and down on the seat so that every landing squashed what was under her a little deeper between her bottom cheeks. Muttering the rudest word she knew, she quickly lifted herself up and pushed her shorts down and off. The next jolt of the dray sat her back down again, now bare bottom in the pig’s mess.

‘Bother!’ she spat. ‘Bother and drat and damn and … and bugger!’

‘Fine language, that is, coming from a young lady,’ Lias remarked.

‘Shut up and drive.’

She folded her arms and settled down to sulk, giving in to fate, which seemed to have decided to pick on her that night. Hermione and Lias began to talk, speaking in low, excited voices, both of them clearly pleased with the night’s work, their differences forgotten in the comradeship of thieves. Gradually Stephanie too found
her
mood lightening, feelings of triumph and adventure crowding out her chagrin and disgust, despite her spanked bottom and the slipperiness of what she was sitting in.

Worry added to her feelings as they passed through Lydford, which was impossible to avoid, but the cottages were as dark and silent as the fields and hedges. Beyond, a broader lane took them to the main road between Okehampton and Tavistock, but that too was deserted, and at last the dray came to a halt beside the woods of Stukely Hall. Only then did Stephanie discover that her bottom was stuck to the seat, but the river was nearby, providing her at last with an opportunity to wash.

She left Lias and Hermione to deal with the pig and scrambled over the wall, her shorts in one hand as she felt her way in among the trees to the same shelf of rock where she and her sister had performed for the drayman. The water of the Lyd was bitterly cold but felt good on her hot, dirty bottom, so much so that she closed her eyes with a long sigh as she began to clean her cheeks. It was done, phase one of the operation complete, with the pig safely in the wood and the Okehampton show just two days away.

As she began to scrub at the seat of her shorts she was smiling, only to bite her lips as she remembered that the night’s work was far from complete. A powerful shiver ran through her at the thought of what she was expected to do, but the events of the night had reduced her willpower to resist, and she knew that if he insisted on the full terms of his bargain she would find an excuse to give in. Even now he was coming through the trees, the lantern in his hand to show the way, with Hermione following. Beyond them, she could hear the pig eating apples.

‘Shouldn’t we move the dray?’ she suggested in a weak attempt to postpone her fate.

‘Don’t you start with your excuses again, Miss
Stephanie
,’ Lias said, sitting down on the rock he’d chosen before. ‘Nude, I want you, both of you.’

‘We’d better,’ Hermione said.

‘You see to him then,’ Stephanie responded as she climbed from the water. ‘It’s jolly well your turn, and besides, I’m all wet.’

‘Cold too, I’d imagine,’ Lias observed. ‘Nothing like a bit of horseplay to warm you up, is there? So just you get on with it.’

Hermione had already peeled her shirt off and stood with her puppyfat breasts naked in the yellow lamplight. Lias had freed his cock and was tugging at it as his eyes flicked between the two girls, as if he was unable to choose between the joys of one sister’s bottom and the other’s breasts. Hermione glanced at the big wrinkly penis and made a face, expressing disgust and sympathy with Stephanie, but her behaviour told rather a different story as she cupped her breasts in her hands and ran her fingers over the big pink nipples. Her teats were already stiff in the cool March air.

‘Nude, I think I said,’ Lias demanded, ‘and how about a little of that arty business you showed me before?’

After only an instant of hesitation Hermione turned her back to him, still holding her breasts as she made a swan’s neck of her back, sticking her bottom out in an enticing globe. She began to wiggle, a slow, sensuous motion, but just enough to make her shorts slide down her hips, showing first the swell of her bottom, then the crease between her cheeks, before they fell down. Now bare except for her knee-length khaki socks and the sensible black shoes she’d chosen for the expedition, she gave a final wiggle of her bottom and turned to her sister.

‘Come on, Stiffy,’ she urged. ‘It will be all right.’

Stephanie wasn’t at all sure if it would, but she found herself unable to resist. She peeled her shirt up and, with her tummy fluttering and her throat so full she could
barely
breathe, stepped forward into the puddle of brightness cast by the lantern beam. Trembling, she took her sister in her arms, horribly ashamed, but unable to deny the little pulses of pleasure running through her body.

‘I suppose we must,’ she said, and kissed Hermione’s cheek.

Hermione returned a peck no less shy, and another, a little closer to Stephanie’s mouth. Their arms were around each other, tight, and Stephanie gingerly began to stroke her sister’s back and neck. She could feel her resistance melting and the need to touch growing stronger. The heavy slapping of Lias masturbating had faded to a background noise. Her lips opened and they were kissing properly, their tongues entwined, their mouths joined, first gently, then with greater pressure as both surrendered to their feelings.

Stephanie’s hands moved lower, to cup the heavy, smooth cheeks of her sister’s bottom, no longer pretending but lost to very real passion. Hermione responded in kind, sliding her hands down Stephanie’s back and on to her cheeks to stroke the soft flesh. Their breasts pressed together, hard nipples against each other’s flesh, their embrace now as urgent as their kiss.

Lias had become a mere distraction as they sank together on to the smooth rock, immediately lying head to toe which they had long ago discovered was the best way to bring each other off. Hermione got straight down to business, opening Stephanie’s thighs over her face and applying her mouth between them as she pulled her own legs up and open to offer her sex. Stephanie gave a quick glance to where Lias was now pulling furiously on a full-fledged erection, then poked out her tongue and touched flesh. She was doing it, licking her own sister’s quim in full view of a man as he masturbated over her. Nor could she pretend they were doing it only for him. Hermione’s tongue was busy among the
folds
of Stephanie’s sex, too eager for it to be pretence, and it felt far too good to resist. Abandoning herself to pleasure, Stephanie began to lick properly, her face buried deep between Hermione’s plump, smooth thighs, her mouth full of ripe, girlish cunt, her tongue busy in the virgin hole and between the sleek lips.