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The Guest(2/2)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THE GUEST (Part 2) (2/3)
As they made love, Debbie told Polly about the new regime in
the house: the rules, the punishments, the mahogany cane in
the cabinet downstairs. By the time they finally lay still
with their arms around each other, sated, Polly knew just
about everything.
"No more secrets?" she whispered in her lover's ear, nibbling
her ear lobe.
"No more secrets," agreed Debbie.
They lay together for a while longer. Finally Polly sat up.
"I've got to have a fag! Can I smoke in here?"
"You're joking!" Debbie retorted. "I've told you - that's a
major rule."
Polly grunted in reply.
"What if I sit by the window?"
"I can't guarantee anything - I guess you might be OK, but
it's your funeral."
"Do you think he really would spank me?"
"Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"I reckon if he can't find a genuine reason to put you over
his knee, he'll invent one," Debbie replied, watching her
friend hungrily as she got out of bed.
"Don't look at me like that!" Polly scolded her.
"Why not? I like looking at you!"
"But... but I'm so fat," Polly replied, looking down at her
large breasts.
"Fat!" Debbie widened her eyes. "Polly - you're beautiful.
Anyway, I though fat was a construction of patriarchal
oppression," she teased her friend.
"Well, it is - I guess," Polly said doubtfully. "Do you
really think I'm beautiful?"
Debbie swung her slim legs out of bed and walked over to her
lover, slipping a hand between her thighs and kissing her hard
on the mouth.
"Very beautiful," she confirmed. "I mean - look at your
tits!"
"They're too big!" Polly moaned (although the moan was mainly
caused my the fingers intruding into her tight vagina).
"They're... sumptuous!" Debbie declared, bending to kiss each
one adoringly, sucking long and hard on each teat in turn.
Then she looked seriously into Polly's eyes.
"Really. I do adore your body. The look of you, the feel of
you - everything."
Polly smiled. That exchange had meant more to her than she
could ever express. She extracted herself from Debbie's
embrace and began to rummage in her coat for her cigarettes
while Debbie sat down, still naked, on the bed.
Armed with fag and lighter, Polly slipped the coat over her
bare skin and made her way over to the window. She opened it
and sat up on the ledge to light up, turning her head after
every drag to blow the incriminating smoke out of the window
and letting her right arm dangle outside in the warm, summer
night air.
"Can you smell it?" she asked her friend.
"No, it's not..."
She was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and
froze as her Mr Newton strode into the room.
"I thought the rules said in bed by eleven!" he said sternly,
looking at his nude daughter.
"Yes, daddy," she responded meekly, suddenly aware of the
tenderness in her bottom, and crawled back under the sheet.
Her father turned his attention to the girl on the window
ledge.
"And what might you be doing, young lady?"
"I... I wanted some fresh air," she lied.
"Fresh?" he said, almost laughing, and walked up to her.
"Breathe!" he demanded.
Timidly, Polly breathed a little smoky air towards him, seeing
his nose wrinkle with displeasure.
"Well?" he pursued her.
Polly was getting desperate. Rather than the earlier erotic
feelings, the idea of being put across the big man's knee for
a bare bottomed spanking now simply terrified her.
"Debbie... Debbie said it would be OK if I smoked out of the
window!"
Debbie, stunned by her friend's lie, nonetheless said nothing
as her father marched over to her and pulled the covers from
her naked body. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and
pulled her to her feet, dragging her bodily across the room
and pushing her down over her desk.
Polly waited for Debbie's denial, but she simply gripped the
edges of the desk and waited. Slowly and deliberately,
Debbie's father now unbuckled his belt and slipped it through
the loops of his trousers. He folded it carefully in half and
then lay the improvised instrument on his daughter's already
well-beaten bottom. Then he lifted it high above his head.
"No!" Polly screamed. The tableau froze for a moment and then
Mr Newton turned to her, still holding the belt ready to
strike.
"No, what?" he asked.
"I... I didn't tell the truth," she stammered. "Debbie told
me not to smoke and... and I just thought you might not notice
if I sat here."
Debbie father slowly brought his arm down to his side. "I'm
glad you have decided to tell the truth," he said. "I'm sure
Debbie is also glad."
He lifted his wet-eyed daughter and turned her towards him.
"You still would expect to be punished for not stopping your
friend from smoking and for still being up at...," he looked
at his watch," at twelve forty, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, daddy."
"Yes. Well, you can bring me a cup of tea at seven. I'll
deal with you then." He looked up at Polly. "As for you,
when I've finished with Debbie I will send for you. And I
don't suppose you'll feel like smoking again in my house
afterwards."
"Yes, sir," Polly mumbled.
"Right. Get yourselves into bed now. Both of you. Lights
out and no more talking or so help me I'll turn you both over
and give you a strapping there and then! Got that?"
The girls mumbled their assent and Mr Newton turned and left
the room. He had, of course, noticed the girls' nudity, and
their untidy hair and the rumpled bedclothes. He had also
noticed, a soon as he entered the room, the strong scent of
feminine sexuality. However, like any sensible father, he
would much father find his daughter, at that age anyway, in
bed with another girl than with a boy. He suspected,
correctly as it happened, that his daughter was bisexual
rather than lesbian, and was thankful for it. He would never
have said so though, especially not in front of his brother
Steve who would have hit the roof. Steve had come out as gay
when Debbie's father was only fourteen and he had therefore
grown up comfortable with the idea of same sex relationships.
But he did worry about the bigotry that his daughter would
have to face if she were a lesbian - and, more selfishly,
hoped for grandchildren one day.
Behind the door, both girls had now crept silently back into
bed, Polly clinging on to her lover tightly with tears
stinging her eyes.
"Debs. I'm frightened," she whispered.
Debbie turned to face her and kissed her mouth tenderly. "I'm
afraid this time," she whispered back, "your fears are quite
well-founded. Now, shh!"
Debbie had set the alarm for half-six and Polly watched her
with increasing anxiety as she got up, slipped out for a quick
shower and changed into a short pink nightie before going
downstairs to make her father's tea.
"Make sure you're ready!" she warned her friend. "I'll see
you in a bit."
Once Debbie had left the room, Polly got up and grabbed a
towel before making her way to the bathroom. She showered
quickly, washing herself carefully, and then brushed her
teeth. Opening the bathroom door, she heard the sound at
once. The smacking sound, followed by Debbie's girlish cries,
were quite unmistakable. Unable to drag herself away, Polly
crept closer to the door of Mr Newton's bedroom. It was
slightly ajar and she was able to see inside. There, on the
side of the bed, was the master of the house with his daughter
balanced neatly over his knee and with her nightie pulled up
to expose her bottom which, with a firm vigour, he was hand-
spanking. As she had the night before, Polly found herself
becoming swiftly aroused by the sight and this time it was
mixed in with a frightened apprehensiveness. She knew that
she would be next over that lap.
Suddenly Debbie's spanking stopped and Polly, still dressed
only in a towel, rushed back to Debbie's room and pulled on
the pair of powder blue silk pyjamas she had brought with her,
towelling her hair dry quickly. After a minute or two, Debbie
entered the room, her face moist from her tears. She smiled
encouragingly.
"Only fifty smacks with his hand!" she said, trying to hide
any trace of pain in her voice.
Polly began to cry and Debbie put her arms around her and
kissed her cheek.
"Come on, it won't be too bad. Remember all those canings and
things at school?"
Polly looked up at her friend and sniffed.
"That's it," Debbie said gently. "Go on. If you're late
he'll give you extra!"
Trying to steel herself, Polly opened the door and walked out
into the hallway, acutely aware of her sense of touch: the
carpet beneath her feet stroking her soles pleasantly, but
reminding her, by contrast, of what was to come.
She knocked on his door.
"Come in! Ah, Polly. Good morning. Did you sleep well?"
He was sitting on the side of the bed in a maroon bathrobe as
she'd seen him just minutes earlier. In the circumstances,
she found answering his amiable chatter none too easy.
"Er, no. Not really," she answered truthfully.
"No," he echoed. "I don't suppose you did." He seemed lost
in reflection for a moment and then said.
"So. I assume you are prepared to take your punishment?"
"Yes, sir," she answered, adopting the formal deferential tone
once more.
"Good. Stand a little closer."
She took a step towards her and then saw his hands reach out
for her pyjama bottoms.
"Oh, no - you can't..." she said suddenly.
He stopped and looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"I... I'm sorry. It's just that I... I'm not wearing anything
underneath."
"I see. Did Debbie go through the house rules with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"And do your recall the section on nightwear?"
"Yes, sir. It said you had to wear panties with pyjamas, but
I..."
She wanted to tell him that she'd been rushing and had
forgotten that rule, but then sensed that it would only make
things worse so she stumbled to a halt.
"Well, I'm going to proceed as if you were properly dressed,"
Mr Newton said, not himself upset by this opportunity to view
his daughter's friend more intimately. "In the circumstances,
I shan't give you any additional punishment for the
infringement of that rule however.
Again his hands reached for the elastic waist of her pyjama
bottoms and this time she did nothing to stop him as he tugged
them carefully down. As her light brown triangle of hair
sprung out over the top the silk, Polly closed her eyes.
Unlike Debbie, she'd been to an all-girls school and she'd
therefore had even less opportunity to mix with boys than her
friend. Even now, after a year of university, no boy had seen
her naked. She's been out with a few boys, and had kissed
them and let them feel her breasts - but she'd always called a
halt when they attempted to remove her panties.
One boy, Bill, she had gone out with for a couple of months
and had liked and trusted enough to let him lift her skirt and
stroke her mound through her knickers. He'd known that she
didn't want go further and she found herself able to trust him
and just enjoy the wonderful feeling of wet heat that his
touch inspired in her, even once climaxing from his tender
caresses. She'd ended it partly because she no longer trusted
herself, but knew that she wasn't ready for a "serious"
relationship yet. Recently she'd been thinking of accepting
his pleas to see him again - but now she wondered whether
something important might be developing between her and
Debbie.
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