Uniform Doll Page 2

  I just stared. I knew he liked girls’ bottoms and spanked them if he could, but to actually see evidence of it was something else, especially with the uniforms there. It was genuine as well, because in both cases I could pick out little marks that left no doubt that the uniform in the photo was the same one as worn by the mannequin. He’d always enjoyed his stories, and I knew that in his room there was a drawer of girls’ panties donated by various girlfriends across the years, or just stolen. This was different.

  Naturally I had to ask. As soon as a decent interval had elapsed I went downstairs, finding him chopping shallots, a glass of red wine by his side. If he had wanked himself off there was no evidence of it, not even a tissue in the bin, which he usually left, just to show that my story had done its job. Feeling ever so slightly put out, I asked him about the uniforms.

  ‘Ah ha, so you have seen my collection,’ he said. ‘If two items warrant the title of a collection.’

  ‘A collection?’

  ‘Just that. The start of one anyway.’

  ‘So who are the girls? Are you collecting female uniforms? What happened? Did you pinch their clothes?’

  ‘Please, Jade, dear, a question at a time! To answer the simplest question first, yes, I am collecting female uniforms, or rather I intend to do so. I think I need four or five to really call it a collection . . .’

  ‘But what happened?’ I interrupted.

  ‘Patience.’ He laughed. ‘I will tell you over dinner.’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Very well, since you insist, but don’t interrupt. You saw the two, the waitress and the Air Delhi stewardess?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The waitress was the first. It was some years ago, in a motel outside Boston. It started normally enough, with the girl, Sally, fascinated by my accent and manners, which is a not uncommon occurrence in the States. She was half my age, so naturally I was flattered, and did my best to talk her into bed. Not that it was difficult. She was as keen as I, and kept saying she’d heard the English were kinky, and asking if it was true. Well, no girl teases me like that and gets away with it, so I took her back to my room and spanked her bottom for her, bare, over the knee, in the best English style.’

  ‘I saw the photo. She doesn’t look too happy about it.’

  ‘She wasn’t. There was a bit of a misunderstanding there, you see. She thought I’d want it done to me, and was a bit shocked when I put her over for fifty hard ones on the bare. She really howled, as it goes, but I didn’t see why I should stop, not when she’d wanted to do the same to me. Anyway, she was fine once her bum was warm, and I let her use a hairbrush on me, just to even things up. After that we had a fine time.’

  ‘I bet you did!’

  ‘Without doubt. I particularly remember her riding me, with her back towards me and her reddened bottom stuck out. A fine view. Anyway, she had come over to my room after leaving work, with her ordinary clothes in a bag. In the morning we woke late, and she was in a rush, and forgot her uniform. I suppose she must have realised and come back quickly enough, but by then I was gone, with the uniform – her bra and panties too.’

  ‘You stole them! You bastard!’

  ‘Mea culpa. I couldn’t resist it. You know I like my trophies, and I had asked if I could keep her knickers. She had a spare pair, a bra too, and – well, I decided to take the lot.’

  ‘Poor girl! I mean, you spank her bottom for her when she’s not expecting it and, if that isn’t bad enough, you pinch her clothes!’

  ‘You make it sound as if I left her naked in the street! All part of the rough and tumble of life, my dear, nothing more.’

  I gave him a disapproving tut and poured myself a glass of the red wine. Not that I approved of what he’d done, but it was impossible not to feel a thrill. It had been naughty, like going without panties – like having sex with other girls for that matter. Just listening had left me flushed, and I could feel the prickling sensation across my chest and face. Rupert saw, and chuckled.

  He began to cook, all the while smiling to himself in a self-satisfied way. I sipped wine, waiting impatiently for him to tell me about the other girl, and knowing that if I tried to hurry him it would only make him tease me. He didn’t even start when we were seated at the table, each with a plate of the complicated pasta dish he’d been making in front of us. We ate and drank, one bottle, then another, and it was when he had that open and our glasses full that he began.

  ‘It was after my air hostess that I decided to start collecting,’ he began. ‘That was last week, somewhere called Jammu, right up towards the mountains. The aircraft was stranded overnight, so the crew had to stay over. I imagine they had some sort of accommodation arranged, but by then I’d already persuaded my little Induma to accept my hospitality. Her name, Induma, means moon, and does she have one, so round, so feminine. But you saw?’

  ‘I saw the photo, yes, with her holding her knickers down to show off her bum. It’s really smutty, the sort of rude photo the boys used to show round at school.’

  ‘And why not? A pushed out, bare female bottom speaks directly to the male libido. But you agree she has a beautiful bottom?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Undoubtedly, and she knew it. It was by a combination of flattery and bribery that I talked her into taking her knickers down. In a secluded spot in the hotel garden, by the way. She let me have a feel too, and I’d have had her there if she’d let me. Spanked then fucked, bent over that stone bench in the picture.’

  ‘Lecherous old goat! How old was she?’

  ‘It’s very impolite to ask a lady’s age.’

  ‘Oh, right, but it’s fine to pull down her knickers and spank her on the bare bottom?’

  ‘Naturally. True ladies seldom resent a spanking. It is in the female nature.’

  ‘Uncle Rupert! I thought you were a liberal, not a chauvinist pig!’

  ‘I am a liberal. That doesn’t alter the fact that to receive a spanking is very much part of a woman’s nature. But I know your views. Let us not argue the point. Induma did not share them in any case, taking the attitude that she should do her best to please her man, and that if that included having her delectable bottom spanked, then she was prepared to accept it.’

  ‘So she wasn’t actually into spanking?’

  ‘Patience, patience, let me explain. After taking the photo in the garden, I steered her politely but firmly to my room. There I explained that I intended to spank her as a prelude to sex. She was nervous, and giggled a lot, but she accepted it, including keeping her uniform on for the performance.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a uniform fetish.’

  ‘I don’t, and I hate that word. A sexual fetish is something that has become inextricably linked with sex, an object or practice without which pleasure is impossible. That is a sorry state to get into, very sorry indeed. I like uniforms, yes, they enhance a woman’s body, and add a nice touch when undressing her, a rude touch, as if to cock a snook at whatever authority the uniform represents. This is an important element of my desire to collect, but I shall come back to that later.’

  ‘Yes. Tell me what you did to poor Induma, you dirty old goat.’

  ‘What did I do to her? I indulged myself, to the full, that’s what I did. I sat myself in a convenient chair, and took her down across my knee, with that divine little peach stuck high and her thighs well parted. I then prepared her. First, I undid the buttons at the front of her uniform dress and pulled out her breasts, which I often think is good for a woman being spanked.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To take away her modesty, as if you didn’t know. Bare breasts are important for a punished woman, if less so than a bare bottom. Never, ever, let a girl keep her knickers up during a spanking, let alone anything else. Covering allows her to retain a measure of pride that no amount of beating will erase, even with a cane or tawse. No, pull them down, and let her know her fanny is on show to the world.’

  ‘You really are terrible!’
>
  ‘Induma didn’t seem to think so. She was quite happy with it, giggling as I pulled her titties out and had a good feel of each, even when I tugged up her uniform skirt and pulled down her panties. No, it was the actual spanking she couldn’t handle.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. Well, you see, I hadn’t been entirely honest with her, and what with her English, or rather lack of it . . . She expected her body exposed, yes, and to be fondled, maybe to have her buttocks patted. I don’t think she actually expected it to hurt.’

  ‘But you did it anyway, didn’t you?’

  ‘I did, I’m afraid, quite hard. She liked it at first, with me stroking her bum and playing pat-a-cake on her bottom-cheeks. That had her giggling, and I suppose she thought that was all there was to it. She was even sticking her bum up, and when I saw those glorious dusky cheeks pull apart and got my first whiff of her sex, well, I just couldn’t hold back. I took her around her waist, which was tiny, and cocked up my knee, making her bottom come fully open. I could see her fanny-lips like that, brown and smooth, the sweetest little purse, her bottom hole too. She had a pretty bottom hole, the same milky coffee as her skin, not even a tone darker, but quite fleshy, like a pursed mouth.’

  ‘You didn’t bugger her, did you?’

  ‘Patience, Jade, patience. So there she was, her long black hair spread out over the floor, her glorious titties hanging out of her dress, her silk panties halfway down her legs, her divine bottom stuck up in the nude. So I spanked her properly.’

  ‘And she didn’t expect it? Did she cry?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She absolutely howled. She was in tears almost from the first smack, as soon as she realised that I wasn’t going to stop. I do spank hard, it’s the best way, and, of course, I couldn’t stop, because I had to get her over the pain barrier. Not that she understood that, of course, and I could hardly explain. So I just let her howl, and I think it was as much frustration as pain. That’s often the way, when they really make a fuss. She certainly did, kicking like anything, until her knickers fell off. That let her get her legs wider apart, and I could really smell her sex, which was as wet as anything. I was ready for her too, with my cock rock hard against her tummy. She must have been able to feel it, and she knew full well where it was going.’

  ‘You can be such a bastard.’

  ‘No. It was for her own good. Partially at any rate. It took about five minutes of hard spanking to get her ready, but by then she’d stopped blubbering and was breathing really deeply. Her legs were cocked wide open, and she was sticking her bottom up again, and mumbling in her language. I gave her another fifty for luck, mainly on her sweet spot, to see if I could make her come. She didn’t, but she scrambled onto the bed quickly enough when I let her go.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Why, I fucked her, of course. From the rear first, so that I could stroke her little smacked cheeks while I was up her, and tickle her bumhole.’

  ‘That would have sent me through the roof!’

  ‘She liked it. It seemed to get her really urgent. She wanted to touch too, to feel her smacked cheeks, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had been done to her, or how good it felt.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’

  ‘She kept doing that, all the while as I put her through her paces, except when she was on her back, of course, then she’d feel her titties. She never said a word, all the time, not in English anyway, just doing as she was told, one position after another, and sucking my cock in between. Before long she’d started to get eager, adopting her own poses, and dirty too, rubbing at herself while I fucked her, with one finger on her bottom hole. That was her favourite, lying on her side with one leg cocked up, so that I could get into her and she could touch herself front and back. She came like that, and she made nearly as much noise as she had during the spanking. By then she had a finger up her bottom, deep in. I’d nearly come when she did, but I didn’t want to risk her getting pregnant, so I’d held back. After I saw that her finger was up her bum I just couldn’t hold back any longer.’

  ‘You came up her pussy?’

  ‘No. That’s when I buggered her.’

  ‘You utter bastard. Tell me.’

  ‘She pulled her finger out when she’d come. I withdrew and she rolled over onto her front, sticking her bottom up. She was looking back, smiling, with that perfect coffee-brown moon lifted to me, the cheeks flushed dark from her spanking, her bottom hole moist and a little open, the ring still pulsing a little from her orgasm. I think she wanted me to put my cock back up, and it was tempting, with her fanny puffy and wet with juice, the hole so open that I could see up her. I think I would have, only she reached back to take hold of her smacked cheeks, clutching them and pulling them apart. That made her bottom hole stretch, and, well, I couldn’t resist it. So I got on her, and put my cock between her cheeks, to her anus. She gasped when she felt where it was going, and said something, but I don’t know what.’

  ‘Probably calling you a dirty bastard.’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, she took it well enough, just grunting a little and making these odd little mewing noises as I pushed the head of my cock in up her hole. She was tight, but pretty moist where juice had run down from her fanny, so I got up easily enough, right in. I could feel my pubic hair between her bottom-cheeks and my balls were lying on her fanny. She was moaning by then, and had a hand under her tummy to frig with. I took my time, holding her by her tits and just keeping my erection firm up her bottom, until she started to come. I felt her ring go tight, and with that I really jammed it in, clutching her to me as I buggered her, with her hole clamping on my cock, until I did it up her, while she was still coming.’

  ‘That’s enough. I need the garden.’

  I just ran. It was too much for me, the whole thing, what Sam had done to me, then Rupert with his dirty stories. I needed to masturbate, and I needed to do it in my special place. He chuckled as I fled the room, knowing perfectly well where I was going, and what I was going to do. Not that he was any better, as the last thing I heard as I went was the sound of his zip being pulled down.

  My head was spinning with wine, or maybe I’d have thought twice about what I did. As it was, I just needed my clothes off, to feel the cool night air on my body. I stripped then and there, on the back step, naked, peeling off my top and bra, pushing down my jeans and taking my panties with them. Of course I had to sit my bare bum down on the rough concrete to get my boots off, but that just added to my delicious feelings of exposure.

  Stark naked, I ran down the garden to the hammock. I climbed in, settling the rug beneath me, but with my bum against the rope so that I could feel the mesh pulled tight into my flesh. My thighs came wide, one over each side, and I was spread, my sex agape to the night, wide and wet. Wet was right, soaking, so that I managed to slide three fingers straight in. They went to my mouth, so that I could taste myself while I did it, then back.

  I began to rub, flicking at my clitty and one nipple as the rude thoughts ran through my head – of exposure and punishment. I thought of having my bra ruined so that Sam could show how big my boobs were to the girls in the bar. I thought of the girls Rupert had held down across his knee, shivering in their humiliation, their bottoms bare, their bottoms spanked. Not just spanked either, but spanked and then fucked, spanked and then buggered in the case of the poor stewardess.

  Men are so filthy, so crude, putting their cocks up girls’ bottom holes, where the shit comes out, and they just don’t care, so long as it’s hot and tight and feels good on their gross cocks. Rupert had buggered In-duma, spanked her and then buggered her, with his cock up her bottom hole, in her rectum, in her dirt box. He wasn’t even ashamed of it. He was proud. He was pleased with himself, pleased that he’d seduced some hapless girl into sex, spanked her until she cried, fucked her until she was too high to hold herself back, then buggered her.

  That was too much for me, just the thought of a man’s penis going up a girl’s bottom hole. Cocks are ugly, really gro
ss, and what men want us to do with them is just so filthy. Not fucking, so much, but sucking, in our mouths, till they spunk and force us to swallow their disgusting sperm. Worse, up our bums, deep up our nice, clean little holes, in and out, until we’re not clean any more, until I’m not clean any more.

  Not clean no, anything but, slimy and sweaty and dirty, soiled, with a big, fat cock stuck up my dirt box and a fat, hairy belly slapping at my bottom. It would happen one day, I just knew it. Some bastard wouldn’t accept my preference for girls. They’d push, teasing me into experimenting, into taking their ugly great cock in my hand, in my mouth, up my pussy, and at last, up my bottom hole, and that’s where they’d come.

  Which was what I had done, crying out my ecstasy softly to the night, naked, wet with sweat, my body shaking with reaction to my filthy fantasy.

  Not that I was ever, ever going to admit to getting off over fantasies of being buggered by men, much less let it happen. That was private, from everybody.

  After I’d come I went back indoors, feeling rather embarrassed, and he explained about his uniform collection. The morning after sleeping with Induma, he had tried to explain that he wanted her panties as a trophy. She hadn’t really understood, partly because they were something she only wore with her European-style hostess uniform anyway. Instead she had thought he had wanted the whole uniform, a misunderstanding that had sparked the idea in Uncle Rupert’s head. She had been reluctant to give it up, not surprisingly, but in the end had sold it to him and pretended she’d been robbed when she got back to the aeroplane.

  So Rupert had his uniform and, by the time he’d returned to the UK, he had the whole thing worked out. It was typically obsessive, and typically male, with rules and everything, just as if he’d been collecting rare pieces of china or old paintings. The most important one was that the uniform had to be genuine. It had to represent some form of institution or business for which the woman worked, or belonged to, or had done. Theatrical wear, or buying something and dressing a girlfriend up in it, definitely did not count. There had to be a photograph too, of the woman wearing the uniform, and at the least in a cheeky pose, preferably an actively rude one. If necessary he could pay for the uniform, but the women weren’t allowed to know what was going on. It had to include her underwear too.