Tie and Tease Read online

  I dabbed the puff between Melody’s arse cheeks and over her pussy, feeling more servile than usual – the beaten maid powdering her mistress’s body, allowed to do the most intimate places because she was too inconsequential for it to matter what she saw.

  ‘Good girl,’ she sighed. ‘A little more on the pussy, then you can kiss my arse.’

  I knew she didn’t mean just the cheeks. My face pressed between her big, meaty black cheeks; my lips touched her bottom-hole and I was doing it, kissing another’s girl’s anus. No sooner had my lips found her clit than she reached back and pulled me off by my hair.

  ‘Not yet, girl. Now get your slobber off my pussy.’

  Once more I dried and powdered her, then kneeled back, wondering what she wanted. Her thighs were well apart, with every detail on show. I looked up at her, finding her watching me with an expression of lust and sadistic hauteur.

  ‘Watch my pussy, Penny,’ she said. ‘Watch me pee.’

  Contents

  About the Book

  Also by Penny Birch

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Amber held the nettle up to me, letting me see the long stem and jagged leaves, each with its array of tiny strings. My nipples were straining upward as I squirmed and writhed in my bonds, and it was impossible not to push my chest out as the wicked thing was moved closer to my skin, brushing my breasts with a sharp, tickling sensation that quickly grew to a fiery stinging.

  Penny Birch is playing the fox in a bizarre hunting game. But all does not go according to plan, and she’s found by a total stranger, Beth, who’s naturally concerned at the state of her. After spending an awkward afternoon explaining herself, Penny becomes determined to seduce Beth, an innocent in all the ways of bizarre naughtiness. Penny’s continued efforts get her into more and more difficulty, frequently punished and humiliated, even put on a roasting spit, until by eve she is wondering if she can take any more.

  Why not visit Penny’s website at:

  www.pennybirch.com

  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

  THE INDIGNITIES OF ISABELLE

  THE INDISCRETIONS OF ISABELLE

  (writing as Cruella)

  Tie and Tease

  A Nexus Classic

  Penny Birch

  One

  MY ANAL RING gave, the plug popped inside and it had been done. I was a fox, or rather a vixen, with a long, swishy brush standing proudly over my bare bottom. The game was simple: if they caught me, they could do whatever they liked. I’d be made to suck cock, lick pussy, kiss bumholes. Certainly I’d be fucked, and if I knew them I was unlikely to get away without a cock up my bottom. I was going to be beaten too, first, they had assured me of that, stretched out and thrashed with riding-crops and birch twigs until my bottom was a real mess. There are other tortures a piece of spring woodland can provide: mud for my face, and worse, big, smooth stones for my pussy and bumhole, fresh young nettles for my boobs, gorse too, and holly. If they caught me I could expect all of that and more, whatever subtle and sadistic torment they could think up. I would probably be tied up by the end, in some awkward and vulnerable position, bringing my anguish to a peak. They had to catch me first, and I didn’t intend to make it easy. Well, not too easy: that would spoil my fun.

  I fixed the slender belt that held the tail around my tummy and stretched, feeling gloriously nude in the warm spring sunlight. Aside from my trainers and socks I had not a stitch on, while the great, thick brush added a lovely touch of erotic humiliation to my exposure. I was ready to run, and to judge by the way the others were looking at me, they were ready to chase. Amber was fingering her riding-crop, with her pretty face set in a wicked smile. Henry was rubbing his hands and looking at me as if inspecting a particularly fine sirloin of beef; Rasputin was by his leg, tongue lolling out and eyes peering from beneath shaggy brows. Vicky had one long leg up on a stump and was limbering up her muscles. Anderson was leaning on the car, cool and poised, idly fingering a vicious bone-handled whip. Ginny was head first in the car, her ample bottom straining her jodhpurs and wobbling slightly as she searched for something, presumably her whip.

  ‘Got it,’ she said and drew back, holding not just the heavy riding-crop I had expected, but something else: a fox’s mask.

  The sight of the thing sent a fresh tremor of anticipation through me. It was so well made it looked real, and as she took a tiny bottle from inside it I realised that it wasn’t going to hold on with just a piece of elastic, either. She passed both to Amber, whose smile grew broader.

  ‘Hold still, Penny,’ she ordered happily as she held the thing up to my face.

  I opened my mouth. I had to, because the interior of the thing held a ball that was clearly designed to go in it, gagging me. My body had started to shiver from the intensity of my feelings of exposure and humiliation, and I could feel the dampness between my thighs as I took the gag lightly in my teeth. I caught the scent of gum arabic as Amber unscrewed the bottle, and at greater strength as she began to paint the edge of the mask and then my face. It was done quickly and skilfully, the result of long experience at turning girls into ponies, pigs and whatever else fantasy demanded.

  Now it was a fox, with all the trappings of fox-hunting subtly changed to suit erotic fantasy in place of blood sport. As it had originally been my idea, I had the right to be the first victim, or rather quarry. Most of the other detail had come from the others, including the term ‘in at the rape’, which had terrified me but added so much raw emotion to the game that in the end I’d accepted it.

  It was just a game, but that didn’t stop my heart racing as I waited for the gum to dry. After all, the chase would be real, my pain would be real and the sex would be real. True, I expected a truly explosive orgasm at the end of it, but that didn’t stop me being scared, especially as I wasn’t entirely sure why Henry had brought his dog. The mask made it worse, and yet more real. Now I couldn’t speak, so there was no chance to use a stop word. Nor could I see very well, with the eye-holes limiting my vision much in the way of blinkers.

  ‘Ready to go, Penny?’ Amber asked as she took her hand away from the mask.

  I nodded, picturing my vixen’s face moving to the action.

  ‘Twenty minutes then,’ she said, ‘you had better run.’

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. I set off, with my brush tickling my bottom as I went, its motion drawing a giggle from Ginny.

  The wood was a fair size, ninety acres of mature oak and beech belonging to some horsey friend of Henry’s. Horsey, rich, respectable, and so seriously gay that he hadn’t even bothered to turn up to watch. With farmland on all sides the chances of us being seen were minimal. A single, overgrown footpath skirted the northern border, but it was easy to stay clear of th
at. The interior was a maze of gullies, thickets, ancient ditches and still more ancient earthworks, the ideal place for me to go to ground. That was what they expected, but it was not what I was going to do.

  I was fairly sure how they’d hunt. Vicky and Anderson were fast, and would act as wings, fanning out to the sides. Amber and Ginny, less athletic but young, would come forward inside them, leaving fat old Henry at the middle, along with Rasputin. That way they could chivvy me forward and close the pincers at the far edge of the wood where an area of open ground and a ruined barn provided gorse, nettles and all the other things they would need to bring my torture to the most exquisite peak. All of that was fine, except for the fact that they’d be too pleased with themselves to really take it out on me. Instead I wanted them sweaty, scratched and hot before they caught me, thus guaranteeing that they would really make me pay.

  So, rather than make for the sheltered depths of the wood, I ran until they were well out of sight and then turned north, towards the footpath, the one place they would expect me to avoid. My plan was simple. I would hide by the path until I heard one of the flankers coming, wait until they passed, then dash back down the footpath and into the wood behind them. Hopefully the manoeuvre would leave them completely puzzled and frustrated, ensuring that I got punished for my temerity when I finally allowed them to catch me.

  It went well at first, and would have worked if it hadn’t been for my brush. I found a thick stand of elder right beside the fence and hid in it, freezing to the ground when I heard someone coming. It was Anderson, jogging slowly along and scanning the woods. I stayed perfectly still, sure he would miss me among the thick green leaves. He looked right at me and kept on, only to stop abruptly as he drew level, no more than twenty yards from my hiding place. His face broke into a happy leer and I knew he had seen me, only he wasn’t looking at my face but behind me. That was what made me realise that my brush was sticking out of the bush.

  I bolted, breaking from cover at a run. He called a view and followed, whooping with joy as he came. Normally I would have stood at least a chance, being smaller and more agile than him. Now it was hopeless, with my bare skin, limited vision and the plug jerking in my bottom-hole making it impossible to get any real speed. I tried, though, jumping logs and dodging around trunks until finally I slipped in mud and went down, sprawling in the mess and slipping as I tried to rise, only for his hand to fasten in my hair, twist and pull my head back hard.

  As I was on my knees, the pressure forced me to curve my spine back and lift my bottom, an action that drew a satisfied chuckle from Anderson. I was really shaking, panting for breath around my gag with my heart hammering in my chest, needing what was about to be done to me but also genuinely scared. His grip tightened in my hair, forcing me to bring my bottom into greater prominence. My knees came apart of their own accord, spreading my pussy to him beneath the shelter of my brush.

  ‘Good little vixen,’ he crowed, ‘that’s right, stick it out and I’ll fill you, but not just yet. First you have some sucking to do, if it’s practical with your mask.’

  It wasn’t, which I could have told him if I’d been able to speak. With my mouth full of gag it was hard enough to breathe, never mind suck a penis. Vixens don’t talk anyway, so I just wriggled a bit as he pulled my head around to inspect the mouth.

  ‘Damn,’ he swore as his fingers caught at the mouth. ‘Oh well, in that case I’ll just have to put a couple of lines across your bottom to help me get ready.’

  A moment later I felt him take my brush. It was lifted and laid on my back, exposing the full spread of my rear view with nothing hidden, bottom-cheeks flared wide, pussy agape, anus showing with the shaft of the tail disappearing into the little hole. My stomach tightened and my bottom clenched as he gave a chuckle at the display I was making of myself. I heard him shift position and suddenly my buttocks jolted and a line of fire sprang up across then. My arms had gone limp at the shock, and at the second my breasts went into the mud, my muscles jumping at the pain as his crop lashed down on my naked bottom. A third stroke caught me and he laughed to see me as I kicked my legs and cocked my thighs wide in my pain. I collapsed, putting my belly in the mud as well as my boobs, to leave me grovelling in submission as he laid a fourth cut across the crests of my bum-cheeks.

  I’d have screamed if I’d been able, but all I could do was make a ridiculous gurgling noise in my throat. He stopped at four, leaving me sprawled in the mud, pathetically grateful to him as I lifted my bottom to offer myself. He gave his dry, wicked chuckle again and I heard the crop fall to the ground. Looking back, I found him pushing his jodhpurs down, taking his briefs with them to reveal a good-sized cock, already half-stiff.

  I lay still as he masturbated over my beaten bottom, his eyes fixed to the four red cuts he had put on my skin. They stung; my bottom was throbbing hard, my pussy wide and wet, while my anus was contracting over and over on the neck of the plug. He hardened quickly, his eyes never once leaving my bottom until his cock was a solid bar of glossy flesh, the head so shiny it might have been oiled. I went up a little, offering myself, knees wide and bottom lifted, surrendered to penetration. He came behind me in a squat, careful not to soil his jodhpurs on the dirty ground. That was perfect, with me beaten and filthy with mud, while he wasn’t even prepared to dirty his knees while he had me.

  His cock found the mouth of my pussy and he pulled me on to himself, filling me and spreading my thighs wide across his front. I swallowed on my gag as he began to fuck me, holding me by my hips and jerking me on to his cock. My brush was tickling my back, my whip marks smarting in the cool air, my boobs rubbing in the mess of mud and leaves: all perfect to take me so, so high. Soon the others would come, and I’d really be used, beaten again, and entered and teased and tortured until at last they let me come myself . . .

  No, it was no good. It hadn’t been long enough. I needed more of the excitement of being chased, the alarm and desperation, the fear as I was hunted, the final dismay as they caught me and dragged me down. I braced and hurled myself forward, kicking off from Anderson’s leg. He gave a startled cry, went backwards and I was gone, darting across the sunlit glade where he had been indulging himself with me.

  He must have fallen right into the mud puddle, because I heard him curse, and I was laughing inside as I skipped between two massive beeches and away. I’d taken him completely by surprise, leaping up while he’d been lost in the feeling of having his cock in me. Doubtless he’d imagined me already beaten into submission, and had been enjoying his dominance and the sight of the whip-stripes on my naked buttocks as much as the physical pleasure of fucking me. Now he was sat in a mud puddle with his erection sticking up in the air, rigid in his frustrated lust.

  I nearly collided with Ginny, dodging just in time as she grabbed for me. She had seemed to come from nowhere, and the shock brought me back to earth. With her startled yell ringing in my ears I ran on, rushing through dappled sunlight as her view calls rang out behind me. Others answered: Henry’s deep roar to the south, Amber’s and Vicky’s from much further. Ginny yelled again, close on my heels, then Anderson, now well behind me.

  Anderson might have been too fast for me, but no girl with a figure like Ginny’s was going to catch me: she has just too much flesh. I sprinted, my eyes fixed dead ahead, forcing myself to ignore the stabbing pain of the plug in my rectum. Her calls had been full of glee and pleasure in the chase, but as they changed to frustration I knew I had the edge on her.

  Not that it meant I’d got away, as I knew Vicky would be coming as fast as she could, and against her I had no chance at all. If I kept running they would just herd me into the tip of the wood, exactly where they wanted me, gorse, nettles and all.

  At the thought of having my pussy tickled with nettles I hurled myself to the side, crashing through a stand of birch and undergrowth. Twigs whipped at my breasts and tummy; stems caught at my legs, but then I was through, only to feel a smarting throb start on my thighs and pussy. I had run into exa
ctly what I was trying to avoid, nettling my sex without them having to bother. My nettle stings hurt, and lent me new energy as I imagined what it was going to be like when they finally caught me.

  They wouldn’t just whip me with nettles. They’d spread me out, one to each limb, with my legs wide and my breasts and sex completely vulnerable. They’d each take a nettle and work me over, tickling my nipples and pussy, the tender skin of my breasts and the sensitive area under the tuck of my bottom. If they were feeling really cruel they would even do the centre of my pussy and my bumhole, which would probably be enough to make me come, although I’d writhe and scream while it was happening.

  Ginny had cried gone away as I went through the brake, but she hadn’t followed. For a moment I was invisible to her and I used my chance, turning back to the north and running low beneath the overhanging birches and hazels. A twig lashed across my breasts, leaving a line of fire, then another, lower, across my tummy. I heard Anderson call from some way off to my left and Vicky answered, already to my right.

  At that, and with the pain in my body, I panicked. How she had come up so fast I could not understand, but it seemed barely human. I ran full tilt, indifferent to branches, scratched by holly, stung by nettles, tearing blindly through the wood with my head full of visions of my own torture. Henry’s phrase came to me, and the piece of fox-hunting parlance he had changed it from – in at the death, in at the rape.

  With that all sense, all reason went and I was running blind through the wood in true fright. Their calls seemed to be coming from all around me, five human voices and Rasputin’s bass bark, and with that what had been just a dirty thought became certainty. They would give me to the dog. They’d hold me down and let Rasputin mount me. They’d let him fuck me and he’d knot in my pussy. They’d tease my boobs and tickle my pussy while he was inside me. They’d make me masturbate and they’d take photos of him humping me, of when he came, of when I came . . .