The Birthday surprise- Part Three

“Get up.”

She scrambled to readjust her clothes, trying to look dignified and normal for their guest.

He looked at her with stern bemusement. “What are you doing?” He did not wait for an answer. “Get into the corner, knickers down, skirt up, and don’t even think about moving before I tell you to.”

The confidence the man had in his authority was such that he did not wait to see her carry out his orders, but went straight to the front door and then ushered Ali to the kitchen.

After only a few minutes Marie started to feel a little less fear, and leaned backwards to try and hear what was being said. It was unkind and inconsiderate of him to put her into the corner when Ali arrived. He showed no respect at all for her position.

She could hear only muffled voices from the kitchen, and felt ignored and bypassed. Why couldn’t they discuss it with her? Why didn’t her feelings count? She was the one who had orchestrated this, after all.

‘It will be so confusing and bewildering for Ali,’ Marie thought, ‘and it would be fairer for everyone if I put myself to rights and joined them, like a normal person.’

Then she heard footsteps approaching and recognised Ben’s steady tread, and almost slammed her nose into the wall in her haste to get back into position.

Ben stood right behind her, his fingers carelessly stroking her exposed and still sore bum as he spoke. His voice sounded deep and certain in her ear, and in another situation it would have turned her on, listening to him speak so deeply and so close to her, but right then she was too frantic about Ali being there for that to happen.

“I have had a conversation with Ali. She and I have spoken about how she feels and what she wants. I also know what I want. Pull your knickers up and come out of the corner. Sit on this.”  He plonked a chair in the middle of the floor. “Right. Spank her. Let’s see how you do.”

Marie had pulled her knickers up before he finished that fragment of his sentence but she stood still, looking from the chair to him and then to Ali. Her stomach fell and she did not know why. This is what she wanted all along, but in front of him it felt stupid all of a sudden, as if she were a child playing at a silly game.

“If you need me to show you how it’s done, I can spank you before you spank her,” he offered, noting the forlorn and hopeless look in her face.

Something in Marie snapped to attention and she turned to face a rather less compliant Ali than she had seen the other night. She searched for her work voice and hoped she had located it as she declared to Ali, “Right then young lady, let’s finish what we started last week.”

Ali stood and stared, her chin jutted out in a way that Marie had not seen before, and her stance somewhat relaxed, but also somewhat ‘come and get me if you think you are hard enough.’ Marie paused for just a second, ignoring Ben as best she could, then took Ali’s wrist and sat on the chair as she yanked the girl over her lap. It was an undignified landing and Ali grunted softly as her stomach hit Marie’s thighs, but in a moment they were sorted out, Ali’s skirt was up, and her knickers at half-mast.

Marie felt more confidence then, which was impressive considering the pain in her bum and how having a woman, even a petite one, over her lap made that swollen bum feel even less comfortable. She tried to think of something Toppy to say, but Ben would know she was nicking all his lines so she resorted to action.

Slapping sounds soon filled the room, but that was all. Marie did her best to light a fire in Ali’s bottom, and she knew she was getting some good ones in but it simply was not having an impact. Ali glared at the floor and although Marie could not see her eyes, she knew how little effect she was having. She redoubled her efforts and tried with all she was worth to draw even a small squeal from Ali, but there was nothing. A sinking feeling grew in her stomach until suddenly she was reminded why Ali had been at trouble at work in the first place.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the girl declared, “My grandmother can spank harder than that and she’s been dead five years.”

Marie heard Ben’s snort, which was rich considering that if she had said that over his lap, she would have to write a letter of condolence to her own bottom. She looked down at the light pink globes and realised she was sunk. She did not have anywhere to take it.

“God,” she moaned, “You can be such a little bitch at times.”

She spanked harder as she lost her temper. She had tried so hard, planned so well, and it had felt so good the other night, that it was beyond thoughtless of the other two not to help her. The frustration and confusion she felt poured out of her hands and onto Ali’s darkening bottom.

Ali felt the loss of control, felt the change of tempo and dynamic, and twisted herself off Marie’s lap, landing in a heap on the floor.

“A bitch? Seriously? Me? Have you even considered what you’re like?” She stood and glared, and Marie stood to meet her eye to eye.

Neither had seen the other like this. Marie’s poise and confidence from work had flown from her, and Ali’s compliance and eagerness to please had gone the same way. With their roles gone it felt less like a journey into submission and more like a battle of wills.

Ben recognised the signs in Marie that he knew preceded a vitriolic blow up, and decided enough was enough.

“My turn, I think.” His deep, calm voice made both women turn, and he took Ali’s hand and pulled her firmly down over his knee as he sat in the chair Marie vacated. “You.” He barely glanced at Marie. “Corner.”

Marie, so fired up she could barely speak, uttered an indiscriminate sound of anger and searched for words to refuse him, but then she saw for the first time how Ben looked when he spanked a girl. She watched his strong forearm pump up and down in a measured and methodical manner. She watched the way his head bent over his task, and how futile and tiny Ali’s protests sounded.

She stripped down her knickers and put her nose to the corner and wondered, “Why couldn’t I get her to make a noise like that?”

But inside she knew the answer, she knew it as surely as she knew what she was, with her nose poking into the familiar corner of the room and her bottom still sore behind her.

She listened as the sounds from Ali grew urgent and distressed, almost angry, and how they journeyed to fearful, to weepy, and then to just little noises of pain.

She had not realised how vocal it was, how much a girl gives away when she is spanked.

It was a novel all of its own, she thought. This is the sound of submission. She knew she was not destined to create that sound in another.

It was as though Ben had heard her because at that moment he took the totally pliant and repentant Ali to the dining table and bent her gently over it. She started to panic and he put a warm hand on the small of her back while he instructed Marie to come and put herself next to Ali.

She obeyed, bending over the table one space to Ali’s right.

Ben left the room and the girls did not look at each other, but Marie whispered, “Are you okay?” to Ali, who replied very softly, “Yes.”

Neither girl dared look back when Ben returned but when they heard the swishing sound they knew what he brought with him.

“Ali.” She jumped when he said her name and clenched her bum. “I think it only fair that Marie get the first set of these, don’t you agree?”

He did not wait for a response and Marie made a little “o” of horror with her mouth before the first burning stripe bit. She did her best to be brave and not show Ali how much it hurt, but by number four she was begging him to stop. At six he did.

“Your turn, Ali,” he declared.

Ali had no idea what to expect, but Marie’s sobs told her that she should be afraid. He gave her three.  At each stripe Ali shrieked and pushed her neat, tanned frame harder into the table, as if to slide through the wood and escape.

Ben went on, six more for Marie and three more for Ali, while the girls marked under his tutelage, while they altered. They pushed together on the table, holding hands, hot twisting fingers intertwined for support, and Ben knew he had done his job.

“What is it you really wanted, girls? What is it you wanted to know? To explore?”  He knew the answer, of course. He knew Marie better than anyone, and Ali had told him all he needed in the kitchen.

The women struggled with themselves, then they looked into the other’s tear muddled eyes and, still bent over the table, their red, marked bottoms facing him, they kissed.

“I want to take you to bed,” Marie whispered. It was a question, a plea, a hope, to Ali, to Ben, and to herself. “I want you to come too.”

Ben waited and looked at Ali, who held Marie’s hand and nodded, not quite looking up at him, but he could see the smile on her lips.

Ben lay on his side and watched at first.

The girls covered each other, their hands flew across the other’s skin like birds in mid-flight, tracing the currents and following a pattern of longing that only the other could know. They barely stopped kissing for breath, hands finding every tiny part, all questions answered. They knew how it felt to be touched. They knew where to travel so lightly that it was hardly a whisper, and where to insist deeper and more.

Marie’s head lowered, kissing Ali’s breasts and stomach and farther, seeking the place that would make her gasp and forget herself. She gave Ben a knowing look as she took Ali over the brink, and Ben held Ali safe as she bucked and came; a moment then of still, of calm and quiet, Ali still breathing hard, and Marie still eager and insistent.

That was when the movement changed; stroking, pushing hair away from eyes, fingertips tracing lips, and seeking the third. His hard body came between the two, his penis stiff and welcome.

Inquisitive lips and nuzzling mouths journeyed over one another and over him, wrapped their tongues around him, girls finding each other and him, in turn, and all at once.

Ben placed Marie above Ali, on her knees, a familiar posture. He entered her from behind, watching the cane marks on her bum as he held it, putting himself gently in and up to the hilt, pulling her to him in a gentle rhythm. Ali lay underneath, watching in awe. 

 

She touched Marie persistently, delicately. Her light fingers fluttered in Marie’s folds as she leaned up to take one nipple in her mouth and then the other. Ben was above them both, slow and steady, building the pace until Marie started to break.

She cried out as she came and it was too much; she could not cope with the intensity, but Ben held tightly to her hips and completed into her.

Afterwards, lying down, a pile of warm, languid lovers, two of them said, “Happy birthday, Ben.”

“Well, yes, it really is. And you,” he said, and kissed Marie lightly on the nose, “are a rubbish Top. I think Ali needs someone a bit more forceful.”

He smiled as he fell asleep surrounded by lovers.

(pictures provided by Arianna)

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