Butter Wouldn't Melt Read online

  I nearly choked on the water I was drinking.

  ‘But Mr Prufrock, they’re the only pair I’ve got with me.’

  ‘You’ve gone home bare under your skirt before now,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I know, but . . .’

  ‘Come, come, Pippa. What did we say about young ladies and little favours?’

  ‘Yes, but wetting my knickers! Please, Mr Prufrock . . .’

  He wagged a finger at me.

  ‘Come along, Pippa, if you want your little treat.’

  I threw my hands up in the air. He genuinely seemed to think that he was doing me a favour by masturbating me and not the other way around; either that or he was a brilliant actor and assumed that both of us were playing our roles in a perverted game. If the latter, then I was playing a deeper game than he suspected, and the important thing was to bring it to a successful conclusion.

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘if it will help you, I’ll do it in my knickers.’

  ‘Good girl,’ he breathed. ‘Now drink up, and off with your clothes.’

  I took another swallow of water, then began to strip, trying not to look too sulky as I peeled off my clothes. It was a hot day and I’d been running around like a mad woman, so I already needed a shower. Once I’d wet myself it would be worse, because the pee was sure to soak in up over my bottom and pussy.

  ‘Back to work,’ he said as I hung my clothes up, ‘and keep drinking.’

  He handed me the water bottle, which I accepted, taking the occasional swig as I went back to my filing. I felt hot and sticky, particularly down my panties, because I was soaking wet and as ready for penetration as I’d ever been. Even the thought of his fingers loitering over my bottom and easing into my holes was exciting, but that was the one thing I wasn’t likely to get, not once we’d been caught.

  I began to wonder what would happen afterwards, and the consequences if it became public knowledge. It was very likely I’d end up having to explain everything to Mr Montague in order to prevent Mr Prufrock getting the sack, or worse. I’d certainly have to admit I’d been willing, or the police might be called in, which would be disastrous.

  Suddenly the entire scheme seemed insane, and utterly unfair of me, but I told myself that whatever the consequences, Mr Prufrock had only brought it on himself with his behaviour. It was true, but it didn’t seem right, not when he’d given me so much pleasure, and looking back, there was no denying the excitement I’d got out of our arrangement. Maggie was right, I was a slut, and not just for other girls.

  I’d soon finished the first litre of water and started on the second, all the while still agonising over what I was doing. Only two things kept me from abandoning the entire thing – the thought of how badly I needed the money I would win, and because to give up meant that I genuinely was Mr Prufrock’s pet tart.

  With the second bottle half empty my tummy was bulging so badly I looked as if I was pregnant, while my bladder had begun to ache. I was also heavily aroused, with a multitude of dirty thoughts coursing through my head and that same delicious sense of erotic helplessness I get when I’m being held firmly across a bigger woman’s knees. Now was the point of no return, because once I’d sent Clive his text that would be that.

  Still I hesitated, but the ache in my bladder was beginning to grow to pain and I was having to wriggle my toes to stop myself from doing it all in my panties by accident instead of on purpose. At last I gave in, telling Mr Prufrock I needed to send a message to ask AJ to bring some clean panties and instead typing in the ‘OK’ Clive and I had agreed on as a signal. The moment it had gone I spoke up.

  ‘I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Mr Prufrock. We’d better go into the back.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘I want you to hold on as long as possible, until you have a real accident.’

  ‘I think I will, soon,’ I told him, fighting back the urge to call him a filthy, sadistic bastard.

  He was that, and more, grinning as I winced with pain and my hand went to my tummy.

  ‘Please just let me do it,’ I urged. ‘I thought you wanted to see it come out?’

  ‘I’ve seen you pee,’ he insisted, ‘now I want to watch you have a genuine accident.’

  ‘Come into the back anyway,’ I suggested. ‘You said not to do it on the floor.’

  ‘Ah, but I have plans,’ he said, and winked. ‘You’re going to mop it up, still in your wet panties.’

  I made a face, thinking how I’d look, crawling on the floor with nothing on but a pair of pee-soaked knickers, the sodden material clinging to my bum cheeks and pussy, mopping up my own puddle. It would be soon too. The pain had begun to come in waves, to leave me holding my tummy and treading up and down, before fading, only to rise once more.

  ‘Please come in the back,’ I begged. ‘Please? My tummy hurts . . .’

  ‘Then let go,’ he suggested.

  I was gasping as the pain hit its peak. It was hopeless, I really couldn’t hold it, but somehow I couldn’t just let go either. After a moment the pain receded again, only to come back, stronger than ever, leaving me sobbing badly with my poor tummy clutched in both hands. Once again the pain faded, but no more than a little while an altogether different sensation had begun to creep up on me too, and I knew that with the next peak I’d have to let go, or risk doing something infinitely worse than wetting my panties.

  ‘I can’t . . . I just can’t!’ I sobbed, and my nerve had gone completely.

  Panic overwhelmed me at the thought of what I was about to do. I snatched at my clothes and dashed for the door, praying Clive had managed to unlock it. He had, and I was through, hurling myself up the stairs and into the Ladies with a desperate hope that nobody would be in the back corridor, or the loos. They weren’t, and I made the stall, a moment too late, a sense of utter hopelessness swamping me even as I lifted the seat and the next instant was pissing in my panties.

  I slumped down on the lavatory, sobbing in exhaustion and despair as it all came out, hissing and bubbling into my panties, soaking up over pussy and between the cheeks of my bum. My back was to the cistern, my eyes closed, and as my pee dribbled through the seat of my knickers into the bowl below I could feel the tension draining out of my body. I knew I was going to do it, my resistance gone along with every last spark of modesty or decency or self-restraint.

  My bumhole had started to open and I didn’t even try to stop myself, or bother to push my knickers down. I just let it come, one fat piece squeezing out between my cheeks and into my panty pouch, cutting off as my bumhole closed, only for a second to follow, bigger and heavier still. My panties began to sag, swelling under my bottom as they filled, to pull my wet gusset against my cunt, with my pee still bubbling out through the cotton and dribbling from the bulge now hanging beneath me.

  I’d done it in my panties, not just pee but everything, and I didn’t want to stop. My bumhole had begun to come open again and I just let it, groaning aloud as a third log joined the two already hanging in my knickers. I could feel more inside, and now pushed on purpose, squeezing it out until my load was so fat and so heavy it had begun to pull my knickers down at the back.

  At last I’d finished, my bumhole closing on the final piece, which stayed wedged between my cheeks, and for a long moment I just lay back, sobbing and shivering in reaction to my plight. I was well and truly soiled, my pretty pink and white panties bulging heavy with my own dirt, my bottom cheeks filthy, and utterly ashamed of myself too, but I had to come.

  My hand slipped down my panties, between the pee-soaked cotton and my flesh, over the low bulge of my pussy mound and between my lips. As I began to rub I tried to do more, squeezing to make my hole open and bring back that exquisite sensation of utter hopelessness, knowing I was going to do it and that there was nothing whatsoever I could do to stop it, only this time I wasn’t going to soil myself, I was going to masturbate.

  I could no more hold back the urge than I’d been able to hold back my mess. My legs came wide and I began to wrigg
le my bum, enjoying the heavy, soggy feeling in my panties where they hung down over the bowl. I found my clit, circling her and flicking at her as my feelings rose, higher and higher still, until I was having to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming, right on the very edge, and over as I went into a shuddering, gasping orgasm that left me limp and shaking.

  The scheme had failed miserably, and entirely thanks to Mr Prufrock’s filthy expectations. As soon as I came down from my orgasm I cleaned up and dressed, in a state of utter panic for fear of somebody coming in. I nipped out at the back to dispose of my soiled panties in the bins belonging to a nearby Indian restaurant, and returned, just in time to meet Mark himself at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement.

  I simply couldn’t face a replay on the Thursday. Also, I was worried that Mr Prufrock might have realised something was going on because of the door being open when he’d locked it, but when I saw him on the Friday he didn’t mention it, and was even apologetic for pushing me too far. Claire was searching through the archives at the time, and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything had I felt capable.

  AJ was having a butch only party at the Pumps that night, which almost certainly meant tormenting some femme just as they had done with me. I had to get home eventually, but if she was out having fun I didn’t see why I shouldn’t be too. Clive and I needed to rethink our tactics as well, so when he sent me a text suggesting dinner at his flat I accepted without hesitation.

  I knew my knickers would be coming down, and probably his cock going in my mouth, but found myself facing the prospect with as much excitement as shame. He was a good cook too, and put together a delicious and exotic stir fry while I sat back and sipped wine. A second bottle helped to wash down the dinner, and by the end I was feeling both drunk and horny, so that when he finally found the courage to ask what had gone wrong on Wednesday I was giggling as I replied.

  ‘The dirty old bastard wanted me to wet myself, that’s what. He’d already made me pee in front of him, and then he expected me to do it in my knickers while he watched.’

  ‘That’s appalling!’ Clive answered, but his eyes told a different story.

  I burst out laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he asked.

  ‘You,’ I said. ‘You’re really sweet, Clive, because you mean it about Mr Prufrock being appalling, but you would love to watch me pee, wouldn’t you?’

  He’d gone scarlet, and began to babble half-coherent denials, making me laugh all the more. It was a fun idea too, because he’d be so shocked and so turned on all at once, while to do it in front of him would help me to exorcise some of the images I’d had running through my head ever since my accident.

  I stood up, swallowed the rest of my glass of wine and beckoned him with one finger. He just stared at first, but when I began to walk towards the bathroom with a very deliberate wiggle of my hips he followed quickly enough. I beckoned again as I reached the door, looking back over my shoulder and crooking my finger. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t seem capable of forming words, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, a reaction that only encouraged me.

  The loo was a big, white porcelain affair standing out from the middle of one wall as if it were a throne. I’d meant to sit down, but I knew how excited he got over my bum and decided on a much ruder pose. Straddling the loo, I rucked up my office skirt, again looking back over my shoulder as I showed him my knickers.

  ‘In my panties?’ I offered. ‘Or bare?’

  His goldfish imitation only grew more pronounced, and I shrugged.

  ‘Both?’ I asked, and he nodded.

  I was giggling as I stuck my bottom out and braced my legs either side of the loo, making my cheeks as round as possible in my panties, with the gusset pulled taut to pussy and on full show. Clive moved a little to improve his view and I steadied myself on the wall, feeling deliciously naughty as I forced myself to relax. A little squeeze and it had begun to come, soaking into my panties and through, to bubble out from the cotton in a rude little fountain.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Clive sighed, ‘you’ve really done it, oh Pippa, you little angel.’

  ‘Do angels piss their panties?’ I answered him. ‘I don’t think so, and they definitely don’t let boys watch.’

  My panties were getting extremely wet, with the pee trickling down the front to run from my pussy mound and patter into the lavatory bowl beneath me. Some of it had begun to soak up over my bottom too, gluing my knickers to my skin as it spread slowly across my cheeks. It felt warm and wet and lovely, so good I’d have happily put my fingers back and brought myself off through my wet knickers, but I had promised more.

  ‘Watch this,’ I told him, and squeezed hard to cut off the flow of pee.

  Reaching back, I eased my knickers down, nice and slowly to give him a good show of my bare wet bum, until they were stretched taut, soggy and dripping between my open thighs.

  ‘Can you see everything?’ I asked.

  He nodded, and I let go, pee squirting from my pussy, only not into the toilet as I’d intended, but all over the floor. I just started giggling, and didn’t even try to hold back, delighting in my own dirty behaviour. There was plenty of it too, making a big, pale gold puddle on the tiles before the stream began to die, the last of it dripping into my already sodden knickers before I gave myself a little wiggle to shake the last drops free.

  ‘That was good,’ I sighed, ‘and don’t worry about your floor. I’ll mop it up.’

  ‘No, really . . .,’ he began.

  ‘I want to,’ I interrupted, ‘and I want to do it with my own knickers, while you watch. You can play with your cock too, if you like?’

  He did, and he had it out before I’d even stood up. I wanted to do it in the nude, and didn’t dare risk soiling my office suit anyway, so I stripped off, stark naked, before I got down on my knees and began to mop up my puddle. Clive watched me work, tugging at his rapidly expanding cock, and he was erect before I was half done.

  It wasn’t easy, because my knickers were already sodden, and I had to wring them out over the loo again and again. Not that I cared, because it was utterly, exquisitely humiliating, and it was making me ever more horny, and ever more eager to be put to the big cock now being masturbated over my naked body as I crawled in my own piss.

  He looked fit to burst by the time I was done, and I was creamy and so ready that if he’d just taken me on the floor I’d have surrendered without any fight at all. Being Clive, he didn’t, but stood there uncertainly as I used a little water and loo paper to clean up the last of my puddle and wipe myself. Finished, I knelt up and opened my mouth, inviting him to stick his cock in, which he did.

  I let my thighs come wide as I sucked, my hand between them, masturbating lazily as I enjoyed the taste and feel of his erection. Again I knew I could come, and easily, but I wanted more. I suppose every woman knows when the time has come, and mine was now, even if it was a world away from how I’d imagined it. Slipping his cock from my mouth and into my hand, I looked up at Clive.

  ‘I want you to fuck me,’ I told him. ‘Right now.’

  He swallowed and nodded. I was going to get it, a lovely big cock right up my pussy, and I wanted to make it as memorable as possible, and as dirty. Scrambling around, I braced myself against the lavatory bowl and let my knees slip wide, showing off my naked, virgin pussy to the man about to penetrate me for the very first time. I’d split my hymen long ago, an inevitable consequence of riding, but no man had ever had his cock inside me. Now it was going to happen. Clive got down, his cock in his hand, brandishing it at my open cunt as he spoke.

  ‘Are you sure, Pippa?’

  ‘Just fuck me! I don’t want to be a virgin any more.’

  I pulled my back in, making myself as available as I possibly could as he shuffled forward, my cheeks spread wide to show off my bumhole and the slippery wet target I was so eager for him to hit. His cock touched, round and firm and meaty, spreading my little hole, pushing inside, and
up, filling me until he seemed to be inside right up to the top of my head, and I was being fucked.

  For the first time in my life I had a man’s cock inside me, and it felt wonderful, pumping in and out of my hole to set me gasping, and I wanted more, far more, to be fucked until I screamed and fucked until I came and fucked until I fainted. My hand was already back, rubbing at my juicy, cock-filled cunt, my fingers slipping against my slimy flesh and bumping on the fat shaft in my hole. I was coming immediately, my pussy squeezing on Clive’s cock as I gasped and shook in my ecstasy, utterly given over to pleasure and more than happy to have him spunk up inside me.

  Only as my orgasm faded did the risk I was taking sink in, and I quickly pushed him back. His cock slipped free and I slumped panting over the lavatory bowl, babbling my thanks as he began to wank over my upturned bottom. I smiled and held my dirty pose despite my already aching knees, happy to take his spunk on my cheeks in return for what he’d given me.

  He grinned back and moved a little closer, to rub his cock on my bottom, and between my cheeks. I stuck my hips up higher still, making a cock-slide of my bottom crease and giggling as began to rub in it, only to squeak as his helmet touched my anus. He grunted, and I thought he’d come over my bumhole, a thought that sent a shiver right through me.

  ‘I would love to sodomise you,’ he sighed, ‘you’ve such a beautiful bottom, and I’ve never . . . never ever . . .’

  His words broke to a sob and again I thought he’d spunked up over my anus, but again he pulled back, rubbing himself in my slit once more. My ring had begun to twitch for what he’d said, the dirty thoughts were crowding in, imagining the same cock I’d just had put in my virgin pussy also stuffed up my bottom. It was filthy, gloriously filthy, and there was no denying I wanted it, and that soon enough I’d get it anyway.

  What if I got carried away and let Lucius Todmorden have me at Morris’s party? He’d bugger me without a second thought, and then I’d be just one more in a long line of girls who’d had their bottoms fucked by him, and some of them as virgins. With Clive it would be his first time as well as mine, a far better, far more dignified surrender, if allowing a man to insert his penis in your rectum can ever be considered even remotely dignified. Clive would be patient with me too, and didn’t mind playing with my bumhole in front of me.