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Friday, 30 November 2018

Poor Jane on a Bike / Win Jane

From Blushes 72
On the train going up to London from Kent, Jane is looking pensive, nervous. It is Monday morning, 10 o’clock, so the main commuter rush is over and with her in the carriage there are only a woman with a young child and an older man. The man is sitting opposite and Jane has realised he is eyeing her. And the thought has come rushing into her head that maybe he has seen the magazines. Blushes. There are about six issues out now with her in them. Shots showing her bare bum. And also the stories. About her being spanked — and screwed by all and sundry. This man who is eyeing her — has he seen and read all this? Those darting eyes gloating over her body.
She tries to dismiss the thought. He is just eyeing her because men do that. A nice-looking girl alone on the train, they get ideas. More to the point really is Ian, her boyfriend. If he sees those magazines. Some of that stuff was really awful. Ian doesn’t buy those magazines… but if someone else bought one and showed him. Or her mother. If she saw them. Or really anyone Jane knows. It doesn’t bear thinking about. She should never have got into this. But she is in it. With another meeting at the office this morning.
What have Mr Greene and Bill Rawlings got in store for her? Something dreadful probably.
Jane nervously licks her lips. She has had a pretty good weekend with Ian. Screwing him three times in all, which of course put Ian in a good mood. He loves screwing her but then it seems all men do, if they get the chance. Bill Rawlings and that Mike Volker. Those other characters when she was on Grand Canary. Before starting this Blushes business Jane hadn’t really screwed anyone except Ian. And now… If Ian ever guessed… Don’t think about it.
And Ian of course wants to know more about her job. Several times at the weekend (when he wasn’t engaged in screwing her) he asked. She has told him it is secretarial. Christ!
Jane gives a quick glance at the man again. Yes he is eyeing her alright. Maybe wondering where he’s seen her before. And he’s going to suddenly remember. Those magazines…
At the office Mr Greene tells Jane he’s got some more good letters from the readers. Does she want to read them? There’s one that’s especially good.
Jane doesn’t want to, they are bound to be awful. The ones that have already come in are awful, several about school, about various masters caning and screwing her. School wasn’t quite that bad, was it? And Mr Greene has already suggested shooting some photo sessions of those stories. Christ!
Mr Greene says he has got this letter just in that’s really great. The reader has the idea of holding a competition for stories with the best one getting Jane as a prize. Having her for a weekend — to do whatever he wants with her. Mr Greene thinks this is great. To Jane it sounds diabolical. She shakes her head.
Derek Greene grins and reaches behind Jane to grope her bottom. He tells her not to be silly. Yes, he thinks they’ll do it. Run it in the next issue. But meanwhile there is something else. Something Jane is going to enjoy. A visit to a friend of his. A friend who is very keen to meet the delectable Jane. He has got a marvellous big house in the country, with a gym and jacuzzi, etc. Jane will have a really great time.
Jane doubts that but she doesn’t say so. She doesn’t want to appear negative but no doubt this friend of Mr Greene has in mind doing things to her which she won’t enjoy. Mr Greene says Bill will drive her, the house is in Hertfordshire and Bill has to go North and he can drop Jane off. They set off about half an hour later. Jane is to stay overnight at the house.
In the car she asks Bill if he is staying too. He says no, he has another appointment. Jane makes a face to herself. Bill can be a bit awful of course but he’s someone she knows and he’s basically nice and friendly. Whereas being alone with this unknown bloke… and having to stay the night…
His name is Mr Enwood. He tells Jane to call him Tony. He comes out to greet them when they drive up in front of this palatial-looking modern house set back from the country lane in its own grounds. Mr Enwood doesn’t look too bad: ordinary looking really, in his forties perhaps, in shirt-sleeves and slacks, with a welcoming smile. He doesn’t look like a monster, a sadist: but then you frequently can’t go on appearances.
They go inside. Bill says yes please to the offer of a drink but then he has to be off. They go into the plush drawing room. Behind Mr Enwood’s back as he gets the drinks Bill grins at Jane. She nervously bites her lip. They have stopped off at a pub on the way here for some lunch and after that Bill drove down a country road to find a place to park. He needed a break, he said. But of course what he wanted was something else. He wanted to screw her.
Jane didn’t want to screw, certainly not. She never did. Not anyone apart from Ian, that was. But Bill was his usual persuasive self and he humped her on a blanket lying under some trees. That of course is fresh in Jane’s mind now, in Mr Tony Enwood’s plush drawing room. With also the thought that without much doubt Mr Enwood, friendly-seeming or not, is going to want the same. As well as… what else…?
Bill goes off and Jane feels a little surge of panic. Left alone with this stranger who is going to want to do scary, frightening things to her. Today, and also tonight. Sitting on the settee opposite him she takes a nervous gulp of her gin-and-tonic. She should never have got into this. Never. Mr Enwood is smiling at her. Smiling at his prey, she thinks.
‘So. The lovely Jane. I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since I first saw your pictures. As I suppose all those other Blushes readers have. And here she is!’
Jane grimaces nervously. ‘Those awful pictures. I didn’t realise when I took the job… Well, you know.’
‘Those shots of your lovely bare bottom? Being caned, etc? But you must have known what Derek Greene wanted. That’s what Blushes is all about after all.’
Jane doesn’t answer. It was true of course. She had been shown some of the magazines. But somehow the reality of actually doing it hadn’t come across.
Tony Enwood smiles again. ‘I told Derek I’d take some shots of you. I may not be a pro like Bill Rawlings but I expect we’ll get something, eh? In my gym for instance. Jane doing a bit of exercising. Your fans would like that I should think. On the exercise bike for instance. You should be good at that — I seem to remember in one of the bits you wrote you said you liked to cycle round those Kent country lanes.’
Jane gets the tour of the house first, which seems vast, rooms everywhere all as plushly furnished as the drawing room. One of the many bedrooms is for Jane tonight, with its en-suite bathroom. ‘OK?’ Tony Enwood says — and behind her his hand squeezes Jane’s bottom.
She mumbles something. Jane hasn’t got anything with her for an overnight stay, because no one had told her she would be coming here. The hand lingers at her bottom. She can’t tell him not to do it of course. Without doubt having her bottom felt up will be the least of what Mr Enwood has in mind.
His voice in her ear says softly, ‘Knickers Jane. You’ve got knickers on. Do you always wear them? Mmm? Well we won’t want them for the exercise bike. A girl needs proper contact on the bike. Bare pussy on the saddle.’
The gym is a large airy room with big windows opening onto the extensive gardens. There are various items of apparatus arranged around the room, including complicated and rather frightening looking weight-lifting gear. And yes, there is an exercise bike over to one side.
‘Are you fit, Jane? But I’m sure you are with that lovely trim figure. Shall we see? Let’s have you on it in just your blouse. And your sandals. But your skirt and knickers off. Freedom of action is what we want.’
Jane experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach. As she pictures what Mr Enwood is saying. She forces a sick sort of smile. Perhaps he is joking.
No Mr Enwood isn’t joking. Well she didn’t really think he was. Jane has got to take her skirt and knickers off and get up on the exercise cycle. Start riding in just her blouse. Her bare pussy rubbing intimately against that soft vinyl saddle.
She wants to protest, say she won’t do it. But Jane knows she can’t. She’s got to do what Mr Enwood wants. Her hands go to the waistband of her skirt. Her face is bright red, she can feel it. And Mr Enwood? Yes, he has got a camera in his hands now from somewhere. He is going to take shots of her. Of her bare bottom on the bike. The bared cheeks of her bottom wobbling as she pumps her nude thighs. Shots that he can give Mr Greene to print in the magazine.
‘Please… don’t take photographs,’ Jane pleads. As now she slides down her brief knickers. Shakily stepping out of them.
Tony Enwood merely grins, and turns on some extra lights. His eyes are fixed on Jane’s nudity. Her shapely thighs, and the ripe curves of her surging bottom-cheeks. In front Jane has automatically slid her hand across the ripe thrust of her blonde-bushed mound, but takes it away when told to.
‘Not shy, are we?’ Mr Enwood asks. ‘Surely our lovely Jane isn’t shy.’ The camera shutter clicks.
And now the awfulness of having to get on the exercise bike like this. With Mr Enwood of course intently watching. Mr Enwood and his camera. Gritting her teeth Jane mounts. One nude leg swinging up and over. Her pussy slit splitting open, and then coming down on the vinyl saddle. The feeling causing her to give an involuntary gasp. As she sits with her open pussy bare on the cool vinyl.
Jane is conscious of Mr Enwood close behind her, with his eager eye on the camera. He comes close in, and his hand cups under the full moon of one bare bottom-cheek splaying out over the saddle.
‘Nice Jane? Does your pussy feel nice like that? I’m sure it gives a girl a nice little thrill.’
Jane doesn’t want to answer. She gives a nervous little laugh, shaking her head. The feel of the slippery vinyl is arousing though.
Mr Enwood hand strokes the surging swell of Jane’s bared bottom. ‘Don’t tell me that, young lady. It’s bound to be. Sitting on a bike saddle spreads a girl’s pussy open, right? The outer lips spread open so that those sensitive inside parts are in direct contact. Isn’t that right? It must feel great!’
Jane gives a desperate little moan. It’s bad enough being like this, on the bike with no skirt or knickers, without Mr Enwood saying things like that.
‘Yes it is, Jane. No need to be shy. I know a girl can get herself off riding a bike, especially with no knickers on. Working her pussy on the saddle as she pedals. Don’t tell me you’ve never done it, on those rides around the Kent country lanes. Out on your bike with no knickers and getting yourself off as you pedal along. Eh Jane? Dreamily working our bare pussy as you think about blokes with big stiff cocks.’
‘No!’ Jane yelps, face flushing. ‘Please Mr Enwood.’
‘Tony,’ he corrects her. ‘Stand up. Stand up on the pedals, and spread your knees a bit.’
‘Noo…ooo…’ Jane breaths. But Mr Enwood insists, so rather shakily she does. Her knees slightly bent and apart. Exposing her pussy. Which of course is where Mr Enwood immediately slides his hand. Up the inside of one smooth thigh, to Jane’s pussy. It has already become somewhat moist. She gives a shuddery little gasp. Mr Enwood tells Jane to keep still. His fingers slip inside her.
‘Yes Jane,’ he breathes. ‘I think you had already started getting off. Naughty girl.’ And the hand gets to work on her. Mr Enwood’s fingers finding Jane’s clit and getting to work on it.
There is nothing Jane can do of course, she can’t stop Mr Enwood. And she can’t help responding. Any girl will if a man gets his hand in her cunt, with his fingers at her clit. Jane’s hips are squirming as she automatically thrusts herself down on the hand. No, she can’t help it, she is working herself off. And very soon she comes. With big shuddering moans.
‘Lovely. Wasn’t that just what a girl needs?’ Mr Enwood says, his hand still at Jane’s now sopping-wet cunt.
She feels awful of course. It’s always awful when a man brings you off like that. When you haven’t wanted it but he’s done it anyway. It makes you feel reduced to no more than an animal: just an animal with those awful basic urges. This is what Jane thinks. Mr Enwood lets go of her and comes round the front. She avoids meeting his eye.
‘Yes I can see you’re a really hot and randy girl, Jane. Like Derek Greene said.’
That makes it even worse of course. ‘No! I’m not!’ Jane protests, now sitting somewhat awkwardly on the saddle. Her pussy is all wet of course and there is an awful slippery feel to the saddle. It would be nice to have a bath or shower.
But there seems no chance of that. Not yet. Mr Enwood wants some action now, on the bike. ‘Come on. Let’s see this hot and randy girl have a nice work-out. Really working at it, Janey!’
And that is what Jane has to do. Really work at it. Push those pedals round as if her life depended on it. Mr Enwood has his camera, shooting away. And he has now got something else. A long, thin cane!
‘Just in case you need a little encouragement to keep you going, Janey.’
He has whipped it smartly in across the undersides of those ripe bottom-globes which under the bright lights are already gleaming with a thin sheen of perspiration. It was a real no-nonsense cut of the cane and really stung.
No! Don’t hit me!’ Jane yelps. She tries to increase her work rate on the pedals but she has been going hard now for some minutes and badly needs a rest.
Grinning Tony Enwood waves the cane in front of Jane’s face. ‘My little stimulator, my dear. You mean you don’t like him?’
She babbles something, thrusting desperately at the pedals. ‘I… need… a rest…’
Nn… Nngggghhhh…
‘You don’t need a rest, young lady. You need more work!
Nnnaahhh! No! No more!
There is no respite for what seems like forever. Jane thrusting desperately at the pedals under the awful lash of the cane — which slices diabolically in at regular intervals. But finally Mr Enwood does allow her to stop. He tells Jane to stand up on the pedals again.
Jane doesn’t think she can, her legs feel like rubber, but she does somehow manage to raise herself. Whereupon Mr Enwood’s hand goes immediately back to where it was before. In between Jane’s thighs, to her now sopping pussy. It is the last straw and her legs do now give way and she collapses over the handlebars. Mr Enwood’s hand is still there though. Working at Jane’s throbbing cunt.
‘Hot and randy, eh Jane! Even more hot and randy now?’
But he does let her get off the bike. He tells Jane to take off her blouse and bra (both now soaking with perspiration) and hands her a dressing gown to cover her sweat-wet figure. She can have a shower in a moment. But first of all…
First of all Mr Enwood wants to fuck her. He tells Jane he wants it. She shakes her head: she is feeling too weak and exhausted for anything. Even being fucked. But naturally. Tony Enwood is not interested in any refusals. He puts his arm round Jane’s waist. ‘Come along darling.’
Back into the drawing room. He tells her to bend herself over the arm of the settee. And part her legs. With a groan Jane flops down. She can’t refuse — she is anyway too exhausted to refuse. Behind her Tony Enwood pulls the dressing gown up over Jane’s back. To bare the sweat-wet and cane-striped bottom-cheeks.
‘Lovely girl,’ he murmurs. Jane groans as he mounts her. Mr Enwood’s big cock at her wet centre. Sliding up into her.
‘Well how did it go?’ Mr Greene asks when Jane gets back in the office. Bill Rawlings has collected her on the way back from his trip. ‘He’s a nice bloke, that Tony. Did you have fun?’
Jane makes a face. She certainly has not had fun. Mr Enwood may have had fun but that is something else. She shakes her head.
Mr Greene puts his arm round her. ‘Tell me all about it. OK?’
No. She can’t. Jane doesn’t even want to think about it. Certainly not talk about it. That business with the exercise bike… and the rest.
But Mr Greene persists and so Jane has to. The exercise bike and those other games.
Mr Enwood was taking pictures so there will be shots of all that for the magazine, pictures of Mr Enwood screwing her, using that remote camera like that awful Mike used in the Canary Islands, it looks like the same one but it couldn’t be could it? They couldn’t know each other, could they? Jane shivers at the thought, just thinking of them getting together discussing her… planning… scheming, it really would be too much!
She wipes it from her mind, but only to start thinking of Mr Enwood again and all those disgusting things he did. She can still feel his short prickly beard up the inside of her soft thighs, and his wet eager tongue searching her, and how could he do that after he’d had his “thing” there again and again (how many times did he do it? Jane is not sure she can remember). There won’t be pictures of Bill screwing her (on the drive back as well as going up). Well that is something, isn’t it?
Mr Greene is pleased to hear he’ll be getting some interesting shots. And now there are these letters from the readers. That one in particular about the competition for Jane. Mr Greene says he is going to go ahead with it straight away.
Jane claimed not to be very impressed but everyone else in the office thinks it’s a great idea though again of course Jane doesn’t think so. So we would like to invite all readers to send in their very best ideas. A Competition! And meanwhile if Mr P.L. would like to contact us again… Poor Jane.

We asked you all to write and suggest what dastardly situations we could put our little JANE into, just for the benefit of our readers you understand, not for our own personal titillation. Of course it would also be of great value to JANE, both morally and financially.
By far the best letter came from Mr P.L. of Bedford who suggested BLUSHES could run a competition in which the first prize is a weekend in charge of JANE.
BLUSHES would supply the venue and Bill, our resident photographer, would go along to ensure fair play or unfair play as the case may be, and of course record the events for our readers who wouldn’t want to be left out of such a mouth-watering event. Bill says he will also take along Melissa, who is a very good cook and a lesbian dominatrix by chance. (Editor: She should add a little spice). He says it might give the photos a new dimension. Poor Jane.
So get your fantasy on paper, send it along, and we will try to print it in every detail and you might even have it all come TRUE!!

Thursday, 29 November 2018


By Paul Melrose from Februs 15
With a whine of over-revved engine and a grinding of gears, the Land Rover lurched forward and finally picked up speed again, weaving its mazy pattern around the narrow dirt road which cut a swathe through the stark forbidding hills. Down below lay the Jamuna river and the border with Burma, the vehicle still an hour away from Rangpur and the UNESCO Bangladeshi aid camp. If the late afternoon sun and humidity were not bad enough, the atmosphere inside the Land Rover was positively simmering.
‘Christ, Linda!’ exclaimed Paula Freeman to the driver ‘I thought you had a driving licence! Sort the bloody gears out, will you! If you do that again, you’ll have my head through the windscreen!’
‘Ah well, if it’s only your head there won’t be much harm done, will there…!’ her companion retorted tartly ‘…now if it was your arse that got damaged it could be the end of the world as we know it! Still I expect that’s insured against accidental damage and over exercise!’
‘Very funny!’ said Paula icily ‘…just cut the wisecracks, little Goody Two Shoes, and try to learn how to drive this thing! We’ve got a long way to go!’
Linda Bell, flushing hotly, made to respond, then gritted her teeth and decided it was not worth the effort, the two girls subsiding into an icy silence as the Land Rover slowly edged its way around the hillside. Both girls were UNESCO volunteers who had asked to work in Bangladesh on the famine relief project and had been paired up to co-drive the relief trucks from camp to camp. On first meeting, both girls had struck up a friendship immediately despite their totally different styles and temperament. While Paula was a total extrovert, blonde and bubbly, Linda was almost the complete opposite. She was pretty and dark-haired, but intense and bookish, almost painfully shy with strangers.
As she steered the Land Rover around the narrow hillside, Linda tried not to let the irritation show in her face but she’d crunched the gears in trying to maintain the speed of the vehicle without changing down, anxious as she was to catch up on time. They were due back from Gaibanda with the month’s supplies at 6pm and she knew there would be a major panic if they were late, given the political sensitivity and danger of the area. There should have been plenty of time but Paula had other needs to satisfy, leaving Linda kicking her heels in frustrated anger and impatience. Paula finally emerged from the quarters of a UNESCO officer, flushed and smiling, to where Linda sat waiting in helpless fury.
‘About bloody time too!’ she’d shouted angrily, ‘now I’ll have to drive like smoke to get us back in time. Have you no thought for anybody else, Paula? God, you’re sex mad!’
‘Oooh dear, is mommy cross?’ Paula had teased, increasing Linda’s anger tenfold, ‘Come on, sweetie. lighten up… sex makes the world go round. You wouldn’t get so wound up if you had a man between your legs occasionally… or often is even better! Perhaps you’re not into men, my sweet! Is that it? I’ll leave my knickers off on the way back if it makes you happy! You can drive one handed! I’m prepared for anything, darling!’
The final gibe had sapped what was left of Linda’s patience and she had simply exploded in rage. She knew Paula was joking, knew she’d overreacted but she couldn’t back down, hence the frigid atmosphere inside the Land Rover. What was worse, she was angry because… oh damn the girl! Linda felt the tears so close and bit her lip, desperately concentrating on her driving.
She was brought suddenly down to earth as Paula brought her small fist down on the dash board in a gesture of annoyance.
‘Oh shit!’ she cried, ‘we’ve forgotten the snake serum. Christ, there’s hardly any left on the base! We’ll have to go back!’
The Land Rover stopped with an exaggerated skid as Linda hit the brakes with force and anger.
‘We’ve forgotten…?’ she muttered, her voice rising in fury ‘…we’ve forgotten? Christ almighty, Paula, you had the bloody list! You checked it off while I signed us in! Was that too difficult? If you weren’t so obsessed with getting shagged senseless!’ Then she felt Paula’s hand gently on her arm.
‘OK, Lin,’ Paula said quietly, ‘let’s not keep fighting. I’m sorry I upset you and it’s my fault but we’ll have to go back. We can ring up from Gaibanda to explain and we can stay the night there. I’ll tell them it was my fault but please, love, don’t mention about Colin… awkward, married you see!’
Linda raised her eyes to the heavens.
‘Jesus, Paula, it’ll be dark before we get there. It’s a two hour drive!’
Paula shook her head, seizing Linda anxiously by the arm.
‘No, not if we get off the mountain road and go through the villages, it’s not…!’ she said confidently ‘…it knocks three quarters of an hour off the journey and it’s easier to negotiate anyway. These mountain passes are bloody dangerous!’
Linda’s eyes widened with concern.
‘We’re not supposed to use that route, not with all the local unrest about. We’ve been warned, Paula, you know that!’
Paula grinned. ‘Oh come on, it’s better than the mountains and the police aren’t interested in us anyway, just the villagers opposed to the Government. We’re harmless!’ She paused and giggled. ‘The worst that might happen is that some of those hunky young guerrillas with rippling chests and huge you-know-whats take us prisoner and then do what they want with us… one after the other. You call that a problem???’ and she rolled her eyes in a theatrical gesture of ecstasy.
‘Stop that sort of rubbish,’ Linda muttered anxiously, ‘you wouldn’t laugh if it really happened… but I suppose we’ll have to risk the villages. It’s far too late to drive around the mountains. Christ, Paula, you really owe me one this time!’
Paula squeezed Linda’s arm in acknowledgement as the dark-haired girl swung the wheel around on the tight track, backing up carefully on to a pull-in before turning the Land Rover back towards Gaibanda. They soon located the steep hill which took them down the mountains and onto the plain that ran alongside the Jamuna river, the fertile life blood of all the small villages along the way. Paula settled back in her seat and stared out of the window, for beneath her devil-may-care exterior a sensitive and caring girl did exist, one who knew she’d put them into this situation through sheer carelessness and she was determined to make it up to Linda at the earliest opportunity. She knew, too, that silence was the sensible option at present, allowing Linda to talk when she’d calmed down.
As they approached the environs of the first small village, Paula sensed that Linda was tensing up at the wheel and she squeezed her driver’s arm gently.
‘It’ll be OK, Lin… you’ll see,’ she said softly and for the first time in ages, Linda smiled at her, a warm reassuring smile of affection.
‘You’re a pain in the bloody arse, you know that?’ Linda muttered, grinning, and both girls laughed in unison, the tension broken at last. Paula had guessed right, for apart from a few stares from the local inhabitants they sailed through each village with no problems, Linda gradually relaxing as the journey continued.
The girls were chatting merrily as the largest of the villages came, into view, Linda decelerating as the first group of small huts on the perimeter were passed. As the vehicle travelled on, both girls stopped talking and looked anxiously from side to side for here there was a sinister change in the atmosphere. There seemed to be large numbers of men on the street all walking or cycling towards the centre of the village, one or two waving raised fists at the vehicle and, when the occupants of the vehicle were identified as young European women, some men had banged on the side of the Land Rover and shouted unintelligible words of abuse.
‘Christ, let’s get through here sharpish!’ Linda muttered anxiously and began to accelerate, nearly knocking a cyclist off his bike to loud shouts of anger from behind them.
‘Take it easy, kid…’ Paula said softly ‘…just drive normally or we’ll really upset them!’ and Linda took the advice, slowing to her previous gentle crawl through the narrow streets. As they reached the end of the street, which opened onto the village square, both girls gasped in horror for the road was packed solid with men gathered in the square all shouting and yelling and there was no way through. In the face of this mob, both girls were grateful for the sight of two police vehicles on the opposite side of the square, in position to prevent through traffic and obviously blocking their route. At the sight of the Land Rover, now hemmed in by the shouting crowd, one of the police officers got out of his car and stalked across the square, brushing the tightly packed crowd out of his path, his face like thunder, until he reached the vehicle and banged on the driver’s window.
Tentatively, Linda lowered the window and the policeman shouted ‘Papers!’
Linda reached under the dash and found both girls’ UNESCO permits, visas and passports which were peremptorily scanned.
‘What are you doing here?’ the policeman demanded in good English. ‘You people are told to use the mountain route. You have no right here!’
Linda stuttered her apologies and explained what had happened and her fear of the mountain route after dark. The policeman listened, unimpressed, but nodded his head.
‘Very well, but now you will have to stay here until we are finished and the crowd is dispersed. Lock the doors of your vehicle and you will come to no harm… but women are not welcome here. Not on days like this!’ and he stalked back to his vehicle before Linda could even enquire what he meant. She could hear the baying of the crowd now with the windows open and it frightened her, her slim body shaking as she closed the window and locked both the doors as Paula, her eyes full of concern, put her hand in Linda’s and left it there.
Suddenly, as both girls watched in bewilderment, another police vehicle drew up behind its companion on the far side of the square and the doors opened, two police officers emerging, one pushing a young man in his late teens whose wrists were handcuffed together. The boy was handsome but obviously terrified, his tear-stained face betraying a fear of things to come. All he wore was a pair of light cotton trousers and the sweat ran down his broad chest, giving the rippling muscles a luminosity in the bright sunlight as he was pushed into the centre of the square by the armed policemen. The boy was pushed, his head bowed, towards the centre of the square where a tall, cross-membered, wooden structure had been set up, augmented only by two cushions bound to it with rope about halfway down.
‘Oh my God, it’s a public execution!’ Linda cried in horror, her face white with shock.
‘No, it’s not…’ Paula replied in a whisper, her voice hoarse and shaky,’ …look at the apparatus with the cushions! It’s a public flogging!’
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a third policeman appeared in the square carrying a thick bamboo cane. At a sign from the officer with the cane, the boy raised his handcuffed wrists above his head and was turned to face the crowd. The boy’s eyes were closed in shame and his lip was trembling as one of the policemen pulled the drawstrings of the cotton trousers and they fell to the ground, exposing the boy completely naked, his light brown penis shrivelled with the fear of what was to come.
‘Christ, Lin, they’re going to cane his bare bottom!’ Paula whispered, her voice shaking with  excitement and Linda felt the perspiration on Paula’s hand gel with her own.
‘I’ve got eyes!’ Linda replied testily, ‘I can bloody see that!’ but her hand gripped Paula’s tightly, her tension apparent. The boy was turned round and his arms strapped to the apparatus, then, following a gruff command, moved his feet apart to allow his ankles to be strapped to the device, his genitals now protected by the cushions.
Both girls stared at the well-muscled body on display, his lean brown back bathed with sweat, the perspiration running in rivulets down the base of his spine and then into the crack between his firm bare buttocks, their muscles flexing and tensing with fear and expectation.
‘Jesus, he’s beautiful!’ Paula gasped, her breathing shallow and intense, her eyes shining as Linda turned briefly towards her friend, her face burning.
‘Shut up, Paula! Just bloody well shut up!’ she hissed, but Paula grinned and squeezed Linda’s hand, the response immediate and intense. They watched and waited.
The cane was raised in the air, then it flashed down and struck the plumb centre of the bare buttocks, leaving an immediate red weal across the pale brown skin. The boy gasped and tensed, his buttocks thrusting forward until stopped by the cushions, the crack of his bottom opening and closing with the pain. The cane flashed down a second time on the same spot and this time the boy’s head went back and his buttocks thrust forwards violently, the welt now livid. As the caning continued, the boy began to cry out and his reddening buttocks began to thrust back and forth in agony.
Inside the Land Rover, Linda’s throat was dry and her head was spinning. No longer conscious of the crowd, her eyes were glued to the spectacle in front of her. Her heart was pounding and her face was flushed as she watched the cane flash down again and again on the naked buttocks. Feelings of shame dominated her mind as she became conscious of the sensitivity of her nipples under the thin cotton blouse and of the dampness between her legs. She was suddenly conscious of low guttural sounds from the passenger seat and she turned briefly, her mouth dropping open as she stared at the bright-eyed, excited young woman beside her.
Paula was leaning forward, her eyes never leaving the scene in front of them, her one hand still gripping Linda’s tightly. Her skirt was pushed up to the top of her thighs and Linda could see the stretched band of white cotton which had been pulled down almost to her knees. Paula sat with legs splayed wide, her free hand moving urgently under her skirt, her eyes bright, her face shining with perspiration. Linda turned back to the spectacle of the boy’s ordeal, shocked by everything she was seeing, incapable of words but frustrated beyond belief. She moved her hand urgently to push up the hem of her skirt then stopped in disgust, biting her lip as she watched the caning continue.
Eventually, after some twenty-five strokes, the caning stopped and the boy was untied, his bottom a mass of crimson weals though no blood had been drawn. As the boy was turned to face the crowd once more to complete his humiliation, both girls gasped at the sight of his now stiffly erect penis. The policeman who had administered the caning made some coarse jest before he pulled up the trousers of the weeping boy and tied them at the waist once more before dragging his victim off to the waiting police car and driving away at speed.
The crowd, which had been baying all the way through the caning, would have turned its attention back to the girls in the Land Rover but the police moved among them, dispersing them rapidly in the direction of their homes.
The policeman who had original-ly demanded their papers strode across to the Land Rover and banged on the window, frowning as a shaken Linda wound it down.
‘That’s one boy who will not spread anti-Government pamphlets for some time!’ he said with venom, gazing at the trim, firm bodies of the two girls with undisguised longing ‘…and let that be a warning to you! If I catch you out here again without the correct papers, I’ll take you to the police station and make sure you both get a good dose of what he got… with your pants down and without witnesses… and don’t think that’s an idle threat!’ then he rapped on the side of the Land Rover and walked away.
‘Filthy sod!’ Paula exclaimed angrily, then she noticed that Linda was red-faced and crying softly with humiliation. Gently she touched Linda’s hand but it was snatched away in anger. Breathing softly, Paula looked anxiously at her friend.
‘They’ve opened the road,’ she said gently, ‘are you fit to drive?’
‘I’m not a bloody kid,’ Linda snapped, ‘yes, I’m fit to drive, now let’s get out of this damned place!’
Paula watched with tender concern as her companion choked back her tears and, with shaking hands, started the Land Rover up and eased it forward, crunching the gears once more in her nervousness. Out on the open road once more the tension in the Land Rover was again electric, neither girl breaking the silence for ten minutes or so until Paula asked softly.
‘Lin, why are you so upset with me. That wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t stop it!’
Linda threw the vehicle around a narrow bend and then turned her flushed face to her companion.
‘No, but you enjoyed it, didn’t you! I saw what you were doing! Oh Paula, how could you be so… so…’ Linda choked on the sentence, the words stuck in her throat as she felt the gentle hand on her arm.
‘And you didn’t, I suppose! Come on, Lin, admit it! I saw your face and heard your breathing. Don’t come the saint with me! You loved it, didn’t you! Wasn’t he just beautiful in the nude? Didn’t you wonder how it would feel to get that cane across your bare bum in front of all those men? God, it was so exciting!’
The vehicle had reached a stretch of open plain as Linda suddenly swerved violently off the road and into a clearing partly sheltered in trees as Paula held on to her seat.
‘Lin, for God’s sake!’ she gasped, ‘what are you doing?’
Linda leapt out of the vehicle without reply and marched round to the passenger door.
‘Out!’ she commanded angrily. ‘Get out of there… now!
Paula, too stunned to argue, did as she was told.
‘Christ!’ she muttered anxiously. ‘You’re not going to leave me here are you? Look Lin, I know I’ve been stupid and it’s all my fault, but please don’t…’
‘Shut up or I will leave you here,’ Linda answered tersely ‘…and just for once in your life do as you’re told without questions! Understood?’
Dumbly, Paula nodded, her face a picture of surprise and bewilderment as Linda went to the back doors of the Land Rover and opened them up. She spent a few seconds in the back of the vehicle before re-emerging, her hands behind her back.
‘Right, Paula, here’s the way it is…’ Linda said forcefully, then as she saw her friend’s mouth open ‘…shut up, I said, or I will just abandon you!’ and Paula miserably shook her head and closed her mouth. Linda began afresh.
‘Thanks to you, we’re over an hour late, we forgot the snake serum and we blundered into a very dangerous situation which could have had awful consequences for us. I hope you’re satisfied! What’s worse is that you thoroughly enjoyed the show and yes, you’re right! To my shame, I enjoyed it too… and it’s given me a damn good idea! So I’m a dyke, am I? That’s what you inferred, Paula… shut up, I said… and that’s pretty hurtful, don’t you think? Well, it’s a good job you remembered some of the items on our shopping list because now I’m able to reward you for that remark and make myself feel a damn sight better into the bargain!’
Paula’s mouth opened once more in disbelief as Linda brought her hands in front of her, hands which were holding a three-foot-long garden cane made of stout bamboo.
‘Lin, you can’t!’ Paula cried weakly but it was impossible to keep the excitement out of her voice. ‘You can’t do that to me! You can’t.’
‘Really’?’ Linda replied quietly, ‘oh I think I can. Anyway I thought you were dying to experience the cane across your bare bum… or was that more hot air? Well, you’re going to get it anyway and I won’t have to force you or threaten to leave you here… you know I’d never do that! All I need to do is to give the real reason why we’re in this mess to the whole base when we return… and you will be really popular with Mr Colin Middleton and his wife, won’t you!’
Paula gasped in horror, her face red with a mixture of emotions.
‘Lin, you can’t! You wouldn’t!’ she shrieked as Linda grinned in anticipation.
‘I will if you disobey me. Now turn around and bend into the vehicle low over the passenger seat, Paula! That’s it, right over with your hands gripping the driver’s seat! Far as you can with your bottom up high!’
Paula gasped but hastened to obey, her body shivering with mild fear but a great deal of excitement as she waited submissively, her hands gripping the driver’s seat, her legs slightly arched, her ample bottom pushed up through the thin skirt as she trembled in anticipation. She took a sharp intake of breath as Linda’s deft fingers found the zipper of her skirt and within seconds it fluttered down around her ankles, followed rapidly by her panties. She lay red faced and bare-bottomed across the passenger seat of the Land Rover, bewildered by the tremendous excitement surging through her loins.
Linda was experiencing similar strange sensations as she stared in delight at the beautiful naked bottom offered up for punishment at her hands, a surge of adrenalin coursing through her body, her crotch suddenly moist with desire. She flexed the whippy cane for a few seconds and drew it back, bringing it down hard across the plumb centre of Paula’s bare buttocks. The experience of watching those lovely bottom-cheeks indent under the cane stroke, then spring back, quivering slightly as the red weal began to glow across the punished rear was equalled only by Paula’s choking squeal as her back rose up from the seat, her hands fluttering desperately in the air for a second before settling for the second stroke, her breathing tense and desperate.
That first cane stroke was more painful than Paula had ever envisaged but somehow she gritted her teeth and made herself ready for the second. She closed her eyes, determined to force back the tears which were already gathering as the white hot bar of the first stroke became a myriad of embers which seemed to spread out over the expanse of her bottom. Then she heard the hiss and had no time to even gasp before the cane again struck her bottom with a sharp crack. This time the squeal was louder, almost a plea, as Paula rose up from the seat, her hands frantically moving towards the site of the pain where a pink weal was beginning to form.
She hardly recognised the voice from behind her, so sharp and dominant was the tone.
‘Get down in position immediately,’ Linda ordered ‘…and if you rise again or try to rub your bottom, I’ll double the punishment!’
With a frantic cry, Paula obeyed immediately, bending forwards once more to grip the far side of the driver’s seat, her reddening buttocks thrust out once more.
The third stroke whipped down across the lower slopes of the quivering bottom and this time Paula howled in pain but held on desperately to the seat. Someone surely had placed a red hot iron on her buttocks and now there was no attempt to hold back the tears as she shook and sobbed but hung on for all she was worth.
Linda was shaking too as she stared at the results of her endeavours, trembling with a desire which she had tried desperately to deny as she gazed at the beautiful bottom which lay submissively in front of her. Her throat dry, Linda raised the cane once more and brought it sharply down across the exact centre of the reddening globes. She was delighted by the response as Paula’s squeal reached new decibel levels and the fourth tramline appeared across the once flawless buttocks.
Despite the intense pain forcing genuine tears of anguish, the heat in Paula’s buttocks was already spreading like a forest fire into her loins and she gasped as the tingling, sensual burning engulfed her vagina, her sex out of control, hot, moist and hungry. She began to tremble as she waited for the next stroke. Suddenly, shamelessly, she needed both Linda and the cane, wanted them desperately. Paula bent lower, then kicked her legs out so that the skirt and panties fell off completely. Quite slowly she parted her legs as wide as the cramped position would allow and thrust her bottom up as far as she could, hearing the gasp behind her.
‘God, you randy little bitch!’ Linda whispered softly as she stared with mounting excitement at the moist, blood red lips under the quivering bottom-cheeks. Hardly able to breathe she raised the cane once more and brought it down hard.
Whaaap, the cane bit into Paula’s bottom once more and she squealed and bucked but kept her position, her breathing now frantic and excited as the burning glow created sensations in every part of her body. She lay in wait for the next, for she could hear Linda’s excited breathing getting louder but the stroke didn’t come… why was she taking so long?
Suddenly she felt soft hands around her waist, stroking and kneading her belly and loins and she began to sigh softly with pleasure as, against her hot bottom, Paula felt the wispy touch of body hair, then the warmth of another naked body as Linda began to embrace her, her warm bare loins grinding gently into Paula’s bottom as the blonde girl began to moan in delight. Paula cried out as a warm finger began to encircle the lips of her vagina before intruding softly, finding the clitoris, stimulating her, the little button swelling and hardening under the soft touch.
‘Get up and turn round!’ the voice ordered and, as if in a dream, Paula obeyed. Her face flushed with excitement as she stared at Linda who stood, completely naked, cane in hand.
‘So you were right,’ the dark-haired girl said softly, ‘I think I was just jealous. Now make love to me or I’ll cane you again and this time you’ll really know about it!’
Paula chit her arms around her friend and kissed her full on the lips, her hand straying to the warmth of Linda’s moist vagina.
‘Anything you say, mistress,’ she said softly ‘…it will give me great pleasure to do your bidding,’ she paused and grinned ‘…but even if I do give you pleasure… and I will… I’ve been very careless and I think you should give me another caning at bedtime. The sort a naughty girl really deserves!’

Wednesday, 28 November 2018

Dance School II — Dancing Discipline — part 2

The completion of last week’s video.
Part 4:
Part 5:
And here is an enticing trailer for the third and final film in the series – who could resist?
Part 6: