Portrait of a Disciplinarian (27 page)

‘I object!’ one of Myrtle’s friends called out, stepping forward, only to find her way blocked by Bobbie.

‘We’ll do this properly,’ Bobbie insisted.

‘Absolutely,’ Clementina agreed. ‘What is the objection?’

‘What is the objection?’ the girl retorted. ‘Look what the little beast’s done to Myrtle!’

‘I seem to recall Myrtle doing similar things to Stephanie on a number of occasions,’ Clementina pointed out, to an immediate murmur of agreement. ‘Not quite so inventive, perhaps, but all the same. Objection overruled.’

‘The trophy has to be stolen, anyway,’ the girl persisted. ‘Myrtle’s been kidnapped, not stolen.’

‘That’s true,’ Clementina admitted. ‘Stiffy?’

Stephanie gave a thoughtful nod before replying.

‘Do you all agree that Myrtle’s own trophy counts?’

There was a chorus of agreement, and glances to where Singularis Porcus was snuffling at a bookshelf, apparently considering whether a richly bound collection of the works of Charles Dickens would make a worthwhile snack.

‘So you can steal a pig?’ Stephanie demanded.

‘Of course you can steal a pig!’ Myrtle’s friend answered. ‘That’s not –’

‘Well then,’ Stephanie interrupted, ‘I don’t see what the difficulty is. After all, anybody who’s ever met Myrtle knows that she’s a complete pig.’

Her remark was greeted by laughter, clapping and finally cheers. She sat back, smiling happily, sure she’d won even as Clementina called for a show of hands.

‘Those in favour of Miss Myrtle Finch-Farmiloe as secretary?’

Eleven hands were raised and Stephanie’s grin grew broader still. Clementina nodded and made an entry in the ledger book in front of her, then spoke again.

‘Those in favour of Miss Stephanie Truscott as secretary?’

Twenty-three hands were raised, and Stephanie shut her eyes in pure bliss, basking in her triumph and the adulation of her friends as they clustered around her, a spell broken only by a terrified squawk from Myrtle. She had been squirming a little before, perhaps in reaction to the hot mustard smeared on her bottom hole, but was now wriggling frantically, and with good
reason
. Singularis Porcus, tiring of Dickens, had decided to investigate the daffodil protruding from Myrtle’s anus. A single bite had removed the head, a second the greater part of the stem, and he now appeared to be considering the merits of hot mustard as a condiment for what remained. Myrtle clearly disapproved.

‘Get it off me!’ she wailed. ‘I’ll be nice to you, Stiffy, I promise, but get it off me! Get it off me!’

Her voice had risen to a scream and she had bitten clean through the wax apple that had been in her mouth, so Stephanie decided to take pity. Rising, she pulled a bunch of flowers from a vase and used it to distract the pig’s attention, then wheeled the trolley and Myrtle from the room, shutting the door behind her.

Never had she felt so supremely triumphant. Her head was singing with victory, and she was determined to take full advantage of the situation while she could. Wheeling Myrtle back into the dining room, she closed the door behind her, propped a chair beneath the handle and addressed her captive.

‘Wasn’t that kind of me?’ she asked. ‘And after you’d pinched my pig, you little rotter.’

‘That was fair,’ Myrtle said sulkily. ‘Now could you untie me, please?’

‘Presently,’ Stephanie promised, ‘but not until you’ve said thank you.’

‘What for?’ Myrtle demanded. ‘Look, Stephanie, if you –’

‘Now, now,’ Stephanie interrupted, ‘let’s not have any of that, shall we? You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you, and say thank you nicely, or I might have to find out if this cheeseboard makes a good paddle – not a rowing paddle, you understand, but a paddle for spanking naughty girls’ bottoms.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Myrtle spat as Stephanie picked up the large wooden cheeseboard by its handle. ‘Ow! All right, you would dare! Ow! You would, I said you
would
! Ow! Ow! Stephanie, that hurts! All right, you utter beast, thank you! Ow! Thank you, I said! Ow!’

‘That’s not what I meant by saying thank you,’ Stephanie replied, putting down the cheeseboard. ‘This is.’

She lifted the front of her dress, showing off her bare sex, just inches from her captive’s face.

‘Oh God!’ Myrtle groaned, staring horror-struck at Stephanie’s quim.

‘Think of all the times you’ve made me do it,’ Stephanie said.

‘But … but you enjoy it!’ Myrtle protested. ‘You like to be made to do that sort of thing!’

‘Maybe,’ Stephanie admitted. ‘Maybe you could too. Now lick!’

She moved closer, pushing her belly into Myrtle’s face.

‘Lick, you little beast!’ she demanded, and reached for the cheeseboard.

‘This isn’t fair!’ Myrtle whined. ‘Please, Stiffy, I said thank you. No, not the cheeseboard, it hurts awfully! Ow! No, Stiffy … Ow! Ow!’

She began to buck and wriggle as the heavy cheeseboard smacked down on her bottom, but her pain and distress only made Stephanie more determined, and more excited. Taking Myrtle firmly by the hair, she pushed her belly further towards her and began to spank her. The meaty slaps rang in the empty room.

‘Lick me, you little pig!’ she screamed, and her voice faded to a sigh as Myrtle gave in, extending her tongue to lap tentatively between Stephanie’s sex lips. ‘That’s right … just there. That’s not so bad, is it? Not so bad at all …’

Myrtle didn’t answer, but she seemed to have given in, licking obediently at Stephanie’s out-thrust quim. Dropping the cheeseboard, Stephanie pulled herself closer, still holding Myrtle by the hair and still spanking, but now with her hand and punctuating the smacks with caresses on the beaten girl’s hot bottom cheeks.

‘That’s nice,’ she sighed, ‘just like that. Now rub yourself while you do it, you little beast, or I’ll pee in your mouth.’

Myrtle gave a violent shiver at Stephanie’s words, but resisted, clenching her fists in her determination not to put her fingers to her sex, and to be seen not to do it.

‘I will,’ Stephanie warned. ‘I’ll pee in your mouth.’

She began to spank harder as she spoke, making Myrtle’s bottom cheeks bounce and quiver, and spread to show off the smeared mustard between, and the few inches of daffodil stem still protruding from her anus. Holding Myrtle’s head firmly in place, Stephanie slipped a hand between the warm red cheeks, to ease the stem free and replace it with her own finger. As she forced open the tight, slippery little ring, she was wishing she was a man so that she could sodomise Myrtle as she herself had been sodomised by Porker Porthwell. She could see Myrtle’s quim too, which was wet with juice and squeezing softly in involuntary excitement, but her fists remained obstinately clenched.

‘You may as well rub it,’ Stephanie pointed out.

Myrtle responded with an angry shake of her head, but continued to lick, sending little pulses of pleasure through Stephanie’s body. Unable to hold off any longer, Stephanie gave in to her pleasure, allowing her climax to rise as her eyes feasted on Myrtle’s bound and helpless body, her finger easing out of her enemy’s mustard-soiled anus, her cunt pressed hard forward. She cried out as the ecstasy hit her, cruel and triumphant, twisting her hand in Myrtle’s hair and sticking her finger as far as it would go, deep into the hot, mushy cavity of Myrtle’s rectum.

For all her delight in her revenge, it was only by biting hard on her lip that she managed to prevent herself crying out Myrtle’s name, along with a flood of apologies, as her orgasm began to fade. When at last she pulled away, her legs were shaking so badly that she had
trouble
standing, but she was still determined to make Myrtle break.

‘Now you,’ she demanded. ‘Do it, and for being so stubborn, you can suck my finger.’

She had pulled her finger out, brown and slippery with mustard and juices, and offered it to Myrtle, whose face was already soiled with Stephanie’s own cream. Myrtle gave a single, sharp shake of her head.

‘I’ll pee on you, Myrtle,’ Stephanie warned. ‘I had most of a bottle of claret at lunch, as you saw.’

Again Myrtle shook her head.

‘I mean it,’ Stephanie said, pulling Myrtle’s head back by the hair. ‘If I let go, it’ll go right in your face. Now rub off!’

Myrtle merely screwed her face up, obviously expecting it to be peed on at any moment.

‘You asked for this,’ Stephanie said, and let go.

Rich yellow piddle sprayed from Stephanie’s cunt, full in Myrtle’s face, splashing both of them and soiling the floor. At the same instant Myrtle’s fingers uncoiled, her mouth opened and she eagerly swallowed Stephanie’s pee as she masturbated herself. Stephanie burst out laughing, delighted by her conquest, indifferent to the hot piddle running down her legs and splashing over her dress. The sheer cruel joy she felt was almost as satisfying as an orgasm.

‘That’s the way!’ she crowed. ‘Drink it all up, you filthy little trollop! Drink up my pee-pee, Myrtle, drink it all up like the dirty little strumpet you are!’

She finished with a long peal of laughter, because as Myrtle swallowed she had started to come, her bottom cheeks squeezing and a long brown worm of mustard emerging from her anus as the muscular little ring went tight. At that instant somebody tried the door. Stephanie heard the scrape of the chair on the floor as it began to open, but she was in no mood to stop, and couldn’t have held back her pee if she’d wanted to.

‘Bugger off, will you!’ she yelled. ‘I’m pissing on my tart!’

The scraping noise stopped and Stephanie pulled herself close, holding her cunt to Myrtle’s open mouth as she let the last of her pee out and giggling as she watched it dribble from the sides and run down her legs into the wide yellow puddle in which she was now standing. Myrtle had finished coming, but that didn’t stop her from swallowing her final mouthful, and Stephanie realised that her triumph was complete.

Only then did she turn round to see what was happening with the door, to find it open, framing a woman who stood staring at her, speechless with horror – her mother.

Nine

STEPHANIE STEPPED FROM
the train down to the platform of Okehampton station, her spirits still soaring from her victory. Admittedly, what had happened with Myrtle had taken second place among the most embarrassing moments of her life, ahead of the previous number two, her virgin buggering from Gussie Fitzroy, but behind being caned bare in front of the assembly at Teigngrace. Her subsequent spanking had been long and hard, delivered across her mother’s knee with a leather strap and followed by an hour of standing in the corner of the dining room with her bare red bottom on display while her father and mother enjoyed a dinner of cold consommé, poached trout and jam roly-poly pudding with cream. Even that had done little to dampen her spirits, and the sheer joy of having at last conquered her rival sang in her head to the exclusion of all else, including her mother’s lengthy and pointed lecture before she had been given another spanking for good measure and escorted to Paddington station that morning.

Getting off the train as it began to gather speed, returning to Gaspers in order to retrieve her pig, hiring a dray to take it to Paddington and boarding the very next train had been, she felt, a masterpiece of bold and decisive strategy. All that remained was to return Singularis Porcus to his sty, and with the blame laid firmly at Myrtle’s door she stood every chance of getting away with the entire escapade. She didn’t even have to
worry
about being caught returning the pig, because she could explain that Myrtle had abandoned him in London, and thus paint herself as the honest and responsible party while getting Myrtle into yet deeper trouble. The only disappointment was that Myrtle’s parents didn’t believe in physical discipline, and despite extensive provocation it was hard to imagine Sir Murgatroyd Drake taking matters into his own hands. He would, however, undoubtedly refuse to countenance his son’s marriage to a known swine rustler.

It still seemed best to stick as closely as possible to the original plan, another piece of advice she had picked up from her father’s military reminiscences. The platform at Okehampton boasted a Ladies’ convenience, where she changed back into her Brown Shorts uniform, which she had left tucked into the angle between roof and beams. A few adjustments to her hair, the removal of her make-up, and she might have been a rather pretty boy – so pretty, in fact, she considered, that anybody who saw her might begin to have doubts about Claude Attwater’s private preferences.

Lias Snell was supposed to be meeting her from the train; unfortunately a later train, but even that failed to daunt her. One of the reasons they had chosen Okehampton station was that it stood closer to the edge of the moor than to the town, which allowed her to climb the flank of East Hill on the army road and head far out on the moor. A few passing soldiers gave her curious looks, and Singularis Porcus had begun his irritating habit of snuffling at her again, but she pressed on, determined to reach the woods by Stukely Hall, where she could house the pig and wait for Lias on the Okehampton Road.

After making arrangements with Lias, and probably being made to suck his penis once more, she would have to return to Driscoll’s and face the consequences of going up to London while she was in disgrace. It would almost certainly be the cane, and if she arrived in time for dinner it would be given in the dining room, in front
of
the entire family, along with any guests who happened to be present. While hardly a pleasing prospect, it was something she had already accepted as inevitable; her unfortunate bottom might once more be a casualty, but there was also the prospect of having Vera apply a little Sootho afterwards.

Other difficulties remained, such as her engagement to Claude Attwater, but none of them insurmountable, and as she crossed the rise of Black Down she began to whistle one of the less respectable marching tunes she had picked up from her father, about a woman from somewhere called Armentières who had four chins and drank wine by the barrel. She was still whistling an hour later, and had managed to add another two verses, both ruder than the original, but when she reached the rocky outcrops of Sourton Tors she stopped in consternation.