Bad Brat Girl

Last chapter of this story. Duncan gives his bad brat girl good, sexy, aftercare.

_____

"Morning, lovey."

I blink. Duncan's next to me, tick. We're warm and comfy. Strange bed. Ah, hotel room! We'll need to get up, and, later, head to our friends' wedding down the road.

He turns off his irritating phone alarm. "Don't make me get up yet," I plead.

"Tired? I suppose it was a tough night for you." He's sounding extra gentle and caring.

I'm sleepily confused, until I roll over to face him. My breasts are heavy and aching, and brushing my nipples over the crisp cotton bedsheet is sore as anything. My bum is warm and happy, so the duvet across my buttocks is lovely. I squirm a bit, to enjoy it more.

"Mm. I'm fine."

"Yeah? Good girl. God, you were so good..."

I squeeze my vaginal walls, and my arse, testing. Yes, I got well fucked last night. By him and our two friends, Cat and Jake. They may have used toys and hands, not cock, but it's the same effect. They forced me to have more orgasms than I'd had in a month...

I smile, and kiss my beautiful big man. He's cautious, but lets me sit upon him to deal with his morning wood.

I may be battered inside and out, sore and swollen, but that just makes it more intimate when his great cock presses me wide open. It's great, especially with me controlling the pace, making sure it's not too much - except possibly that one final thrust as he comes inside me, all hot and panting.

After that, he showers. Then he watches me shower, in case I'm still light-headed. I'm not, but I appreciate the care. Him caring for me - it's part of our kink.

We go down for breakfast, and help ourselves from all the different counters. He smiles at me and raises his coffee mug. "To us, and to good friends!"

"Do you mean Ken and Ola?" They're the happy couple, at the wedding we'll be attending later toay.

"Let's rephrase. To us and a couple of very special, close friends." That's definitely Cat and Jake.

"Yeah." I give him a weak smile. "Missing them already."

Duncan stares at me. "Still coming down from last night?"

I don't answer.

He pokes me with his fork. "My girl?" He checks no-one can overhear. "My good girl? Still in that headspace?"

I nod, reluctantly.

"My good, submissive girl? Hm..." He's thoughtful for a minute, then smirks. He knocks back the rest of his coffee, gets up and bends over me. He speaks four clear words into my ear. Then he beams at me, before going to restock his plate with eggs and bacon and black pudding. His big muscular body needs fuel.

I contemplate the words. I know very well what he means by them.

He's back. "Well? Would that help? Keep you just enough in the right mindset?"

"Yeah. Yes, it would. Oh,

fuck.

"

He laughs. "I'll be lenient and let you have that one free. Oh, here they are. I think they need to know, too."

I nod. But, embarrassed, I go fetch more coffee while he explains his game to Cat and Jake. They're both in casual outfits, clearly planning to return to their room and have a relaxed morning before dressing for the wedding.

I return to see they've understood.

"So," Jake says gleefully, "she's not allowed to say any of those four words, all day?"

"Correct," I tell him, starting as I mean to go on.

Cat's not encountered the game before. "You can't say 'yes', 'no', 'black' or 'white'? All day?"

"Not until we've left the wedding for good," Dunc confirms.

Cat grins. "That is genius!" Trying to sound innocent, she asks, "What happens if she does?"

"We keep track. For every fail, there will be repercussions..."

"He doesn't know," I retort, cheekily.

"Oh, I've got ideas, sweetheart. Just some, you might need to wait for..." He looks across the table to Cat, next to me. "Grope her arse, would you?"

Cat sneaks a hand along the banquette seat and pinches my bum. My little bum which she ensured was very effectively whipped last night. "Ow!"

"Or maybe we wouldn't need to wait!" He gives his fiendish smile. "I don't know how many quiet corners there'll be in that hotel, but we might be able to find somewhere..."

"Perhaps she and I could go find the Ladies'?" Cat offers.

"Perhaps. Though I'd rather be there myself."

"Borrow a veil..." Jake laughs.

"I'm sure you can all improvise," I say haughtily. I'm trying to keep my dignity, but I can't deny that some subtle submission is going to ease my come-down from last night no end. Even more than my pleasingly-sore arse.

I clutch Dunc's hand as we return to our room. He rubs his thumb reassuringly over the back of my hand.

Time to groom and get dressed. The total opposite of last night; instead of looking like a young schoolgirl or naive student, today I'm going for pure adult sophistication. Sleek bra, silky knickers, and my one designer dress, cut just above the knee and with a stylish sweetheart neckline. The only similarity is stockings and suspenders!

I braid my hair into a French plait, then twist it into a bun. Make-up, then jewellery. My vital clutch bag, and possibly even more vital high heels, so I only look eight inches shorter than Duncan rather than a foot. Seriously, they make so much difference to how people treat me, and therefore us. With a clearly-expensive gold necklace and earrings, I'm looking my real age, too. Unlike most of my old classmates, fretting about turning thirty, I have to try hard, to be perceived as anywhere near!

He approves. Just one amendment - he slips my key, lipstick, tissues, comb, etc into his jacket pockets, making me be the kept woman for the duration. I don't mind - it's not like the purse matches my dress, and it's just one more annoying thing to lose. It also delays me coming totally out of my submissive mindset, making it an easier journey. Smiling at my impeccably-groomed fiancé, I take his hand, and we stroll down the road to the wedding hotel.

It's a beautiful ceremony, and really nice to catch up with other college friends.

"Champagne?" someone offers.

"That would be lovely," I reply, mindful of Duncan next to me and our game. He squeezes my hand. "Thank you," I add. I'm not taking any risk of him - or Cat - accusing me of bad manners today!

The day proceeds as wedding meals and receptions do.

"How was your journey?"

"It was fine, thanks. We came up yesterday and stayed in the hotel down the road. Jake and his wife were there too."

"Oh, nice."

*

"More wine?"

"Please."

*

"Are you two married?"

"No...t yet," I save myself. "Next year."

*

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Just milk, thank you." The waitress goes to add a spoonful of sugar. "No, no sugar, thanks!"

Duncan, next to me, keeps his face straight. Just a glint in his eyes as he gropes me on the thigh. I give a rueful smile; he blows me a tiny kiss. The whole game is setting me up to fail; we both know it. But he's always impressed when my quick wits come up with natural phrases to avoid those common words.

Getting decent coffee was even more important, though. Priorities!

*

I enjoy catching up with old friends, as does Jake. Cat's a gregarious type, merrily chatting away to anyone. Dunc's perfectly polite and friendly, but he's only here to be my plus-one. If Jake and Cat hadn't been coming, I might have just come alone. He hauls me onto the dance floor to pass the time after the speeches, though after twenty minutes of boogieing, my feet insist on a rest.

Jake's happy to chat and try to get me to fail my instructions. Duncan watches, amused.

"You're getting quite poddled, aren't you, Sarah?" he goads. "Tipsy as anything!"

"I am not!"

"You're not sober in the slightest," he goes on, trying to provoke an answer of 'Oh yes, I am!' Just like a panto. We both love British pantomimes each Christmas, with their innuendo and crude jokes that allegedly the kids won't understand, drag, singing along, and the audience participation, shouting at the fairy-tale characters.

"I'm sober as a lord," I tell him, mixing my similes but refusing to answer the question. And evading any forbidden word. "If anyone's getting tipsy, it's you, mate!"

Duncan nods in approval. I can give as good as I get. The game's just a little reassurance that I still belong to him, but otherwise I'm back to being a competent adult, in control.

Jake tries an obvious one. "Cat wanted to play chess the other day. Which player is it who goes first in chess?"

I'm not going to say White. "Whichever player has the lighter coloured pieces." I smile sweetly. "Come on, you've seen chess sets with pieces in all colours. Red and yellow. Gold and silver, my dad has. Tacky as hell. The Empire versus the Jedis, if you get a Star Wars themed set..."

"Ooh! That sounds cool." Jake perks up at the idea of a geeky lineup of pieces.

"Nah," Cat interrupts. "Trying to remember which piece is what is too bloody complicated in novelty sets! Classic clean lines, that's what I want to play with."

She strokes Jake's crotch, where Dunc and I know he's got a smooth metal cock cage being a tidy line. I smirk, choking back my laugh. Jake shrugs, resigned, content with his life. He's naturally submissive to Cat, trusting her to look after his genitals and his private life. He smiles at her, but suggests with his eyebrows that she stop groping him in public. It's really not that kind of event.

"Thanks," he says when she does promptly remove her hand. Given the long tablecloth, probably no-one else noticed. And anyway, they're married. They're supposed to think about sex. "Sorry Sarah, you don't get to cop a feel either," he adds, in his usual flirtatious manner.

"Huh?"

"I know you want to..." Jake's good at the seductive voice, but I'm not tempted. Not today.

"No!" I object, indignant at the accusation.

"Hah! Got you to say it!" He points and laughs. "Played for and got!"

"Nice one." Duncan approves of his mendacity. All's fair in love and war and games...

I roll my eyes. It's been nice, the background reminder that Dunc can set me rules, but I've had enough now. "Enough. End of game."

Dunc looks questioningly at me; I nod to confirm. I'm fine, just it's time to drop that mental load. "Yeah. Time to relax. Wouldn't mind another drink."

Jake does the honours in sourcing more wine for all of us. But Dunc's starting to get bored among all the strangers. I knock back the rest of my glass. "Come on, poppet. Let's strut our funky stuff!"

Dunc's a decent dancer, not that there's a required standard here. On the dance floor, the four of us merge into a larger circle of enthusiastic limbs. The song changes, to something more rock-'n'-roll. Cat grabs Duncan to twirl under his arm. Which leaves Jake free to put his arms round me, for a flirtatious move that's still appropriate for a wedding disco.

He pinches my arse, right where it's all sore. I manage not to react. It's sore, yes, but it feels intense. Like my whole bum is as sensitive as my suddenly-tingling pussy.

"Do we share her again tonight?" Jake asks hopefully, as Dunc and Cat come close again.

"No, you certainly do not!" Dunc's as firm as he ever is. "Not just you not getting her, cos you don't, ner-ner na ner-ner, but I'm keeping her all to myself tonight. She's mine, all mine. Aincha, lovey?"

"Yeah," I agree happily, holding his hand. I'm his, whether I'm his little girl or my appropriately-behaved adult self. Or, of course, my slutty adult self, as soon as we're back in our hotel...

As if reading my mind, Dunc speaks in my ear. "Go take your knickers off, pet. Let's see if we can make this do less boring!" It's not a command, just a very sensible idea...

I head to the Ladies, chat to a couple people, but really, Jake and I don't have much in common with this crowd any more. Not just us being into BDSM. They're just so... conventional in general. Maybe it's because they've got families close by? Never really separated from them? Jake's English, but his family live in rural Norfolk. It's so hard to get to that he rarely sees them. That's his story, anyway.

Given my lack of handbag, I have to put the undies in my bra. They don't show. Hooray for oversized tits! Returning to Dunc, I give him a big kiss and rub my crotch over his thigh a bit. It's a wedding; I'm allowed to be romantic!

He tells me, "Cat's found a store cupboard round the corner. I think we need to go have an important conversation about paperwork, don't you?"

'Paperwork' is the euphemism some friends use when wanting to lock their kids out of the bedroom so they can grab some undisturbed sex...

Jake flicks his eyes between us. He's cottoned on. "Can I come?"

"Not me you should be asking, is it?" I indicate Cat, his Mistress.

Dunc shrugs. "I was just going to feel her up, not getting my cock out."

"I'll cope with the disappointment," Jake assures him. He gets Cat's attention. "May I?"

She considers, then agrees. She's not bothered about my bottom, and is having a good time strutting her funky stuff on the dance floor and being her enthusiastic extrovert self, making friends.

I head out the door, the lads following a moment later. No-one we know is in the corridor. So they don't bat an eye when I open the door Cat mentioned, which is indeed a supply closet. No booze, sadly, just cleaning products and spare uniforms. And a chair with a ripped seat, which is handy. I sit on it while waiting for Duncan and Jake - presumably Jake's ensuring no-one he knows is about, because seeing him sneaking off with a guy would be excellent gossip, even if the gossip-monger didn't recognise Dunc as my fiancé.

I'm about to text them, when Jake is shoved in, almost falling on my face, and Dunc squeezes in after him, closing the door. There's just about enough room for both of them to stand.

"Jake? Move that chair in front of the door so no-one can shove it open. And take your tie off and tie the door-handle to stop it rattling, would you?"

Jake raises an eyebrow at Duncan. "I don't submit to you, mate."

"Not asking you to. But if you don't want us to be interrupted, and let's face it, I'm very generously letting you admire my wife-to-be's very decorative bare behind, it would be an idea, yeah? Seeing as I left my tie on the table, earlier."

Jake nods, and obliges. Someone applying enough force could still break in, but most people would assume the door was locked. As long as we're not too noisy. We? Me.

Dunc continues, in his slightly-gangster snarky tone, "Right, love. Stand up and pull up yer dress, so we can see what a mess they've made of your pretty wee bum."

I'm very happy to show him. I know my bottom is one huge purpling bruise, with darkened red welts across it. Not to mention the red lines across my thighs, and the fading pink pin-pricks. It's damn impressive.

"Woah!" Jake exclaims.

"Isn't she beautiful," Duncan agrees, proud of what I did for him yesterday. "So gorgeous, so strong, taking all that, just because I wanted her to." Dunc puts his hand on my arse and strokes a couple of the raised welts carefully. A noise suggests he may have slapped Jake aside. "

My

girl. Jake, you sit down there. Sarah, pet, you straddle his legs. Facing him! Lean on him."

I nestle my face in Jake's shoulder. If I were tall enough, I'd kiss his cheek, but it's not an option. My legs are spread wide over Jake's, just above his knees, so I have to bend forward for my head to rest on his chest. My tender inner thighs feel sore scraping against the fine quality wool of Jake's suit trousers; my shoes barely touch the floor.

And, of course, leaning forward to face Jake means my bum is raised and on perfect display for Duncan, with my pussy on show and accessible. I can feel myself getting wet, even before Jake parts his legs further. It makes my thighs even more horizontal, so only my toes now reach the ground, so Jake's strong arms round me are what's holding me in place.

"Ah, beautiful!" Duncan sounds incredibly pleased. There's some huffing as he shoves a bucket and mop aside, enabling him to kneel down behind me, where my arse is sticking out beyond Jake's knees. I picture Dunc carefully hoiking up his trouser legs to avoid making the knees baggy, consciously deciding to risk the grubby floor versus his best suit. My arse: it's worth it.

He gropes my bum with both his big hands. It's so good. What people don't understand about beating and bruising, is how gloriously sensitive the area is after. Imagine a woman with a big booty. Only that butt responds like a clitoris, every stroke from your finger making her quiver, every squeeze triggering groans of pleasure.

That's me, right now. I love Duncan so much.

I'm damn fond of Jake, too. He's holding me tight in his arms, a wonderful cosy seat for me, even if my legs straddling his are forced wider apart than is truly comfortable. It's safe and reassuring in his embrace, while Dunc pushes me to new heights of pleasure. I press my face into Jake's crisp shirt, hoping I don't get lipstick on it, but not really caring if I do.

Those fingers Dunc just shoved in my cunt are way more important. One hand rubbing my buttock, the other firm and thrusting his thick fingers into me. It really reminds me how big the guy is, how small I am in comparison. But not fragile. No.

"Yes, yes," I pant into the fabric pressed against my mouth. Jake's so warm round me. Dunc feels so good behind me. How do people cope with only one lover? I mean, not that one guy can't be incredibly good, but why miss out on experiences like this?

I know, getting off from kinky stuff is weird. But having a mate just helping you have great sex? What have you got to lose?

Just any dignity I might have regained since last night, I suppose. But hey, weddings are meant for illicit shagging, aren't they? I know the best man is single. Any film or soap opera would ensure he ends up with one of the bridesmaids. I think I saw one flirting with him earlier. Maybe he'll play for all three?

Not my problem, not my monkey. Though the idea of a trio of women in their matching slinky dresses, squeezing in this closet with the fit guy in morning dress... It triggers my orgasm. Jake holds me even tighter as I sob over his chest, then grips my face and makes me look into his eyes, while I'm still helplessly squirming round Dunc's powerful hand that's fucking me senseless. Jake knows I'm a right slut, and loves it, just like Dunc does.

Dunc knocks the mop over as he squeezes round my arse and back up to standing. It whacks Jake on the head. We need a few minutes until we finally manage to stop giggling. Getting me off Jake's spread lap is tricky in the confined space, too, not to mention the inelegant process of returning me to standing and my dress back to a civilised length. Most undignified, but the guys manage it to my satisfaction, eventually.

Dunc looks out first. No-one will recognise him, so won't care if he's been up to naughtiness. He loiters outside the door for a minute, adjusting his cuffs, then opens the door behind him. "Come on," he urges us.

Jake and I bound into the corridor. Jake immediately turns so it doesn't look like he's with us, and returns to the ballroom. I head to the Ladies with Dunc my human handbag in tow, so I can comb my hair and refresh my makeup and generally not look like I've just been fucked five ways to Christmas.

Passing my lipstick and all back to him to look after, I grin at him. He bends down, picks me up, and gives me a passionate snog, holding me up to his mouth with his hands under my tender arse. It feels even more filthy in some ways, because people are walking past, and a couple lads from my course give a wolf-whistle. If only they knew!

It's ten-thirty. Time for the happy couple to head off, and they do, in the hired white Rolls-Royce with streamers across it, plus the obligatory shoes and tin cans dangling from the rear bumper. A bizarre English tradition. Once they're gone, the older generation mostly embark on their rounds of goodbyes, and Dunc and I make a French exit, slipping out the side door.