Portrait of a Disciplinarian (28 page)

The hills and fields she knew so well were spread out beneath her, as verdant and as beautiful as ever, with each familiar landmark as she could always picture it simply by closing her eyes – but with one irksome detail. Some way down the slope, where a lane crossed the railway by a bridge she had intended to take herself, stood the Reverend Benjamin Porthwell. She pursed her lips in vexation, knowing that, red patches or not, he was sure to identify the pig, realise what had happened and demand his money back on the grounds that she had effectively fixed the competition. Attempting to blame Myrtle would be impractical and, as she no longer had all the money, the least she could expect was to be taken back to his flat and sodomised.

Her bottom was in no condition for such rough treatment, although she had lubricated it that morning in order to ease the soreness, so he would no doubt slide up easily enough without having to resort to the singularly disgusting technique he had used before. That was beside the point. Having been taught to accept a cock up her bottom, she had intended to develop this
new
skill, but with Freddie Drake rather than Benjamin Porthwell.

It was not clear what he was doing, but he was definitely in the way and could not fail to see her if she started down the slope. All she could do was hide and wait until he had passed, but while she could easily have hidden among the rocks the same was not true of the pig. A stand of fresh spring vegetation, hawthorn and stunted rowan trees offered far better concealment, and she burrowed hastily in, towing Singularis Porcus behind her.

The foliage was not as high as she might have wanted, and she was forced to duck low to make sure she wouldn’t be seen. A glimpse between the fronds showed that he was now coming up the hill, at a good pace for a man of his bulk. The pig had moved off in another direction, and she felt a touch of panic at the thought that he might have been seen, and that Porker was hurrying to investigate.

She froze, crouched low among the bushes, still peeping. There were several paths he might have chosen, but by ill luck he decided on one that passed only a few feet from her hiding place. He was sure to see her. A dip in the ground hid him from view for a moment and she dashed deeper in among the bushes, snagging her baggy shorts on a hawthorn branch. She jerked herself free, whereupon the stitch Vera had put in snapped, allowing her shorts to tumble down round her knees and send her headlong.

Sprawled on the ground, she needed a moment to recover from the shock of her fall. She heard the crash of a heavy body pushing through the bracken behind her and twisted round as she tried to rise, to find Porker Porthwell behind her, his eyes fixed on her bare bottom with evil intent.

‘Oh no, not that! Not again!’ she gasped. ‘Get off!’

He took no notice, pushing her on to all fours again and mounting her, his sheer bulk forcing her body down
and
making escape impossible. She felt his cock pressing between her bottom cheeks and snatched back to guard her precious, virgin cunt hole even as her knees slid wide in helpless acceptance of penetration. His balls slapped on her hand as he began to rut in her bottom slit, bringing himself to erection with just a few urgent pushes, and with the last the tip of his cock slipped into the already slippery cavity of her anus.

Stephanie’s mouth opened wide in a wordless belch as the full length of his twisted penis was rammed home up her bottom with one hard shove. Now buggered and with no choice anyway, she gave in completely, letting go of her cunt to steady herself. She was gasping and sobbing into the wet grass beneath her face, her eyes wide and her mouth agape, as the long, curly cock spiralled in and out of her bottom hole. Perhaps realising that she had given in, he made himself a little more comfortable on her back and began to bugger her with a steady, even rhythm, his corkscrew cock twisting her flesh with every push, while the huge, pendulous testicles swung against her cunt.

A bitter sob escaped her lips as she realised she was going to come before long, if he carried on like that, yet there was nothing she could do; she was unable to escape, and every smack of his huge balls against her quim drove her that little bit nearer to climax, despite the agonising shame in her head. She tried to wriggle forward, hoping to adjust herself so that his balls would stop hitting her puffy, well-spread cunt, sure that the motion of his cock in her rectum alone would not be enough to bring her off. It made no difference. Her body lay trapped and helpless, with no choice but to lie there and take it until he had finished himself off in her rectum.

‘Please, no, not this!’ she panted. ‘Not like this … not with you up my bottom … oh God, no! I’m coming, you filthy beast …’

Her voice rose to a long, pitiful wail as she felt her muscles start to contract, her buggered anus squeezing
on
his erection and her cunt tightening hard, once, then again, and she was coming, in helpless, full-blown orgasm, shrieking out her ecstasy to the moor even as the hot tears of unbearable shame trickled down her face. Unable to stop herself, she reached back, grabbed his bloated scrotum and pulled it hard against her, rubbing the wrinkly flesh between her sex lips, making herself come again and again, indifferent to his grunts and squeals of pain as she crushed his balls against her hungry cunt. She was sure he’d already come up her bottom, because hot, sticky fluid was running down to lubricate both scrotum and cunt as she rubbed, but knowing that her rectum was full of his spunk only drove her ecstasy higher, as did the weird twisting sensation in her straining anus and even the feel of his bulbous gut pressing on her naked, upturned bottom.

She began to buck her bottom against him, her bruised cheeks squashing against the meaty bulk of his huge belly, still riding an orgasm that felt as if it would never end. He was still pumping into her too, his thrusts ever harder and deeper, his cock twice pulling free of her anus, only to be thrust back up the gaping, slippery hole. Then it did so a third time, but just as she stuck her bottom up, so that when he pushed again his cock went into the wrong hole. Stephanie screamed as she felt her hymen burst, but there was nothing she could do about it, with his long, twisted cock already ensconced deep in her cunt, save babble pitiful protests.

‘You beast! You’ve had me, you beast! That was my maidenhead, you stupid pig, you stupid, stupid pig!’

He took no notice, unsurprisingly, and she was fucked where she lay, his cock pumping in and out, her body still responding with helpless little orgasmic jerks at every thrust. She could feel her virgin blood trickling down over her fingers, and her torn hymen stung dreadfully, but she kept her hand where it was, clutching at herself in helpless abandon as he pumped into her with ever greater speed. When a great mass of spunk
exploded
inside her cunt she realised that he hadn’t come before, and that it was some other liquid that was still oozing from her bottom hole.

When it was finally over she collapsed. His cock pulled free, leaving a trail of spunk across one bottom cheek as he dismounted, while more bubbled from her deflowered cunt as it slowly closed. She stayed down, shaking and exhausted, her fingers still clutching rhythmically at her flesh, her legs splayed as wide as her half-lowered shorts would permit, too far gone to care what she was showing, until the sound of a voice brought her sharply back to her senses. It was her grandfather, calling her name, and when she twisted around she found him standing just yards away, dressed in stalker’s tweeds and carrying an antique blunderbuss she recognised as one of a pair that normally formed part of a display on the drawing-room wall.

‘Whatever are you doing, Grandpapa?’ she managed.

‘I might very well ask you the same question,’ he retorted, his eyes bulging in astonishment as he viewed the state she was in.

She rolled over, hastily jerking up her shorts to hide her blood-smeared quim and her all too obviously buggered bottom hole, though it was too late for concealment. He was so close that he had to have seen everything.

‘I um … he got on my back, I couldn’t help it!’ she babbled. ‘Please don’t tell anybody, Grandpapa, please!’

‘It is hardly the sort of thing I would wish to advertise,’ he replied, ‘but I mean to say, he didn’t, er … um … deflower you, did he? Yes, I rather fear he did.’

‘Yes,’ Stephanie sobbed.

‘Don’t cry, old thing,’ he advised. ‘Remember, you’re a Truscott, and besides, it’s not too late. You want to marry young Freddie Drake, don’t you? Well, he’s around here somewhere, and without wishing to be rude, he’s not the brightest of fellows. Encourage him a
little
and he’s sure to do the deed, which would rather kill two birds with one stone, don’t you know.’

Stephanie responded with a blank stare, unable to take in what her grandfather was suggesting.

‘Run along, then,’ he advised. ‘The sooner the better for this sort of thing. I think he’s down by the railway.’

‘But Grandpapa,’ Stephanie began weakly, her head swirling with questions and objections. ‘I’ve just been –’

‘Precisely,’ he interrupted, ‘which will cause all sorts of awkwardness later unless you do the same with some more suitable candidate before you’ve um … dried up. Freddie Drake is the only sensible choice, for all my misgivings on the subject. Unless you’d rather marry Porker Porthwell, or that ass Attwater? He’s somewhere about as well.’

‘No,’ Stephanie replied.

‘Then go,’ he insisted. ‘Now, where’s that damned curate?’

‘Are you going to shoot him?’ Stephanie asked, half in hope and half in concern.

‘Good heavens, no,’ her grandfather answered. ‘The blunderbuss is for that fool Murgatroyd. We’re fighting our duel, and Freddie’s his second, if you remember?’

‘Er … yes,’ Stephanie admitted, ‘but Grandpapa …’

‘Not another word,’ he insisted. ‘Go and do what must be done.’

He moved off, crouching among the bushes, and Stephanie was left standing where she’d been fucked, with a mixture of fluids still trickling down the insides of her thighs. She felt dazed, but his advice made sense, and after a while she began to walk down the slope. There was no sign of Porker Porthwell, nor the pig, but before she’d gone a hundred yards she saw Freddie, buttoning his fly as he emerged from the shelter of a clump of gorse. It was rather hard to know what to say, and in the circumstances a slow, maidenly seduction was out of the question, so she simply waved.

‘What ho, old thing,’ he greeted her as they drew together. ‘I say, those aunts of yours are in the most frightful bate, and –’

‘Sh!’ Stephanie pressed a finger to his lips while her other hand reached for his fly.

‘I say!’ he remarked as she hooked his cock from his half unbuttoned trousers. ‘I say, Stiffy, steady on, old girl!’

Stephanie didn’t reply, her mouth already full of cock. Freddie swallowed and quickly pulled her back in among the gorse bushes and out of sight, never once detaching her from his cock.

‘You
are
eager!’ he said, reaching down to stroke her hair as she sucked.

It was true. For all her muddled feelings, Stephanie was still strongly aroused. Being unexpectedly mounted by the Porker, sodomised and fucked by pure accident was hardly the way she’d imagined losing her virginity, but it had been done and there was no denying the results of being so thoroughly used. Her cunt was juicy and ready for cock, despite the sting of her newly broken hymen, and she was impatient to get him hard and put him inside her.

He obliged, quickly stiffening under the ministrations of her tongue, until she had a long, thick erection in her mouth. Determined not to let him see until he was inside her, she pushed him down, still sucking as he first sank to his knees and then fell supine on the grass. She mounted him, holding his cock as she pulled aside the leg hole of her shorts and guided him in. He gave a gasp of surprise as he felt his helmet push at her cunt, but made no effort to stop her. Her torn flesh still stung, and there was nothing false about her cry of pain as her cunt filled with cock for the second time in her life. He was bigger than the Porker anyway, and quite hard to get in, so she was satisfyingly tight round him when she began to bounce on his erection.

Freddie needed no further encouragement but took her by the hips and thrust vigorously. She pulled her
shirt
up, and off, exposing her breasts to the warm spring sunshine and leaving her in nothing but shorts, socks and boots. It felt wonderful. Her pleasure quickly pushed aside the sharp pain. Her maidenhead was well and truly gone, her cunt fucked; the dirty words rang in her head as they pleasured each other, and before long she was rubbing herself on his trousers with every thrust, determined to come.

It took no time at all, her body tightening on his cock as his thrusts grew faster, and as her climax hit her she was wondering why she hadn’t given in years before, so wonderful did it feel. She lost control, screaming out her pleasure as she rode him, her head burning with dirty images, all delightful: images of what she was doing, of the appalling shame and unbearable ecstasy of what had just been done to her, and of every exquisite moment she’d ever known, not excluding her suffering at Myrtle’s hands, or her revenge.

As her cunt frantically contracted on Freddie’s cock, he came too, filling her with spunk right at the peak of her orgasm. She collapsed on to him and their mouths met in an open kiss as he continued to pump into her, filling her up until the spunk was squashing from her gaping hole and spattering their clothes with every thrust. Even when they’d finished they stayed together, clinging to each other in the aftermath of an ecstasy that was far more than merely sexual. At last she broke away and rolled off, to lie panting in the grass, with the sky and the green and yellow of the flowering gorse spinning slowly above her head, until she forced herself to look at him. His cock was still hard, sticking up from his open fly, the thick pink shaft streaked white with his spunk and red with her virgin blood.

‘I say, Stiffy,’ he gasped. ‘I know it’s a frightful lot to ask, but I don’t suppose you’d consider marrying a chap like me, would you? I mean to say, after –’