Spring has sprung; daffodils bloom in the churchyard, ducks nest on the village pond. Oh, to be in England. A message pings onto my phone:
Good morning, Vicar,
We two have been rather naughty of late and require a firm hand. Who better than Mr Sims in his lovely old house by the church?
Love
Lily and Olivia
Intrigued, I respond by return:
Good morning, Ladies,
How wonderful to hear from you, I can most certainly accommodate your needs. Please be here at 4pm today.
Regards
Mr Sims
At the appointed hour the doorbell rings, I open it and find two visions of loveliness standing brightly on the doorstep.
"Hello, Mr Sims, we've been bad, sinful, in fact," announces twenty-something Lily, slender, wearing a provocatively short skirt and not at all contrite. In contrast, her lovely companion, Olivia's femme fatale curves are concealed by a modest summer dress.
"Some 'accessories' to assist your endeavours," she says, proffering a carpetbag.
"Please, come in ladies," I beckon them across the threshold, keen to avoid neighbourhood gossip. "You look extremely enticing today," I tell Lily, who beams happily.
"I was hoping you might think so," she answers archly.
I turn to Olivia. "Very demure, are you attempting a Sunday School teacher look?"
"Don't be fooled," says Lily, lifting her friend's hem to reveal stocking tops, "saucy underwear as usual." The air is heavy with unspoken expectations. This scheming pair will require all my considerable authority to keep in check and bend to my will. Inseparable since Lily took up employment here a few months ago, that they've plotted this encounter for some time is entirely in character. A suitable penance for dissolute conduct is clearly required, smacked bottoms at the very least, a thrilling prospect for all concerned. Ushered to the lounge the two sit adjacently on the sofa, knees demurely together, hands in laps.
"We shall have afternoon tea presently," I announce, "meanwhile I gather there is delinquent behaviour requiring admonition. Who's going first?"
"Her," says Olivia immediately.
"Not fair," Lily protests this disloyalty.
"Quite enough of that," I observe sternly. "Right, Olivia, let Lily lean back on to you. Lily, swing your feet onto the settee." She sulkily complies. "Now lift them high."
Correctly guessing my intention, Olivia grasps her friend's ankles with alacrity. Legs hoisted aloft, Lily's minuscule skirt falls back to reveal she's foresworn knickers, pussy peeking provocatively.
"Just as I suspected, you do invite chastisement Lily," I sigh with mock disapproval.
"I do," she agrees unblushingly. I select a small paddle, from the carpetbag's selection of implements.
"We'll begin with this," I say ominously and without further ado apply it to Lily's perfect peach of a bottom. Her silky skin rapidly turns from pink to red, accompanied by a series of squeals.
"Shh," reproves Olivia sharply, struggling to hold her troublesome companion in position, "it's very bad mannered of you to make such a noise when Mr Sims is going to so much trouble."
I continue until every visible inch of the imp's toothsome tushy positively glows with heat, and Lily makes obvious her discomfort.
"Lower her legs," I instruct Olivia. "Lily, keep those knees apart, I'm far from through with you." Holding her friend firmly from behind Olivia grasps Lily's bosom, squeezing her pert breasts.
Slap! The unfortunate younger woman gasps in shock as my palm makes sharp contact with her sensitive inner thighs, leaving livid handprints all the way from knees to heaven.
"Hmmm, coming along nicely," I observe my handiwork. A further rummage in the bag reveals a butt plug; the dishy duo arrived well-prepared. Their tongues intertwine in a lingering kiss and Olivia cruelly twists her lover's protuberant nipples. I lube Lily's rear entrance - the expression on her face is a picture - and carefully insert the plug.
"This will help later," I explain enigmatically, "after I've dealt with this pretty pussy." Lily does not attempt to resist when I lightly hand spank her denuded vulva and it's soon wet and gaping, labia rendered puffy and red. The timbre of her plaintive cries alters to indicate an approaching orgasm. Hips jerking in wild abandon; lewdly thrusting towards my punishing palm, Lily comes, squirting copiously across the parquet.
"Well really," I declare, "do please have some self-control, it's a good job this is polished wood and not carpet, that lapse will earn you further discipline later."
"Now, let's get your wicked accomplice over the back of my favourite armchair." I swiftly manoeuvre Olivia across the padded upholstery; buttocks raised into prominence. Lily grabs her co-conspirator's wrists and holds them firmly while I raise the chaste frock to reveal a wondrously firm and full posterior, perfectly framed by sheer nylons and taut suspenders.
