Butter Wouldn't Melt Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Penny Birch

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Copyright

  About the Book

  AJ pushed me towards the back of the arch. Nobody could see us unless they came directly past the opening, but we were still in the street, and I was shaking as I levered my knickers down underneath my skirt. They immediately fell down to my ankles, increasing my resentment and feelings of exposure as I tugged up my skirt to show her my bare bum. She bent close, examining me.

  ‘Have you been behaving yourself?’ she asked.

  When Pippa is accepted as a trainee in a city law firm, she fondly imagines a life both cultivated and intellectual, rather than the crew of sleazy ambulance chasers she ends up with. Worse still, they know more about her private life than she would have liked, leaving her little choice but to accept some highly humiliating duties in areas which involve very little legal know-how and a great deal of having her knickers taken down. To make matters worse, the possessive AJ – notorious diesel dyke and boss of a motorbike courier firm – regards Pippa as her private property, and American businessman Hudson Staebler, has his eye on Pippa’s little sister.

  About the Author

  Penny Birch is our most popular and biggest selling author. She is also an academic, fetish scene player and club organiser.

  By the same author:

  A TASTE OF AMBER

  BAD PENNY

  BARE BEHIND

  BRAT

  DIRTY LAUNDRY

  FIT TO BE TIED

  IN DISGRACE

  IN FOR A PENNY

  JODHPURS AND JEANS

  NAUGHTY NAUGHTY

  NURSE’S ORDERS

  KNICKERS AND BOOTS

  PEACH

  PENNY IN HARNESS

  PENNY PIECES

  PETTING GIRLS

  PLAYTHING

  REGIME

  TEMPER TANTRUMS

  TICKLE TORTURE

  TIGHT WHITE COTTON

  UNIFORM DOLL

  WHEN SHE WAS BAD

  TIE AND TEASE

  WHAT HAPPENS TO BAD GIRLS

  BRUSH STROKES

  SLIPPERY WHEN WET

  THE INDIGNITIES OF ISABELLE

  THE INDISCRETIONS OF ISABELLE

  THE INDECENCIES OF ISABELLE

  (Writing as Cruella)

  Why not visit Penny’s website at

  www.pennybirch.com

  BUTTER WOULDN’T MELT

  Penny Birch

  One

  ‘SO WHAT’S IT like being spanked, Pippa?’

  It’s not the sort of question you expect from your little sister, and it took me a moment before I could answer at all.

  ‘How should I know?’ I demanded, but I’d already started to blush.

  ‘I know you get it,’ she insisted.

  I threw a pillow at her, but she dodged it easily and folded her arms across her chest, looking down at me with that stubborn look she always uses when she wants something. She wasn’t going to go away until I’d answered her, but I still didn’t want to admit it.

  ‘What makes you think so?’ I asked, hoping she was only guessing.

  ‘I saw AJ make you bend over her bike when you came home last night,’ she answered.

  Now my cheeks were really burning, and I was wishing I had something a lot harder than a pillow to throw at her. The little witch had been peeping at me, but I knew I should really be angry with myself and not her. I’d been teasing AJ, and not surprisingly she’d punished me, but I could easily have refused, or at least put it off. Oh no, not me, I’d done as I was told, bending over the bike and sticking my bum out, in full view of the house.

  She’d told me to get bare, and like an idiot I’d done it, turning my skirt up and wriggling down my knickers to show my bum to the night so that she could plant a dozen firm smacks across my meat. It had felt good, so good I’d left my knickers down while I’d kissed her good night, confident that at two in the morning everybody would be asleep in bed. I’d been wrong.

  ‘Well?’ Jemima demanded.

  ‘It . . . it’s just something we do,’ I blustered. ‘A game.’

  ‘A punishment game?’ she asked, all interest. ‘Like, when one of you is naughty the other one smacks her bottom?’

  ‘Sort of,’ I admitted, fighting down the dreadful compulsion to tell her the truth.

  ‘So what’s it like?’ she went on.

  ‘Stingy,’ I told her, but I knew I couldn’t hold it in, not any longer.

  I’d wanted to tell her, right from the start really, but I’d always persuaded myself not to. All our lives she’d followed where I’d led, and I’d always liked my role of confident, protective big sister, but now it was different. I’d grown up to be a little pervert, but that’s my nature, not hers, and I didn’t want to risk corrupting her. Now she knew anyway, and I could only hope she was old enough to make her own decisions, because I wanted to tell her, badly.

  ‘Stingy,’ I repeated, ‘stingy but nice. AJ’s my girlfriend, and she spanks me for fun . . . for pleasure.’

  ‘I thought so,’ Jemima answered, thoroughly smug. ‘You never really liked boys, did you?’

  I just shrugged, unable even to begin to explain my feelings; on other girls, on men, on the whole confusing mess of my sexuality. Jemima came to sit on the end of my bed and began to toy with a string of her hair, her voice soft and sympathetic as she spoke again.

  ‘Are you going to tell Mum and Dad?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But they’re bound to find out.’

  Again I could only shrug in response. It wasn’t a subject I wanted to talk about, or even think about. Jemima continued to play with her hair, curling the long brown strands around her finger.

  ‘I’d already guessed you were a lesbian,’ she said after a pause, ‘but I never imagined you’d like to be spanked.’

  I gave another embarrassed shrug.

  ‘So, last night,’ she went on, ‘what did you do to get it?’

  ‘I was teasing her,’ I explained.

  ‘To make her spank you?’

  ‘Yes. It’s better if I feel I’m being made to give in to it. Only I get it.’

  ‘That’s not very fair.’

  I couldn’t even look at her for embarrassment as I began to explain, but I still felt the most wonderful sense of relief.

  ‘That’s just the way it works. I like to be spanked, and she likes to do the spanking, so we make a good couple. It feels right for her to spank me too, because she’s so tall and strong, and because she’s older than me.’

  ‘She’s scary.’

  ‘She turns me on.’

  ‘But . . . doesn’t it feel bad, being made to take your knickers down like that? Doesn’t it make you feel small?’

  ‘Sort of, yes, small and stupid, but being made to feel that way is part of the pleasure, especially when I’m made to show my bare bum. Normally, when she spanks me, she holds me down across her knee and takes my knickers down herself. I feel so helpless, and it’s hard to explain why I like it, because it ought to feel awful, but it’s so nice, just to be completely under her control, to be bare and know she’s going to spank my bottom and that she won’t stop until she’s done with me, and . . .’

  I realised I was babbling and went quiet, my face hot with blushes for my confession, but Jemima merely gave a solemn nod. Maybe she even understood, a little, because I’d expected her to laugh at me. Some of my confidence had begun to return as she spoke again.r />
  ‘She always gets your bum bare then?’

  ‘Always. It’s part of the ritual, for any girl who’s going to be spanked to have her knickers taken down. Everybody does it.’

  ‘Everybody?’

  I realised my mistake immediately, grimacing as I tried to cover up.

  ‘You know, everybody who’s into it. I go on net forums and that sort of thing.’

  Again she nodded, apparently accepting my explanation. After all, it was supposed to be the truth, that only AJ got to spank me, and there was no way on earth I was admitting to who had introduced me to my secret pleasure, and still did me occasionally, as I did her.

  ‘Tell me more about what you do with AJ,’ Jemima demanded.

  I found myself colouring again, but I wanted to tell her.

  ‘Usually it’s just like last night,’ I told her, ‘mainly play really, but special too, something to confirm how we feel for each other, like a kiss. Then there are punishments, which are a lot harder, and longer.’

  ‘You let her punish you? What, for real?’

  ‘Yes. It feels right, and it’s what I want. It’s cathartic too, that means . . .’

  ‘I know what cathartic means, Pippa. I suppose that makes sense, to feel better after a punishment, so long as you’ve done something wrong. What does she spank you for?’

  ‘Anything she likes. You see, I’ve given her the right to discipline me as she sees fit, so it might be anything. She’s quite strict, and sometimes I know it’s just because she wants to do it, but it’s always best when I’ve actually been naughty.’

  Jemima giggled, bringing the colour to my cheeks once more, but I went on.

  ‘Last week she spanked me for scuffing her boots – which is a big dyke thing – and she put me over her knee in the kitchen and spanked me with a wooden spoon, bare bottom of course. It hurt like anything, but I felt so good afterwards, even though my bum was red hot . . . no, because my bum was red hot . . .’

  Jemima was smiling, the same mischievous little smirk I knew so well. I stopped, blushing again even before she spoke.

  ‘I wish I’d seen that. You must have looked so funny!’

  She laughed as she finished and dodged for the door, reaching safety an instant before my hand closed on my second pillow, which was the only missile within easy reach. Her laughter trailed off as she fled down the stairs, no doubt expecting me to follow, but I stayed on my bed, my thoughts as confused as ever. I was glad she’d found out, in a way, because it had hurt to keep a secret from her, and yet I knew there would be drawbacks. She would tease me mercilessly, but I could cope with that. What I couldn’t cope with was the thought of her trying to imitate me.

  I rolled over onto my front, listening to the familiar morning sounds, with which I was no longer involved. It felt strange, after following the same routine for so long, and I even got an involuntary flush of panic as I heard the sound of the bus, worried I’d miss it and be late for school. That set me smiling. There was no more school, never again. I was free, with over a year in front of me before I went up to university, a year to discover myself.

  Not that I intended to waste my time. With any luck I would manage to find a work placement with a law firm, allowing me to get ahead of my colleagues before I even arrived at uni. That would mean I’d be earning enough to fulfil my other ambition and buy a motorbike, although that was going to mean facing up to the parents. They didn’t like me riding pillion with AJ, despite having no idea about our true relationship, and it wasn’t just the danger. To Mum in particular a motorbike represented everything she disliked, and which they’d done their best to keep me away from. Buying my own was not going to be popular.

  Fortunately they couldn’t stop me, not once I was earning my own money, although it was tempting to keep it at AJ’s for the sake of peace and quiet. Then again, AJ would laugh at me, the way she always did when she felt I wasn’t standing up to my parents. Possibly she’d even spank me, for being weak, or even something worse, a thought which sent a delicious shiver right through me.

  I began to daydream, imagining the conversation, how I would explain what I wanted to AJ. Her mouth would move gradually into a knowing sneer as I spoke, and I’d know what was coming long before she told me I deserved a punishment, filling me with that wonderful sense of utter hopelessness that only comes when I know I’m going to be spanked and there is nothing whatsoever I can do to get out of it. It was always best that way, as a proper punishment. I like teasing her to make her do it, but I far prefer finding myself in trouble and no way out.

  My mind began to dwell on the possibilities. Maybe it would be in her room and she’d put me over her knee on the bed, take down my knickers and smack my bottom until I was well and truly contrite, after which she’d put me on my knees and make me lick her pussy. Then again, if we’d been talking motorbikes it might be in her garage, in which case she’d probably put me over the seat of her big black machine for my punishment. Perhaps she’d even make me mount it, after having me strip from the waist down, or nude. Either way my bottom would be fully open to her, with my bumhole showing between my cheeks and my pussy all wet while she spanked me. Her hands would be dirty, making black handprints all over my skin, and when she’d finished she’d use the grease-gun to lubricate my bumhole so that she could slip a screwdriver handle up my bottom. She’d leave me like that too, to think about how ridiculous I looked, mounted on her bike in the nude with a screwdriver sticking out between my smacked cheeks.

  I was going to have to play with myself. There was nobody else in the house anyway, so why not? I wanted to do it face down and imagine I’d been spanked, so I quickly lifted my hips to push down my knickers from underneath the old shirt I’d worn to bed before turning up the tail to leave myself bare behind. Just the feel of exposing myself was enough to send a powerful shiver through me, and I knew it wouldn’t take long. Parting my knees and lifting my bottom a little more, I imagined myself in the same position over the seat of AJ’s bike, legs spread and vulnerable, hiding nothing as she worked my bottom over with her dirty hands.

  Everything about it felt good, the cool air on my bare bottom, the tautness of my knickers around my thighs, the subtle feel of my upturned shirt tail on my back, all of it keeping my exposure firmly in mind. I slid a hand back to find pussy, already moist, my lips puffy and swollen, pouting out from between my thighs. My cheeks were open too, my bumhole on show, tempting me to reach back and tickle the tight little knot of flesh until it began to pulse and squirm.

  I imagined how the screwdriver handle would feel up my bottom, hard, thick and round, and wondered if being sodomised with a tool counted as losing my anal virginity. It was such a delicious thought it made me squirm, wiggling my bottom as I eased the top joint of my finger into my hole. For a moment my mind slipped, as I wondered how it would feel to have a man insert his penis into the same tight orifice, or even in pussy, taking my true virginity as I posed spanked and spread before him. As always when I thought of men, distaste quickly pushed aside the thrill, and as I began to tease my clitoris my thoughts were back on track, or almost.

  My mental image had shifted, to my kitchen spanking of the week before. It had hurt like anything, and left my cheeks marked with dull bruises, but the sense of utter helplessness under so much pain had been overwhelming. I normally take it quite well, fairly well anyway, but not then, not held firmly down across AJ’s knee with my bottom stripped as she applied the big wooden spoon to my meat. She’d been mercilessly hard, and I’d wriggled and kicked and squirmed, going into what a certain somebody called a spanking tantrum. Jemima was right, it must have looked funny.

  I was on the edge of orgasm, unable to stop myself as my fantasy slipped to where I desperately did not want it to go, imagining that Jemima had really been there, watching as my jeans were pulled down, giggling as my knickers followed and big sister’s bottom came bare, laughing openly as the spanking began and I went into my helpless, agonised tantrum. A sob of deep sha
me escaped my lips, but I couldn’t stop myself, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head, spanked in front of my little sister . . . spanked bare bottom in front of my little sister . . . spanked bare bottom in front of my little sister and then made to masturbate with a finger up my bumhole, just as I was doing now.

  My orgasm came and I cried out in a mixture of ecstasy and overwhelming shame, but I still couldn’t stop myself, my mind fixed firmly on the image of my own well-spanked bum with my finger inserted into the little central hole as Jemima laughed at my plight. Not that it was the first time I’d got carried away with a fantasy, but I was left feeling sheepish and distinctly sorry for myself as I went slowly limp, and I stayed lying on the bed with my knickers still down behind for a long time, lost in thought.

  I’d put a lot of effort into getting my work placement, writing to dozens of firms and constantly pestering Dad to use his business contacts. Unfortunately I wasn’t the only aspiring law student with a clutch of A*s on my CV, and so far I’d had nothing but rejections. Now, as I finally managed to haul myself downstairs after playing with pussy and taking a leisurely bath I found that another two refusals had arrived in the post, which completely spoilt my mood.

  There was nothing to do, and I spent the day mooching around the house, until Jemima got back from school, along with Mum, who’d spent the day at Granny’s. They picked me up a little, but nothing like as much as when Dad got home. He was grinning from ear to ear as he threw a big white envelope down on the kitchen table.

  ‘I think this might be what you’re looking for, Pip,’ he told me.

  I’d already guessed what it would be, and was tearing the envelope open even as I kissed him in thanks. As I’d hoped, it was a letter from a firm of lawyers, and not just any old lawyers, but a firm in the City of London with a very grand and old-fashioned sounding title – Montague, Montague, Todmorden and Montague – arranged beneath an elaborate gold crest and a foundation date in the mid-nineteenth century.

  ‘How did you manage it?’ I asked.

  ‘Contacts,’ he replied casually. ‘No, seriously, one of the Montagues is the lawyer for the firm who’re developing Thames Vista Estate, and they owe me a favour. You have to get through an interview as well, so it’s not a foregone conclusion.’