A Day Off

It was Sunday and a day free from work. J stretched, yawned, got out of bed, wrapped a fluffy dressing gown over her babydoll nightie and went down for breakfast. It was latish, but a few of her co-workers were still there, including her new assistant F. They chatted over croissants and coffee.

'What do people do on a Sunday?' J asked.

'Oh, there's lots of stuff. The movie theatre shows old black and white films all day. If the weather's nice we take our bikes down to the beach. When it's spring or autumn there are some lovely walks to take in the woods. Then there's the pool, of course. Oh, do you play tennis? The courts here are very good and there's a tennis ladder if you want to take it seriously. In the end it's up to you. You could read a book.'

'Perhaps I'll do that. Or maybe pick up a newspaper?'

'Why not bring one down to the pool? There are plenty of loungers. You don't have to swim if you don't want to. See you there in twenty?'

'Okay.'

J went back upstairs and attended to her toilette. As usual, her clothes for the day were laid out ready for her on the bed when she came out of the bathroom. She saw them and burst out laughing. So -- Sunday was dressing-up day. Was it? Right. Well, she'd go along with that.

J met F by the pool. They had both been given the same kind of clothes to wear.

'Anime girls!' F giggled. J had to admit that the outfit looked good on her, even though she was slightly shocked by it. Tiny white cotton panties peeping from under a ludicrously short green plaid skirt, a sailor-style crop top which exposed the underside of her breasts, a red scarf, and white socks ending just above the knee. F looked good enough to eat. So did J if the truth be told. Her outfit was identical to F's except that her skirt was red and the bow around her neck was pink, to F's pale blue. They both wore five-inch heels, and that was something new to J. She felt most unstable on them and clutched at F for fear of falling.

'Hello girls,' called out T as he passed by. 'You going to lie down by the pool? Come and lie down under me!' He was dressed as a Japanese schoolboy; black shoes, grey trousers, white shirt, loose tie. 'Go away, boring man,' replied F. T laughed.

'You won't get it,' said F to J, 'but we're dressed like characters from Japanese cartoon films. You've seen them?'

'Only once, and never a Japanese one. They all came from America in my time.'

J had had never seen, let alone worn, a costume like this, except on music-hall posters. It seemed to her like the kind of thing a harlot would wear. Someone who wanted to tease and attract males. There was still so much for her to learn about the Company and the milieux in which it operated.

'They're called Anime. Most of the girls in those films wear clothes like this, except for the frumpy ones. Come on, I can see a couple of spare sun-beds!'

J and F took adjacent loungers. J wondered if she was allowed to cross her legs when she sat, as it was a day off, but a glance at F, who was lying back with her knees well spread, soon disabused her of that idea. She lay on her side instead with one leg crooked. That should be okay, she thought. Although her crotch was private her scantily clad bottom was on view to anybody who cared to look at it. Couldn't be helped. She opened her copy of the Sunday Times, read an article, and dozed off.

She was roused by F shaking her shoulder. 'Wake up, wake up. We've got to go the courtyard.'

'Where's that?'

'Follow me. Come on!'

The courtyard was packed, but F shoved forward, pulling J behind her. Everybody there was in some form of costume, from bathing belles to acrobats, superheroes, African warriors, Amazons, three French maids (one male), a Roman gladiator (female), a pair of pony girls, five painted Jezebels and, oddly enough, a reporter, with a press card pushed into the band of his homburg. A holiday atmosphere animated the space. F looked over to J and grinned.

A young man and woman stood apart from the others, in the centre of the courtyard. Both were naked except for black leather G-strings, both were extremely good-looking. Next to them was a seven-foot-high pole, standing on a low circular platform. Several pairs of rubber loops were fixed to the pole at various heights. At its top was a dial, similar to a clock face except that it only had a single hand and the numbers counted from one to twenty-four.

A tall woman entered the courtyard and clapped her hands. The hubbub quietened down. 'Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!'

'Good morning, ma'am!'

'Are we enjoying the sunshine?'

'Yes, ma'am!'

'Super. Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves, because we have two miscreants here who may very soon not be enjoying themselves very much at all. Mrs W and Mister H, make yourselves known!'

The man and woman by the pole raised their arms.

'You have both been rather naughty, haven't you?'

'Yes,' they said.

'Louder!'

'Yes, ma'am!'

'What have you been doing? Tell these good people.'

The young man spoke up. 'We have been fucking, ma'am!'

The crowd cheered at this news. 'Hooray!'

'Is that true, W?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Fucking where?'

'In the stillroom, ma'am. On the floor.'

'Fucking hard?'

'Very hard, ma'am.'

'And deep?'

'Extremely deep, ma'am.'

'How were you positioned, W? Were you lying on your back with your legs opened wide and your hands clutching the cheeks of H's arse, pulling him ever deeper into you? Or were you on all fours, presenting your arse and cunt to him? Were your tits hanging down and did H grasp your nipples as he fucked you? Was he fucking you in your cunt or your arse? Or, wait... Perhaps you were sucking him off?'

'He was fucking me in my cunt, doggy-style, ma'am.'

'And was he fucking you well?'

'Very well, ma'am. His cock is great both in length and girth. He plunged into and withdrew from my cunt with considerable elan. I could feel his balls slapping against me. I arched my back and lifted my arse so he could penetrate my cunt as deeply as possible.'

'Were you about to come when you were discovered in flagrante?'

'Yes, ma'am.' W paused. 'I had already come twice, ma'am.'

'So you were enjoying it? This fucking?'

The young man spoke up. 'Tremendously, ma'am. W's cunt-muscles are strong and very skilful. She knows how to prolong the act of lovemaking and maximise its pleasure.'

'And when were you performing this carnal act?'

'This morning, ma'am.'

'At eight o'clock?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'When you were both supposed to be on duty. Your shift ended at nine o'clock, I believe. You were screwing in company time?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

The tall woman addressed the crowd. 'What shall we do with this pair? They have admitted their guilt. Shall we send them to the pole?'

'Yes! Yes! Pole them! Pole them!'

'H and W. Do you consent to being put to the pole? Do you assent to the physical sanction?'

H and W nodded slowly.

J nudged F. 'Does this kind of thing happen very often?'

'Now and then. Now, shush.'

First the young man and then the young woman stepped up onto the platform. They held their hands up and passed them through the loops. Each moved forward until their bodies were separated only by the pole. W's large and beautiful breasts pressed either side of the pole and pushed against the man's broad chest, nipples erect. Her posterior was superbly rounded and deeply cleft. Her ebony skin shone in the late morning sunlight. His paler skin contrasted strikingly with hers. He also pressed himself as close as he could to his lover. His back was well muscled and his buttocks firm and taut. His considerable erection stretched the pouch of his G-string.

They stood, ready. The woman beckoned and two officers pushed to the front. 'Strap them,' she said. J recognised the female officer who had caned her a week before. She did not know the other.

The two officers removed their belts. The male then took off his trousers, shirt, and jacket. The female slipped out of her skirt, jacket, and blouse. Both wore nothing but their navy-blue Company regulation underwear.

They took up their belts by the buckle end and approached the platform, one behind each offender. They held the belts up, ready. The two lovers pressed closer together.

'Tits out!' came a voice from the crowd. 'Get your tits out!'

'And drop 'em,' said another.

'Tits out, knickers off, tits out, knickers off!' chanted the crowd, stamping their feet in unison. The officers glanced towards their superior. She shrugged. It's up to you. The female officer smiled ruefully, laid her belt on the ground, and unhooked her bra. Her breasts were full and swayed as she moved. The crowd cheered.

'Let us see your arse! We want to see your arse!' She shook her head. A few in the crowd booed. She raised the belt again. The senior woman nodded.

Two belts flew through the air and landed with a simultaneous crack on two bare backs. Both pole-standers grunted slightly.

'That's not fair,' said J. 'The man's punishing the woman and the woman's punishing the man. W's going to have a much harder time of it than H.'

'Wait,' F said.

There was a low electric hum and a whir of gears, and the platform rotated 180 degrees. At the same time the hand on the dial clicked forward one step.

'One!' cried the throng.

'Ah,' said J. 'I see now.' The belts lashed out again. Again, the lovers gave a low grunt. W rubbed her groin against the pole. The platform turned once more.

Lash. And lash. Marks were beginning to show -- dark on the ebony woman, red on her paler amour.

Next time, the officers swiped their belts across the couple's backsides. The crowd sighed. Five! How many of them had fondled H's and W's behinds? How many of them had welcomed H's penis inside them? How many had delighted in penetrating one or the other of them? How many had used their tongues and lips to bring them to a climax? And how many wished they had asked, and how many had been declined? How many desired to press themselves next to H or W at the pole and share the whipping with them? And how many wished they were standing by the pole, wielding a leather belt or a bloodied cat o'nine tails?

'Flog 'em senseless!' called out one disappointed suitor. 'Make the bitch suffer!' shouted another. 'Cream his bollocks!' screamed a third. The floggers paid them no attention.

As the strapping continued and the spectators called out the number of blows -- six, seven, eight -- J realised that her reaction to this public humiliation was not the horror that she had expected to feel on witnessing such cruelty but something rather different. Meanwhile, both lovers writhed against the pole, but their lascivious movements suggested the ravishments of sexual congress rather than the desperate contortions of flogged and mortified offenders. With every crack of belt against back, shoulders, bottom or legs the recipients moaned or cried out. But those moans and cries sounded like the approach of a sexual climax and their postures looked more like illustrations from the Kamasutra than Hieronymus Bosch's depictions of tortured souls in hell.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. The hand advanced around the clock face. The platform rotated, clickety-clack. The bodies of H and W, and of the officers, glistened with sweat. The audience cheered every lash and shouted out its number. J joined in.

And finally, as the last stroke fell and the platform turned for the last time, the hand pointed straight up to the top of the dial and a bell sounded. The flogging was done.

'Three cheers for H and W! Hip, Hip, Hooray! Hip, Hip, Hooray! Hip, Hip, Hooray!' The crowd was generous in its applause.

The pair each removed their wrists from the rings, reminding J that neither had been forcibly bound to the pole. H took W by the hand and they bowed deeply to the spectators.

'Encore!' some wag shouted out. H shook his head. Not today, he mouthed. Doubtless speech did not come easily at that moment. He helped his partner down from the platform and they left the scene arm in arm, seeking Matron and her emollient ointments, and a place where they could resume the lovemaking that had been so rudely interrupted.

'Fun's over,' said F. 'Let's get our loungers back before someone nicks them!'

They returned to the poolside and were about to lie back on their sunbeds when F pointed at J and burst out laughing. 'J!' she said. 'Who knew? You dirty mare!'

'What!'

'Look!'

'Where?'

'Look at your knickers!'

J looked down and gasped. Her tiny white cotton girlie-panties were clearly visible under the hem of her plaid skirt and they had turned completely transparent. She put her hand down to check. Oh gosh, she was wet. Sopping wet. She had soaked her knickers in her excitement at witnessing the strapping of H and W.

J crossed her legs and covered herself in embarrassment. She hadn't wet herself since she'd been a little girl.

'Tut-tut, J,' said F, 'that won't do. You know the rules. Better lie back and spread 'em.' J had little choice but to recline on the sun-lounger and open her legs wide. Perhaps that was for the best. She might dry more quickly that way.

F had other ideas. 'Hey gang! Look at J! She's wet herself, the naughty thing. She's come in her knickers!'

General laughter around the pool. J thought of going back to her room and changing, but that was impossible. She had no more clothes to wear that day, not even a nightdress or robe. Perhaps she could jump in the pool and soak herself all over. Or she could simply remove the panties, but that would mean walking around all day with her bottom and pudenda exposed to general view. Oh well. She stretched out and the lower edge of the skirt rose above the top of her knickers. Might as well give everyone a bit of entertainment.

After lunch, J visited the ladies' toilet. She took off her knickers and held them to her nose. Hmm. They did smell rather rank. So, standing bare-bottomed by the basin, she washed them with soap and water and wrung them out as dry as she could. She put the damp panties back on and rejoined F at the poolside.

They both felt a little dozy and ready for a nap, but F rolled over and said to J, 'Have you ever played "If I were"?'

'No, I've never heard of it. '

'It's a game we played at school, in the dorm. I was a convent girl, you know.'

'I didn't know.'

'Never mind. You do now. What you do is this. You say, "If I were" and then you think of an action and the name of a person. Then you say how or where you would do it to or with that person.

'Look, here's an example: "If I were in a maths class with Sister Clare, I would flip her the bird when her back was turned".'

'Hmm. If I were lying next to F on a Sunday afternoon, I would tell her to shut up and let me have a snooze.'

'Meanie! If I were being insulted by J, I would ask my friends to help out. Hey! You lot!' Heads turned. 'J's being a spoilsport. She trying to get out of playing "If I were".'

'Is she? Let's see.' T, U and G got up and strolled over to F's and J's sun-loungers.

T said, 'If I were standing this close to F, I would kneel down beside her and lift up her top so I could admire her boobs.'

U added, 'If I were looking at F's titties I would reach out and caress them.'

G said, 'If I were this close to F's boobies, I would lick and suckle them.'

'All right, all right!' said F. 'My breasts thank you for those kind words. But what about J?'

'She smells of dirty girl who's come in her panties!'

'I washed them!'

U leaned over J and took a sniff.

'You didn't wash yourself properly, did you? Your pussy stinks of sex.'

'She needs a damn good thrashing, that's what she needs. Teach her to keep herself clean and pure.'

'Whip her!'

F smiled. She opened her handbag and took out a lipstick. She held it up. 'Who's going first?'

T took the lipstick. 'Roll onto your front, J.'

J complied.

T drew a red line across J's bare back. 'If I were whipping J, I would whip her here.'

'And here.' Another red line. 'And here. Whuup, whuup, whuup.'

T handed the lipstick to G. 'Your turn. On your back, J.'

J turned over.

'Open your legs,' said G.

J parted her legs.

'Wider.'

J spread herself. Her knickers clung tightly to her. She looked like a woman who was ready to have the crotch of her panties pulled to one side so that she could be entered.

'Wider, like a shameless strumpet. Like a brazen tart who is gagging for it,' said U, petite and pretty with close-cropped blonde hair, wearing a floral summer frock.

J raised her knees and made herself as open and exposed as she could. She felt a deep surge of excitement at exposing herself so. This was the position she took when she pleasured herself.

'Better.'

G drew a line across J's stomach. 'If I were whipping J, I would whip her here.'

Another line and another and another. 'Whuup, whuup, whuup. Whuup, whuup, whuup. I would whip her very many times.'

J squirmed.

U took the lipstick. 'Uncover your breasts, J.'

'Must I?'

'You must.'

J reached up and lifted the tiny sailor-top up to her chin. Her breasts were naked and exposed and exceptionally beautiful.

U drew three lines of scarlet across J's bosom. 'If I were whipping J, I would whip her here. And here. And here.'

The third line crossed J's nipples. She gasped.

'Can you feel it, J? Can you feel my whip on your breasts?' J closed her eyes.

U returned the lipstick to F, who leaned over J and pulled up the little plaid skirt as far as it would go.

'If I were whipping J,' she said, 'I would whip her here, and here, and here, and here, and here.' And she drew five crimson lines on J's panties, from back to front, pressing down hard. J shuddered. F grinned and drew five more lines, until the front of J's knickers was completely red. 'I would whip her until she bled. Until she screamed. Until she came. Came hard.'

'You fucking disgusting cow!' J reached up and slapped F hard on the face. 'How fucking dare you!' J had never used that word before. How far she come from 1926, when the use of such language would have been severely punished.

But F noticed, as did the others, that J's knickers were soaking again.

'I'd fucking cane your fucking arse as well,' said F. J gasped. She knew what a caning felt like.

'Take your knickers off, J,' said T.

J did as she was told. She couldn't help it. T held the garment up. Once more its crotch was dripping with J's body fluids. 'Smelling of strumpet,' he said. 'Smelling of a woman who needs a jolly good seeing to.'

T removed his trousers and underwear. His organ stood rigid and upright. 'You,' he said to J. 'You know what to do. Kneel down before me.'

J knelt.

'Take it in your mouth.'

J obeyed.

'Suck me.'

J took the head of T's penis into her mouth. She had done this for men in the past, when they had tried to take her in the pussy. It was a good way to avoid getting pregnant. She had learnt how best to please a man with her tongue. The tiny anime-girl skirt that J wore rode up as she knelt, revealing her bare bottom.

F said, 'J has the prettiest bum I have seen for ages.'

U agreed. 'Watch as she sucks on T!'

J's bottom moved up and down as she continued to caress T's organ with her mouth, running her tongue up and down it with her lips. It presented a most enticing sight, and the watchers could not help but be stimulated by it. The men wished to penetrate her and come deep inside her. The women had ideas of their own.

'I should like to stroke J's arse,' said U. 'I would like to rub my cunny up against it.'

'Don't let me stop you,' said F. 'But strip yourself completely bare-arse naked first.'

'Why?' said U.

'Because I would like to see you undressed?'

'Oh, all right then.' U took off her dress and bra, revealing pink erect nipples. Then her panties. Her pubic hair was neatly shaved into the form of a heart. F looked her up and down. 'You have a pretty face and a lovely figure', she said. 'Short hair suits you.'