Monday, February 20, 2012

From the Top Shelf - Military Discipline II


Today I have for you the second half of Lauren Aspen's Military Discipline, from Alex Birch's blog, Taste of the Birch. If you missed the first installment, you can read it here.

Despite trying, largely successfully as they both did, to keep their relationship on a professional footing over the subsequent couple of weeks there was no doubt that a Rubicon had been crossed. An electric erotic tension so strong it was almost palpable seemed to arc between the Private and Major at times and it was all either could do to contain themselves.

Eventually Eileen, straightforward and determined as ever, took the initiative. In just two weeks the major’s current mission would be complete and both parties posted Lord knew where. She was dammed if she was going to let a catch like this escape and determined to engineer a consummation of their mutual desire, no matter what the short-term personal cost.

‘You’ve done what!’ said an exasperated Appleton.

‘Bashed the Humber Sir, sorry Sir.’

‘Christ, just when I thought we’d return it pristine, have you any idea of the paperwork I’ll have to fill in?’

‘I imagine it’s terrible Sir, I expect I’m in big trouble now?’

‘You suppose correctly, private.’

‘In which case no doubt you’ll want to punish me, Sir.’

‘Punish you, how?’ Appleton was suspicious. No squaddie ever volunteered for discipline.

‘Yourself, I mean like last time Sir, don’t want to ruin my perfect army driving record and affect my chances of a job on demob.’

‘The bumper will still be bent no matter how you’re dealt with,’ pointed out Appleton crossly.

‘Ah well Sir,’ responded Eileen chirpily, ‘thing is I’ve a pal in the motor section where we’re going tomorrow, he’ll straighten it out as a personal favour and I can bolt it back on myself, we’ll just lose a couple of hours that’s all.’

‘Really? You seem to have thought this through very thoroughly Private Terry,’ said Appleton cautiously; his initial glimmer of suspicion began to rapidly grow.

‘Just using the old noggin’ Sir,’ continued Private Terry, suddenly anxious to move the conversation on, ‘So I’ll report your quarters at 2100 hours to take my medicine shall I Sir?’

‘Yes, very well Terry,’ agreed Appleton distractedly, an absorbing idea beginning to take shape in his head. ‘Oh and Private…’

‘Yes Sir?’

‘Since a hand spanking has singularly failed to have the requisite salutary effect you’d better use that initiative of yours a bit more and find something else for me to punish you with.’

At 9pm on the dot there was a sharp rap on the door of his secluded billet on the far edge of the camp.

‘Enter,’ said the Major curtly and Private Terry marched smartly into the room.

‘Ah Terry,’ observed Appleton, looking up from the armchair where he was enjoying a rather good restorative single malt, ‘punctual, present and correct I see.’

‘Yes Sir, she replied hesitantly, suddenly this didn’t seem like such a clever wheeze after all.

‘And what..?’ he enquired rising from the chair, ‘have you bought me?

‘This sir,’ she replied, unenthusiastically proffering a slender flexible parcel, which contained, he discovered upon tearing off the brown paper, a riding crop.

‘Where on earth..?’

‘Mine Sir,’ carry it with me in my kit, just in case I get the chance of a hack somewhere we visit. Thought It’d be going home unused but…’

‘Events took an unexpected turn?’ the Major ventured.

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Ah, but that’s not quite true is it Private?’

‘Sir?’ Eileen sounded worried; it transpired, with good reason.

‘There was nothing spontaneous about today’s little accident was there?’

‘What do you mean Sir?’ Acting innocent was not her forte.

‘I mean I saw you deliberately reverse the Humber into that post for a start… No hear me out,’ he added as she moved to make an excuse. ‘Having no doubt already established your mate could fix it. You’re far too competent a driver to make a mistake such as that so I can only assume this whole little scenario is a deliberate set up.’

Private Terry had turned a nasty shade of pale, being caught out so easily had not been part of her plan.

‘Don’t panic Private,’ said Appleton correctly interpreting her aghast expression, ‘all is not lost. In fact such a hamfisted lie gives me all the more reason to punish you severely.’ He swished the crop loudly through the air.

‘Extra strokes, a sound thrashing,’ he added, emphasising the latter word with evident relish. ‘Deceiving a senior officer is a far more serious matter than simply denting a car wouldn’t you agree Private?’

‘Sir, I…’

‘No matter, I don’t require your agreement,’ he added pacing the room slapping her uniformed rump in the process, ‘and be warned girl, this dose of discipline will be on your bare bottom.’

‘Sir!’ Eileen was shocked. Just when she’d imagined herself to be orchestrating events the tables had been comprehensively turned.

‘You know the routine Private, cap and tunic off and across my knee, now.’

Stung by his cold, commanding tone Eileen hurried to obey.

Unlike the previous occasion, Major Appleton wasted no time in soundly tanning her rear. For five full minutes every inch of Eileen’s unfortunate knicker-clad rump was treated to an unremittingly thorough spanking. Appleton didn’t once pause until he could perceive a roseate glow permeating the tightly stretched silk knickers.

Eventually the Major took a break to allow himself and the already moist-eyed, squirming girl across his lap to draw breath. Notwithstanding different colour knickers there were, he now noticed, other more subtle sartorial variations in Private Terry’s presentation. More makeup than one might usually expect to find adorning an on-duty female member of the ranks for a start. Not that this was visible at present since her animated and increasingly shrill gyrations had caused Eileen’s shoulder length curly brunette hair to come unpinned and fall about her face.

Appleton sniffed, perfume and not the sort of cheap stuff the average female squaddie usually treated herself to from Boots either but then, despite her current humble calling, Eileen was after all a nice middle class gel. He sniffed again; Private Terry’s body further betrayed her, protestations and pleas for mercy aside the Major caught the unmistakable tang of female sexual arousal.

Brief interlude over he purposefully grasped the waistband of her drawers and tugged them firmly down over the generous curve of Eileen’s crimson marked buttocks to the tops of her stockings. These weren’t standard issue either, he observed, being the very latest American nylons, sheer, seamed, fully-fashioned and sheathing her elegant legs all the from way from the tips of Eileen’s toes to the tops of her thighs.

He could see her toes clearly because, in the struggle to stop him pulling down her pants – during which Appleton had grasped the young madam’s wrists firmly in the small of her back – she had kicked her equally non regulation court shoes across the floor.

‘Oh no please Major, don’t spank me bare,’ wailed Eileen, who up to now had thought this only a threat, ‘please. It’s so undignified.’

Her heartfelt pleas were all to no avail unfortunately, Appleton calmly ignored her cries and resumed the spanking of her out-thrust seat, taking care to fill in any previously neglected areas of unblemished skin before concluding by peppering the tops of her tender thighs with a series of stinging slaps which send tears running down her face.

‘Right Private, that concludes the first part of your punishment,’ said Appleton whose hand was beginning to smart. ‘Up onto your feet, leave those knickers around your knees and go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head for five minutes.’

‘Yes Sir,’ answered Eileen miserably, stumbling awkwardly across the floor to obey his instruction. Crestfallen and humbled she stood facing the wall; pussy throbbing wildly, bottom burning fiercely, desperate to rub away the blazing hurt but too scared of the consequences to do so.

Appleton returned to his easy chair, took up his whisky glass and settled down to enjoy the view. The smartly turned out Private who’d presented at his threshold just 15 minutes before was now a methodically castigated, dishevelled and tear-stained young lady. Clothes awry, mascara running, bouncing curls tangled she fidgeted uncomfortably as the heat from her burning seat gradually suffused every element of her lower body, especially her sopping sex. Submitting to the dashing young officer might have been painful but a substantial part of her enjoyed the element of coercion and - as the first spanking had taught her - such humiliation had its compensations.

On please, she thought, if she could only somehow convince him to take her now, assuage the ache between her legs, satisfy this atavistic need to be held and vigorously, passionately, ’seen to’.

For his part Appleton’s mind was following a broadly similar path, albeit from a dominant male’s perspective. First there was a job to be done, this little minx must be left in doubt who had, and would always have, the upper hand. Then, the Major decided, it was time to throw caution to the winds, unless he was very mistaken the erect nippled, evidently aroused clergyman’s daughter was more than ready to be fucked, and right know he’d an erection like a tent pole just yearning for the task.

‘Turn around Private,’ he commanded softly, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle as, blushing furiously she did so lowering her hands to cover her auburn bush. ‘Come now Terry, it’s a bit late in the day for modesty isn’t it?’ enquired Appleton. ‘You surrendered most of that just now when you were hollering, bare bummed over my knee, scissoring your legs and revealing all of a girl’s most intimate secrets.’

Poor Private Terry blushed even deeper, her bottom lip quivering. ‘Was it that blatant?’ she whimpered.

‘Yes, confirmed,’ Appleton his voice taking kinder tone, ‘but thank you I’m flattered. Now let’s get the concluding part of your punishment over with young lady. Skirt and knickers off then get yourself bent over the back of this easy chair, head and hands on the seat, feet slightly apart and bottom pushed well out for a taste of the crop.’

With a pathetic sniffle, surely sufficient to melt all but the hardest heart Private Terry did his bidding.

‘Wait a moment,’ said Appleton as she stepped gingerly from her skirt.

‘Sir?’

‘Put those shoes back on Private, the heels will stiffen your calves and help push that naughty little arse into prominence.’

He was of course correct and soon had the unhappy soldier presented in an optimum position.

‘Excellent,’ confirmed Appleton, pacing around, appreciating the view. ‘Legs wider apart, bottom out further, very good.’

‘Oh goodness, what must he be able to see,’ worried Eileen, bitterly regretting her earlier bravado and the mess she’d got herself into. ‘With my bum presented like this my pussy, even my anus must be clearly visible.’

Indeed they were. Major Appleton had not selected this pose by accident. He bent closer, no doubt about it; beads of moisture were visible on her pubic hairs, labia pouting invitingly between the curls.

‘How many strokes Sir?’ enquired Eileen barely able to stop her voice from shaking.

How many indeed? His fantasy now made flesh Appleton could happily have thrashed this delectable derriere all night, but punishment was no longer the principal part of his agenda.

A dozen perhaps? No wise up man. The girl before him, the girl for whom his feeling were growing by the day, the girl dam it who had set up this little scenario before getting more than she bargained for, had born her travails bravely. Done everything he’d asked; her poor hot posterior was already tender to the slightest touch. Beat her hard and he’d be nothing more than a bullying brute and Lord knows the army had enough sadists in its upper echelons. Beat her hard and Eileen’s evident sexual stimulation would disappear in a blaze of soul-destroying pain.

‘How many do think you deserve?’ he enquired archly, playing for time as he picked up the crop and swished it noisily through the air.

She flinched visibly at the sound. The notion of its imminent searing impact on her already scalded skin was unthinkable.

‘Perhaps six Sir?’ she ventured, her voice cracking, sure she’d never escape that lightly.

‘Six, yes that seems fair,’ agreed Appleton easily, reluctant to torment Eileen further. Idly he flicked the crop’s leather flaps against the tops of her thighs, watching her shudder at even this fleeting touch. ‘Six and your penance shall be paid Private.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘Private…’ began Appleton flicking the crop’s end carefully up between her lewdly parted thighs where it landed lightly but damply against her sodden sex sending shudders of desire though her lower limbs.

‘Sir?’

‘Do I take it you are not a virgin?’

‘Fraid not Sir.’

‘Why?’

Because women have needs as well as men,’ the lithe young girl retorted immediately, more than a trace of her old spirited self evident in her tone, ‘anyway,’ she added looking back over her shoulder, a hint of humour on her lips, eyes bright once more, ‘how do think I got these stockings?’

‘And that doesn’t spoil a girl for marriage?’

‘I wouldn’t like to marry any man who thought that’s all a girl was intended to do,’ she replied reasonably, ‘but,’ she added quickly, ‘I was joking about the nylons.’

‘One Yank and they’re off, that’s what they say.’ It was Appleton’s turn to grin, ‘don’t worry Private, I didn’t think you were that undiscriminating.’

‘Sir, could we possibly get this hiding over with?’ enquired a newly emboldened Eileen.

‘You in a hurry soldier?’

‘Well rather Sir, yes; because after you’ve striped my wretched bum I was rather hoping you might relieve a girl’s misery with a through rogering.’

‘Only a cad could refuse,’ said Appleton dryly, taking a step backwards and smoothly delivering the first of six strokes, decorating the smarting, erotic swell of her nether cheeks with half a dozen parallel bands of vivid purple fire, from the crest of Eileen’s perfectly rounded orbs to just above the tops of her tan stockings. A carefully spaced volley of firm but fair strokes delivered with tennis player’s forearm and a badminton champ’s wrist. Rapid, scorching, cleansing impacts each of which left a livid wheal across the taut, yielding flesh of her gorgeous arse.

‘Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH!” Each scourging contact of the crop was punctuated by a progressively louder emotional exclamation from Eileen the final, seventh, cry mingling surprise and relief as a rod of an entirely different kind made its presence felt inside her overheated sex. Carefully the Major slipped the tip between the slickly lubricated, puffy lips of her intimate anatomy, one inch, she moaned anew, then two, another cry, more guttural, next three and then he abruptly halted.

Puzzled, Eileen turned her face towards her senior officer who held her firmly by the hips, the frustration was unbearable, it was too late to stop now. Then, instantly she understood, he might not be making her beg but the Major was going to ensure Eileen worked for her pleasure. Slowly, lasciviously, she began to rotate the glowing roundness of her smarting backside, shimmying her supple hips like an accomplished voluptuary, all the while gradually pushing up her hot sore tush towards the steely abdomen of her chastiser. Faster now, her breath beginning to come in pants, she impaled her honeyed portals, clenching her muscles, pulling him deep inside. Back and forth, harder and deeper, she felt his balls slaps against her perineum as Appleton lifted her onto the tips of her toes to ensure that every last centimetre of his impressive cock, quite the biggest she’d ever experienced, was rammed home to the hilt. Later they would repeat the exercise, face to face enfolded in each other arms. Next time the pace would be leisurely but now neither could contain themselves a moment longer, each urging the other to an orgasmic conclusion.

‘Corporal?’ enquired Appleton some 10 minutes later, he sitting back in the easy chair, she perching gingerly on his undamaged knee - neither had adjusted their dress, eyes and hands locked together, basking in a satisfied, post-coital silence.

‘Sir?’ replied Eileen lazily.

‘They’ve asked me to extend this tour to our bases in the Med.’

‘Really Sir.’

‘I like you to join me.’

‘That would be more of an instruction than a request would it Sir?’

‘That’s pretty much how I perceive the future of this partnership, yes.’

‘In that case, like a shot Sir,’ she agreed immediately, then quizzically ‘but Sir, what did you mean Corporal?’

‘Ah yes, meant to tell you, I put you up for promotion, it came through yesterday. Dam appropriate in view of our little disciplinary encounters eh Eileen?’

‘Corporal punishment,’ she mused, very droll, very corny but very accurate. Yes, why not? ‘Thank you Sir.’

‘Call me Andrew and thank you corporal.’

Whew! I don't know about you, but I need a cold shower after reading that!


From Hermione's Heart

10 comments:

Spanky said...

Excellent! Thanks for all the effort this post must have taken. I especially liked the word "voluptuary." Sounds like part of a lyric from Gilbert and Sullivan. "Thorough rogering" gets a +1 too.

Anonymous said...

What a fantastic tanning Eileen got across her lovely and well presented ripe bottom. Soundly spanked first to heat up her rear so that she was better able to take the six of the very best from the switch, which even so must have stung like hell, but also made her even keener to take the mighty poking she got from the major. I'm sure, during her tour of the Med. the Corporal's bottom was often offered to the Major, with her thin tropical skirt on high, and her tiny briefs lowered for another good spanking, and sometimes a taste of a swishy cane.
I hope on return home, their were wed, and the whacking of Mrs Major's bottom continued long after the end of the war. D

Our Bottoms Burn said...

I suppose you will have to write the third half

Hermione said...

Spanky - The language is intriguing; that's one of the reasons I like this story so much.

Anon - You've written a lovely sequel to the story.

OBB - Anonymous already took care of that much better than I could have.

Hugs,
Hermione

Serafina Samadhi said...

A cold shower indeed!!

sixfothebest said...

Alex Birch at his best. The spanking community lost a great author, when he passed away.

ronnie said...

Super choice Hermione, thank you. Love the language he uses.

I wish I'd read more from Alex Birch a superb writer.

Love,
Ronnie
xx

Larken said...

Hi, Hermione!

Just read your interview over at Blossom and Thorn. I've lurked here a bit before, and enjoy your blog very much. I thought it was time to say hello. :-)

Wow, am I ever glad I stopped by here today. What a story! Thank you for posting this. I'm looking forward to visiting here more often.

Larken

Hermione said...

Serafina - Welcome! I need a cold shower too, after rereading it:)

Six - Very true, so we did.

Ronnie - I have a few more tidbits from his blog that I will share in coming weeks.

Larken - Welcome! You timed it just right, then. I hope you read part one as well.

Hugs,
Hermione

Anonymous said...

Perhaps 'Anon' should try for part 4 of the sequel ?
Andrew and Eileen got back to England, and once more she was driving his car,her khaki uniform skirt going north, and her silk knickers south, quite often ; usually for one of his powerful spankings, but also for a taste of her riding whip, or cane, which was given when the marks on her bottom were fading. The reward from his impressive cock was well worth the smart in her bottom , and Eileen also found herself promoted to Sargeant, the three stripes on her arm often matching those on her bottom. Then one day, as she lay over his lap, her bottom scorching from a meeting with a big wooden hairbrush which he had just acquired , his hand started gently rubbing her sore cheeks, and he said"Will you marry me. Eileen my love ?" She gasped in surprise. " I'll let you know after you have completed your half of the bargain", and a moment later, she found herself bent over the bed, Andrew's cock deeply inside her, pumping away and soon bringing them both to a fine climax. He was still in her, as she turned round, and smiling happily said," Yes please, if you continue to look after my bottom so well". His cock, still hard ,resumed it's work.
The war was still just on, but they both managed to get a weeks leave, and the wedding took place, with just a few friends; Andrew wearing his army uniform, she a white silk dress which some friend had made for her from parachute material, and which fitted her svelte bottom very snugly. As she walked back down the aisle on Andrew's arm, she hoped that the stripes he had applied to her rear a day or so before would not show through ! A sly pat to it, launched Eileen to her married life.
Anon will try for part 5 in a few days.