Some of the kids laughed. I knew them. They were afraid of Jake and they would never have dared laugh if BJ hadn’t been there. At that time our families—BJ’s and mine—were in a bitter generational feud. It is only recently that Jake and BJ had uprooted the barbed fences between our families. Since everybody knew about the bad blood, they thought they could ingratiate themselves with BJ by laughing at me.
But in a flash, BJ came to me and pulled me up easily. Even then he was a big lad. The other kids immediately ceased laughing. They were scared of him.
‘Are you all right?’ he’d asked.
But I was so mortally embarrassed that he had witnessed my humiliation, I lashed out ungratefully. ‘Take your dirty hands off me, you filthy Pilkington, you,’ I spat.
He had a mohawk then and it looked strange when he flushed bright red. He jerked his hand away from me.
I turned on my heel huffily, and limped away on my twisted ankle, my nose held high. I knew he was watching me but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning back to look. After that we became enemies. And now he had caught me in his bedroom.
Finally, he can exact his revenge.
He takes a step towards me and I nearly cower, but he only strides past me. Alarm plucking at my belly, I watch him sit on his enormous bed, slap his thigh and say, ‘Ready when you are.’
‘Where force is necessary, there it must be applied boldly, decisively and completely. But one must know the limitation of force; one must know when to blend force with a maneuver, a blow with an agreement.’
—Leon Trotsky 1879 -1940
THREE
Layla
He holds a hand out to me. Dazed with disbelief, I walk up to him. Even now, I still can’t believe he means to go through with it. This surely must be the part where he admits it has all been a brutish Pilkington joke. My eyes plead frantically with him.
‘Lie across my lap,’ he instructs politely.
Oh dear God! For a moment I cannot move, my mind unable to accept that he really expects me to submit to such humiliation.
Unaffected by my silent pleas, he cocks a dark eyebrow and nods meaningfully at his lap. ‘No need to be shy. I’ve seen it all before, remember?’ he taunts.
Our eyes lock. I flush furiously. Then my pride kicks in. No, you despicable, disgusting, insufferable man, you haven’t seen it all. So much has changed since you last looked.
My bottom is naked, but for three bits of string and the smallest triangle of black lace. It’s a far cry from the polka dot underwear he once saw. Only this morning, I had exfoliated my entire body until it was silky smooth, then rubbed Golden Brown Level 3 fake tan over every inch. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am glowing!
I lift my chin and stare down at him with a mixture of contempt and stiff hatred. His reaction is to twist his lips with amusement.
I drop my purse to the floor and, gritting my teeth, I put my hand into his and gingerly lower myself onto his lap. I flinch when my skin makes contact with the steel-like muscles of his thighs. I turn in his hard lap and bend forward, laying my palms flat on the floor to steady myself. In order to keep my legs firmly together, my knees are straight and stiff. The tips of my toes don’t touch the floor and hot blood floods into my head. The position is awkward and unsteady. My nose is less than a foot away from the dark floor and I can see the grain in the naked wood as it glows purple in the firelight.
‘Are you ready?’
Hell would have to freeze over before I agree that I am.
Glad that my hair is hiding my burning face, I close my eyes with impotent fury and shame. He grasps the many layers of my skirt and flips them over my lower back … and becomes completely still. So still it affects even the air in the room. A mad thrill runs through me. You haven’t seen it all have you, big guy? Another thought: he’s not immune.
I hear him inhale sharply before a large callused palm rests on the cheeks of my bottom. I know he can see the string of my panties between my pussy lips. Resentment races down my spine, but I am suddenly conscious that I am inexplicably wet. His palm is still resting on my skin. I feel it move slightly, almost a caress but not quite and I feel myself begin to tremble.
BJ
Who’d have fuckin’ thought?
Layla Eden’s damn near naked ass laid out like an eat-as-much-as-you-want banquet in my lap. I gaze down at my rough palm resting peacefully on her silky smooth skin in astonishment. Freaking unbelievable! How is this even possible? My cock gets busy inside my pants and I’m suddenly harder than I’ve been in my whole life. A state I’m clearly entitled to given the exceptional circumstances—I am, after all, looking down at Layla Eden’s golden bottom sprawled across my fuckin’ lap.
You got the peaches, I got the cream, babe.
The desire to caress the pert, round shape is so powerful, its pull catches me off guard. Lightly, almost against my will, my hand brushes the smooth center of the twin globes of firm flesh. That almost imperceptible action makes her body jerk. A shocked ‘oh’ tumbles out of her full lips and her right arm lifts off the floor, sinking her balance. Suddenly it’s panic at all stations, her body tilts precariously and her deliciously long legs start flailing.
With pleasure, my other hand wraps firmly around her waist. She has a wasp-like waist. I could span it with my hands. She returns her palm back to the floor and some semblance of order is restored.
I gaze down at my catch.
Her ass is a coy little thing, prudishly hiding her anus. Originally, there’d only been just enough of a gap underneath her cheeks to show off a tantalizing triangle of lace-curtained pussy, however since the pointless panic episode, her legs have moved further apart, and she is now quite brazenly exposing a fair bit of her fruitcake. Which, I must say, for a thin girl is surprisingly plump and ripe looking. Between the fat, pink lips, the black G-string of her panties is stretched tight and cutting rather cruelly into her flesh. Update: wet flesh. Someone is getting a little excited for her punishment, methinks.
It really is the most perfect sight.
Almost an open invitation.
My fingers itch to push aside the ridiculous string and enter her pussy. What would she do? Scream blue murder, no doubt. And that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hell, I’d love to fuck this woman spitting and hissing. I don’t think I’ve ever been with such a haughty bitch before. Even the thought has me salivating, but I’ve got to pretend that this is about chastisement and not pleasure.
‘You will count the blows or they will not register,’ I tell her, my voice dead detached.
She freezes and around my palm gooseflesh begins to form on her perfect skin.
‘Get on with it,’ she grates.
I smile to myself. Ah, Layla, you’re so fuckin’ transparent, so perfectly predictable. She is determined to get through this unpleasant business as soon as possible and never give me the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
No can do, baby.
I open my fingers on her butt and she tightens her cheeks with anticipation. I can’t help it. My fingers curl and I squeeze the firm flesh. She moans and the unmistakable scent of her arousal hits me like a call during mating season. It’s the kind of smell that can drive a man—well, me anyway—crazy. Heavy, suffocating, insistent. I want to answer it.
Layla Eden may be a snooty, spoilt bitch, but l want to fuck her so bad I’m like those dogs that jump fences and break their legs just because a bitch in heat is passing by on the other side. Hers is the kind of body that I can spend all night, every night, diving into. I want to pick her up like the doll she is, open her legs wide, and suck until her flavor runs over my tongue and coats my throat. Hours later, when she is passed out cold, I want to be able to swirl my tongue and taste her in my mouth all over again.
A voice in my head urges, Jump the fence then. Break a leg. It’ll heal. She bloody well asked for it. Didn’t she come into your bedroom of her own freewill? But another sane voice is already warning. Even this is madness. What the fuck d
o you think you’re doing with Jake’s fuckin’ sister? I listen to the sane voice. I have resisted the call of her delicious body off and on over the years. I can do it again.
I could never really decide if I wanted to spank her saucy ass until it was scarlet or fuck her senseless. Now appears both impulses come from the same place. I watch her body. Frozen in place. Tense. Waiting for the flat of my hand.
I will hit her hard, hard enough to successfully convince her that this is a punishment and not the sexual encounter it is. I will be methodical. Each slap will land on a different spot. One cheek, then the other. Under the cups of flesh, and finally, where her thighs meet her body.
I rest the forearm of my left hand across her back and watch her toes curl. A delightfully involuntary response. I raise my hand and hold it suspended high above my head. Ms. Eden’s butt trembles helplessly.
Oh! Yes …