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Sunday, 4 August 2019

Kinky Customs

Story from Kane 83 by Linda O’Brien
I followed the female customs’ officer down the narrow corridor, acutely aware of the other following closely behind me, eyes boring like lasers into the back of my neck — or was she ogling the curves of my bottom beneath the thin cotton of my short little mini skirt? Well, call me prejudiced or whatever, but I have a theory about women in uniform — I firmly believe that ninety percent of them are dykes! Radical, I know, but then I’m that sort of girl.
Still couldn’t believe they’d nicked me, though, not even now! I mean, who would have thought the buxom redhead would demand to look in all my bags? And it was only two measly joints, for God’s sake! Wasn’t as if I was trying to smuggle in a kilo of coke or something!
Marcello, the dishy Italian waiter at the Naples hotel where I’d spent the past unforgettable fortnight, had slipped them inside a pair of my knickers while I was packing that morning when he’d come up to say goodbye. ‘A little going away present, cara mia,’ he’d cooed passionately in my ear, hand sliding beneath the hem of my T-shirt and caressing its way up until it cupped my left breast, deft fingers plying my nipple in a way that had me purring immediately…
Oh, God was I going to miss him! Back to Blighty, the old man and his Saturday night fumblings — and goodbye multiple orgasms! But how was I to know I’d fall prey to a dykey Customs’ official with a fetish for fondling female holidaymakers’ undies? I mean, the blokes get a bit embarrassed when they have to poke through your smalls — but her! She’d practically had every pair under her nose sniffing the bloody crotches! Well, an exaggeration, perhaps, but you know what I mean. Hadn’t liked it, though, had she, when I told her if I’d known I was going to run into such a connoisseur I wouldn’t have rinsed ‘em out the night before!
Didn’t feel so cocky now, though, did I, ushered into a spartan, windowless little office with just a desk, chair, grey-painted metal locker with matching filing cabinet, and a portrait of Her Majesty on one wall. Okay, I’m no angel and no stranger to the odd brush with the Law… but all this had a worrying feel about it.
The redhead parked her broad backside on the edge of the desk and took out a packet of Marlborough — my own favoured brand — lighting one and exhaling a long plume of blue-grey smoke in my direction which my widely-flaring nostrils sucked in greedily, almost as if they had a mind of their own.
‘Oh,’ the redhead piped up, ‘want one, do you?’ She removed the packet again and flipped it open, peering inside with all the exaggerated theatricality of a Shakespearean ham. ‘Oh dear, only got fourteen left… and I’ll need all those to see me through my shift. Sorry, dear, just not your day, is it?’
Her concern for my nicotine starvation was heart-breaking, but she still wasn’t finished —
‘What about you, Ange? Got a spare fag on you?’
The curvy little blonde behind me gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘Now, Daw, you know I packed ‘em in. You’re always forgetting. Did it with the patches, remember?’
A comedy double-act Morecambe and Wise, God rest their souls, could have learned from! Definitely first prize in the ‘Funny Twats of the Year’ awards!
‘Like I said,’ the redheaded Ange reminded me — as if I needed it! ‘Not your day, love. But never mind, eh? Anyway, let’s get on, shall we? Kit off…’
‘What?’ I felt the colour drain from my complexion in a flash.
I heard Ange snigger behind me while a cruel little smirk manifested on Daw’s lips — which I dearly wanted to thicken all of a sudden with my tight little fist! And to think it was my taxes which were paying these bitches’ wages! Not that I really paid any tax, so to speak, unless you classed what dear old Gordon Brown stuck on my fags and vodka… but it’s the principle, know what I mean?
Daw leaned forward, her large boobs straining the buttons on her uniform blouse. ‘Well, what did you think was going to happen? You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you? Trying to smuggle drugs into the country… tut-tut! In some part of the world you’d be looking at maybe twenty years inside for such a crime… and some of those foreign nicks —‘
‘Yeah,’ Ange butted in eagerly, ‘and look at them Arab countries. You’d get a right good caning on your bare backside — and in public, too!’
I turned to see the tough little blonde was practically drooling at the thought of yours truly being publicly flogged under a baking-hot sun in some Arabian market square! Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against a girl getting a right old thrill during working hours — but that was my bare arse she was imagining under the lash while she creamed her trolleys!
‘Anyway,’ Daw continued, ‘the Rules and Regs say you’ve got to be strip-searched, so there’s no point in messing about, is there? It’s gonna happen no matter what. After all,’ and she leered obscenely, ‘an imaginative young lady like you can think of so many little nooks and crannies to stash things, can’t she? So let’s have you stripped… and if you can’t manage it yourself I’m sure Ange will be delighted to give you a hand… won’t you, Ange?’
‘Only if it’s strictly necessary,’ the little blonde grinned, already taking a step forward!
‘All right, all right!’ I snapped, raising my hands in a gesture of compliance. ‘I can manage on my own thank you very much!’
Ange looked really disappointed but relaxed again while Daw continued sitting on the corner of the desk leisurely puffing on her fag.
With a deep sigh, knowing there was no way out of this predicament, I began pulling my T-shirt up, painfully aware of the flop as my unfettered boobs sprang into view when I pulled the T-shirt up over my head and off, defiantly tossing it over my shoulder for Ange to catch. Then came the mini-skirt, leaving me only my sandals and knickers. Well, the sandals didn’t bother me at all… but have you ever been forced to take your knickers off when there’s a dykey little blonde hovering right behind you? I could practically feel her longest finger goosing me!
Daw didn’t even try to hide the fact she was ogling my body through the smoke of her Marlborough. Her lecherous gaze lingered on my naked boobs, with me ultra-conscious of how spikily erect my nipples had become due to my nervousness and the distinct chill in the office; then her eyes travelled lazily down to the vee of my crotch, my pubes shaved to a nice little line on either side of my pussy-lips so nothing would poke nosily out of my bikini-bottoms when I’d been on the beach or relaxing at the pool-side. To think, I’d lapped it up being fancied by all those muscular hunks and couldn’t wait to get my bikini-top off — and the bottoms a little later if one took my fancy — and now look at me! Daw took a final drag on her cigarette, stubbed it out in the tiny little ashtray on her desk without looking (because her gaze was locked between my thighs!), then stood up and crossed to the metal filing cabinet. She tugged open the top drawer… and brought out a packet of surgical gloves and a jar of Vaseline!
To say I gulped and suddenly felt sick is an understatement! And there’s nothing worse than knowing you can’t do a bloody thing to prevent the inevitable! The 7th Cavalry weren’t going to come bursting through the door to rescue me — and even if they had, with my bloody luck they’d have turned gay to a man! So all I could do was stand there, suddenly shivering, watching while Daw opened the packet and slowly began slipping the thin latex gloves on over her hands. But the worst was when she unscrewed the top off the jar of Vaseline dipped her finger deep into that gunk! Oh the disgusting sound it made — especially when she pulled her finger out.
‘Right, then’ Daw announced, advancing towards me with gloved finger rampant! ‘Bend right over, legs well apart and grasp your ankles….’
Now what followed wasn’t that horrendous. I’d experienced similar at the hands — or finger — of a female doctor, if for very different reasons. The big contrast this time was that Daw made little secret of the fact she was enjoying herself immensely, and through my open legs, albeit upside-down, I could distinctly see that Ange was similarly getting a not insubstantial thrill from the proceedings. I only regretted the fact that I wasn’t deriving any pleasure from the exercise! And, being an ever-resourceful cockney girl, I began to wonder if the seriousness of my predicament couldn’t be diminished in some way. So, once Daw was satisfied I wasn’t hiding anything anywhere, I straightened up when told I could do so and turned to face both lasciviously smirking women.
‘Could go a fag,’ I said cockily, no longer bothered about my nakedness. Well, we were all girls together, weren’t we… almost, anyway!
Daw pursed her lips, pondering for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Why not?’ she said and took out her pack of Marlborough and offered me one. I smiled at her as she held her lighter out for me and I leant forward to puff on the flame, gratefully inhaling the delicious smoke deep into my lungs, that delirious nicotine panacea flooding through me from head to toe and instantly relaxing me — all of me. And looking into Daw’s big green eyes we began to understand each other… more and more.
‘What’s on your mind?’ she said, sensing that whatever was coming wasn’t going to mean any skin off her nose or Ange’s… just the opposite.
I took another drag on the cigarette, letting the smoke trickle luxuriously down my nostrils before replying. ‘Look, there’s no sense in this going any further, is there? How do you two benefit from me getting banged-up I know you girls don’t want to see poor little me go to prison for such a minor little thing… so isn’t there some arrangement we can come to, one which will benefit all of us… in one way or another?’
Daw smiled, immediately catching my drift, but poor Ange was a little bit dumber and needed things spelling out for her in big capital letters.
‘What’s she on about, Daw?’ Ange frowned, chewing her lip in bafflement.
Daw continued smiling at me. ‘Go on,’ she prompted.
I pursed my lips. ‘Well, let’s say I get the impression you two girls aren’t exactly opposed to ‘all-girl’ fun, if you know what I mean; and I also get the impression you wouldn’t be all that averse to a friendly little get-together with yours truly here…’
The penny was beginning to drop even with Ange, but I could see there was still a little barrier standing between me and freedom… and being the shrewd little cockney sparrow that I am I sensed certain complications brewing…
‘Well,’ Daw said, winking at Ange and not even trying to hide it, ‘you’ve certainly got me and little Ange sussed, and your proposition would be very acceptable… but you have broken the law and there should be some degree of punishment….’
It was now my turn to give a puzzled frown. ‘Okay, let’s hear it.’
‘Well, what Ange said earlier about how in the Arabic countries you might well have been sentenced to corporal punishment… not that I’m suggesting anything so harsh as a flogging but… well, how about a good old-fashioned spanking? Of course it would have to be quite severe — I mean, it’s got to hurt or where’s the lesson in that? And it might have to be in two stages — you know, me giving you a dose, then Ange another — but I’m sure you’ll agree that’s better than the Law getting involved.’
I gave her a long look. Might have guessed these kinky dykes would come up with something unusual! But like she said, it was better than all this going further. I mean, I did have a little bit of previous and trying to smuggle dope into the country could really land me in it. So what real choice did I have?
‘Hang about, though — this cancels out my other little proposition, right? One thing or the other…’ I let it hang there, feeling I had a bit of an edge for the first time.
Daw nodded, smiling. ‘Okay, but you never know… you might enjoy it and want to go further.’
They both sniggered but I wasn’t amused. I remembered the hidings I used to get off my mum and dad — no bloody way was I going to enjoy it!
‘Well,’ Daw announced, ‘might as well get on with it, then, hadn’t we?’ She pulled the chair out from behind the desk, carried it into the centre of the room, and set it down. Then she settled her broad bum on the seat; wriggled to get comfy and looked up at me expectantly, smoothing the lap of her uniform skirt until there wasn’t a solitary wrinkle. ‘Over my lap, my girl… when you’re ready…’
I took a final drag on my fag, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and then moved somewhat self-consciously to Daw’s right side, staring down at her lap, which was quite a broad theatre of operations. Did Ange, I suddenly wondered, ever prostrate herself submissively in this position I was due to adopt? I could imagine anything of this kinky pair! I could visualise Daw in tight shiny leather, and perhaps with Ange similarly attired — but with a cut-out round the back for her fat little bum to poke through so Daw could give her a right good tanning with a riding whip or something! And God help me if the thought of it didn’t suddenly have me itching in the vicinity of my you know what! Don’t tell me I was on the bloody turn, too!
‘When you’re ready…’ Ange urged, obviously impatient to proceed, so I took a deep breath, inched even closer, reached down to place the flat of my palms on her firm thighs, and lowered myself down across her lap which… well, which was really warm and quite comfy, in fact. But I don’t think I’ve ever been so conscious of my bum before! Especially not when Daw grasped me round the waist and drew me even further across her thighs so that my bottom was now perched directly in the centre of her lap and I was right on tiptoe and unable to get any real purchase which meant I couldn’t clench my bum-cheeks or squeeze my thighs together as tight as I would have liked! So she was able to get a really nice view — as was her little mate because she assumed a position which guaranteed a much more pleasing outlook!
‘Are you ready, then, madam?’ Daw asked, and I couldn’t help shivering because she smoothed her cool palm over my right bum-cheek and gave it an almost affection little squeeze.
‘Y-Yes,’ I stammered, suddenly gritting my teeth and screwing up my eyes a little in nervous anticipation of what was to come.
SMACK!
For the briefest of an instant I didn’t feel a thing; then — ‘Ouch!’ — the shock of the impact hit me and my bare bum jerked up of its own accord —
SMACK!
The warm glow which had quickly suffused my right bum-cheek was now matched with a similar warmth which rapidly spread through the other half of my bottom… and I suddenly realised I was definitely in for it! But I was determined to grit my teeth and not make a right spectacle of myself in front of these two no matter what!
SMACK!
After another dozen slaps my resolve began to weaken a little, though. Daw really knew her business and I couldn’t help wondering where she got all her practice. Was this a common thing, then? Catch any shapely-bottomed female trying to smuggle in a few extra duty frees, then whip her in here, put the frighteners on, soften her up even further with the old rubber glove and Vaseline — then bingo! Or, if business wasn’t all that brisk, did Daw keep her hand in, if you’ll pardon the pun, by whipping the feisty little Ange over her knee? The thought of this jollied me up no end! Yes, wouldn’t mind seeing that little madam get a right good spanking on her plump little bare arse.
SMACK!
‘Ouch!’
My poor bum really was beginning to smart now, to say the least! I tried and tried, biting my lip, but the tears began to trickle despite all my efforts. Her palm must have splatted down on my bum-cheeks at least four dozen times now, and she certainly didn’t use Fairy Liquid in her washing up because her bloody hand felt tough as leather!
‘Learning our lesson, are we?’ she inquired.
SMACK!
I don’t know about we, but I bloody well was!
‘Ah! Yes!’ I screeched, unable to prevent my hand from clawing rearwards, attempting to shield my vastly-swollen arse-cheeks, but Daw simply grabbed my wrist and effortlessly hauled my hand out of the way and up my back, just far enough to not quite hurt, but with the threat of breaking bones and or dislocations if my struggles persisted!
‘Naughty, naughty! I haven’t finished with you yet, lady; and when I have… well, don’t forget Auntie Ange is waiting her turn!’
SMACK!
‘Ow oh oh oo!’
All right, all right, it was pathetic, I know! But my poor backside was absolutely raw and on fire! Tears were coursing down my cheeks, which I knew were flushed and puffy from crying, and I was all too aware that I must look a right old mess and thank Christ no-one who mattered could see the state I was in or the spectacle I was making of myself! But anyone who tells you a spanking is kid’s stuff… well, just tell him or her to drop their pants and bend over for a sample!
Eventually, though, even the vicious Daw apparently felt I’d had enough and she brought her palm to rest on one swollen, pulsating bum-check, fingers curling lasciviously into the deep cleft between my moons, and she left me there to sob my heart out for several minutes, those fingers straying up and down, up and down, but with me not daring to utter so much as a strangled whisper of protest no matter how many times those fingertips strayed over my bum-hole and pussy…
‘Right, then,’ she said at last, almost gently lifting me up off her lap so that I was once more on my feet beside her, and my palms flew immediately to the cheeks of my poor, poor arse, ever so carefully trying to massage away some of the god-awful burning sensation which felt like I’d been sat on a wasps’ nest for the past ten minutes!
‘And now it’s your turn, Ange…’
Through my misty vision I watched as a beaming Ange moved quickly to the metal locker, pulling open the door, reaching inside… and bringing out a whippy, crook-handled cane of the pedigree usually associated with sadistic headmasters!
‘Oh no!’ I cried. ‘No, you can’t use that on me! Pleeeaaaase!’
Talk about deaf ears! Ange ignored my tearful entreaties, took me by the arm and hauled me over to the desk, turning me to face it, then pushing me down until I was sprawled across the top, my poor defenceless bottom once more thrust up in the firing-line.
‘Grip the edge,’ she ordered, ‘and grip it tight! I’m only going to give you six — but if you jump up or try to cover your bum I’ll start all over again. Got that?’
‘Y-Yes,’ I sobbed wretchedly, feeling my nipples harden even more against the cold wood of the desktop as my bum-cheeks contracted of their own accord in fearful anticipation of what they were about to receive…
Swiss-sshhhhh — THWACK!
Swiss-sshhhhh — THWACK!
Swiss-sshhhhh — THWACK!
Swiss-sshhhhh — THWACK!
Swiss-sshhhhh — THWACK!
Swiss-sshhhhh — THWACK!
Forty minutes later and I was feeling much better. A cigarette and two stiff G&Ts work wonders on the discomfort of an extremely tender bottom… as does the soothing administrations of your two best friends… Dawn and Angela!
Yes, the Daw and Ange, no less! All just one of our fantasies, you see? Three bored housewives who, while our hubbies are out there slaving to earn a crust, pass the time away with a few kinky games with the curtains safely drawn. Don’t our hubbies know? ‘Course they bloody do! How does a girl keep her big red bum out of sight until the damage dies down when hubby likes it doggy fashion at least some of the time?! And ‘course it turns them on! But do we let them join in? No, not yet; we girls are having far too much fun, getting the best of both worlds! Oh, yes, the day will come when the boys get in on the act… but in the meantime… tomorrow I’ll be playing the strict headmistress, Angela the school nurse, and Dawn the naughty sixth-form schoolgirl who is due a well-needed lesson! Mind you, I think the school nurse needs taking in hand, too! The stories I’ve heard about her and her fondness for enemas! H’mmm, well what would you do in my place…?

1 comment:

  1. Very hot. Love your writing and sketches! Goes so well with peach vodka and naughty desires of spanking girls....

    ReplyDelete