Bad Girls

BAD GIRLS

by

BROOKE STERN

Bad Girls first published in 2005 by

Chimera Books Ltd

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Digital edition converted and published by

Andrews UK Limited 2010

www.andrewsuk.com

Copyright © Brooke Stern

The right of Brooke Stern to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

This novel is fiction – in real life practice safe sex

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

I sat down on a fallen tree and told her to lie across my lap. It was impossibly awkward, but she managed it anyway. I raised my hand above my head and spanked her. It wasn't hard, not nearly as hard as I could, but I still spanked her. It was loud and I was terrified someone might hear. She let out a giggle. It was probably because she was nervous, but I worried she was laughing at me, so I spanked her again, harder this time because she'd giggled. I alternated cheeks – oh, miraculous cheeks – with each spank, watching my red handprints appear, confirming that I was actually doing it…

Anne and David had just finished having sex, David thrusting hard into Anne's petite body and then collapsing onto her, out of breath and sweaty from an effort that did him credit. Above average, Anne thought. Anne's sample was statistically significant; it equaled forty-something now.

After several awkward minutes spent pinned under David, Anne wondered if he was going to roll off her before he fell asleep. Previously so comfortable with her body (she had just minutes ago been shamelessly grinding her pelvis into him in hopes that his cock would hit her g-spot), she was becoming uncomfortable in the stillness. She reached around David's inert body to pull the bedspread up over them. She never knew what to do afterwards. When the thrill was over, what was left? Did she even know how to deal with men as anything other than a thrill?

Finally, when her foot was going to sleep and his cock had shrunk and slipped out, she tipped him off her. He groaned a little and snuggled up next to her. What a sweetheart, she thought. Men were rarely so cuddly. She had to wriggle out of his embrace to reach for the tissue box on the bedside table. She grabbed a handful and stuffed them between her legs to stem the flow of his come.

At the hotel bar where they'd met she told him that she never did this kind of thing. He had echoed the sentiment. Had he been lying, too? Did he do this all the time? How did she rate? She should have made him wear a condom.

The anxieties always got the best of her afterwards. She never got used to it. As long as she could remember, Anne had been someone who gave sex away. It was her way of taking matters into her own hands. She wouldn't let the doubts and insecurities get the best of her. No, she would get what she wanted. At least that's what she told herself.

But it was a lie. She never really got what she wanted. Or, more precisely, she never really had the single experience she always thought about having. She never re-enacted the origin of her erotic life, the act that had been seared into her mind before she'd had any choice in the matter. It had been the cause of everything else, the first cause. She couldn't be certain, but she would swear that she hadn't had a single orgasm that didn't return her to it.

For a long time she had been convinced that she was sick, damaged. Then she changed her mind and believed that she'd been a victim, damned by her abuser to relive her abuse endlessly in her fantasy life. She wasn't sure what she thought now, but whatever she thought, one thing hadn't changed: it was the only thing that made her feel like that. Even thinking about it in bed with David set her on fire.

She began to feel the knots of inhibition tighten. Why didn't she just tell him? What was wrong with her? The secrecy of it had taken on a momentum all its own. She had never told anyone: not her first love, not her first husband, not anyone. How could she start now? Was this why she was never anything more to a man than a fling in a faraway city? Could she exorcise it here, with David, tonight?

God, not more questions. She would send him back to his room soon. That would be the end of it. In the meantime, she stared up at the ceiling and tried to empty her mind like they told her to do in yoga class. Fat chance. It's impossible to empty your mind, she thought in frustration and rolled over on her side.

‘What's wrong, baby?' David asked.

‘I thought you were asleep.'

‘No, I'm just relaxed.'

‘Oh.'

‘So what's wrong?'

‘Nothing.'

‘You seem nervous.'

‘It's nothing.'

‘Do you want to come? I thought you did, but if you're still horny, I can put you out of your misery.'

‘No, sweetheart. You were great.'

‘Then what's eating you?'

‘I said, it's nothing.'

‘I've seen fish out of water that toss and turn less than you.'

‘Are you comparing me to a fish?'

‘Did we go too fast?'

‘No. I do this all the time.'

‘What?'

‘I mean, I… it's not like a woman can't have casual sex.'

‘I'm not interested in what a woman can or can't do, Anne. I'm interested in you.'

‘What are you, my shrink?'

‘What do you think I am?'

‘I think you're getting on my nerves.'

‘Do men who try to be nice to you usually get on your nerves, or is it just me?'

‘I think you're particularly good at it.'

She shut him up with that one, but then she regretted it. What was her problem? Why was he pissing her off so much? Maybe she should give him a second chance.

‘Were you trying to be nice to me?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Why?'

‘Is there some reason I shouldn't be nice to you?'

‘Do you always answer a question with a question?'

‘No, do you?'

‘Fuck you.'

Anne picked up her pillow and swung it at him. Her momentum threw the covers off her and she felt exposed. He pounced on her before she could cover up again. She tried to fight him off, but he grabbed her wrists in one hand and held her facedown on the bed with the other.

Anne struggled but David was big and muscular. She'd liked that about him. Now she felt her body jiggle with each of her attempts to free herself. The jiggling made her feel middle-aged. Mid-30s and pinned by a graying man, probably married and just not telling her, in an anonymous hotel room. She couldn't be as picky as she had been when she was younger and prettier.

‘Get off me.'

‘No.'

‘Why do men always have to show women how strong they are?'

‘Why do women always provoke men?'

‘Go to hell.'

‘Why are you so angry?'

‘I'm not angry.'

But Anne was angry and she knew it and she didn't know why.

‘Why are you angry, Anne?'

‘Stop asking me that.'

Then she felt something unexpected. Using the hand that held her wrists behind her back he twisted her arms, causing her to gasp with pain. ‘What the hell?'

She acted shocked, but it sent her into orbit. It was a big thing for him to do. She knew that things like that didn't come naturally to him. It made her want him to like her, and it turned her on like she hadn't been turned on in a long time. She began to kick her legs and struggle with all her might. Her resistance was such that he couldn't hold her in place, so he pulled and maneuvered her so that she was lying, nude, across his lap. Once he had her there he could pin her legs under one of his knees, keeping her wrists in his left hand and using his right to hold her in place. When she realized he had gotten the best of her she slumped over his lap, her head and body sagging, offering her a view of the worn carpet.

Suddenly it all came flooding back. This was as close as she had ever been to it. The past and the present were nearly touching. This was what she needed.

‘Do it to me,' Anne whispered.

Don't ask me what it is, she thought. Please don't pretend you don't know. Even this close she didn't think she could have said, ‘spank me.'

She felt the arm that had been wrapped around her waist rise in the air. Do it hard. Please, do it hard. But there was no way he could know how hard she wanted it. There was no way a decent man like David would think to do it like she wanted it done. How could he know how hard she had gotten it the first time?

‘One hundred spanks, as hard as you can.' Having gone this far she wasn't about to leave things to chance. She was very particular.

David hesitated.

‘Do it.'

David did. The spanking was murder from the start, just like the first one. It burned like crazy and then it burned worse. After every spank she didn't know how she could possibly stand another. They sounded like pistol shots and she howled and sobbed like a baby.

Then by some miracle of time travel, some Proustian return to a lost origin, she wasn't with David anymore. She wasn't in a hotel room with a stranger. She wasn't in her thirties, divorced and alone. She was living at home, with her mom after her dad moved out. She had just turned eighteen and was a senior in high school. She had skipped her last class of the day because they were seeing some stupid filmstrip and had got out earlier than usual. She didn't have many friends and went to her mom's bedroom because that's where the only TV was. She would watch reruns until her mom got home from work.

But she stopped at the top of the stairs because she heard music. The TV was on. The door was ajar and she tiptoed up to it. Her mom's boyfriend Tony, a hairy, dark-skinned guy with a big belly, was sitting on her bed, nude. He was pulling his cock, which managed to protrude slightly beyond the fat that rolled on top of it. The music coming from the television was accompanied by the moans and sighs of an early 80s porn video.

Even though his looks left something to be desired, Anne hadn't minded Tony. He was better than a lot of mom's boyfriends. The sound of them fucking hadn't made Anne want to puke. It made her sort of edgy, like she had an itch she couldn't scratch. It grossed her out that it was her mom, but sometimes she wished he'd been doing it to her instead. Why did her mom get to have boyfriends while she slept alone in the narrow bed she'd had since she was six, unable to even get a date to her senior prom?

Now Tony was jacking off to porn in her mom's bedroom. She watched, intrigued. She'd never seen a naked man before. She didn't think boys her age would be as hairy or as squishy and worn, but she still found the sight arousing. She was fascinated by the way he would grab his cock and pull up and down really fast, then stop abruptly, watching more porn and catching his breath before jerking his cock again. It was warm in the bedroom and he glistened with sweat. He watched, slack-jawed, eyes drooping, slumped forward, sweaty, hairy and fat. Men are animals, Anne thought.

She never knew whether the floor creaked or whether she sighed or whether he just happened to look over in her direction, but next thing she knew he had spotted her.

To her amazement he didn't seem self-conscious. He didn't try to cover himself up or get dressed. He didn't even let go of his cock. But neither did she pretend she wasn't watching or run away.

‘Come here,' he said. ‘You're a dirty girl, watching me like that.'

Anne walked in and stood in front of him, looking at her feet. She didn't know what to say.

‘You like it, don't you?'

Silence, except for the moans coming from the TV behind her.

‘Why don't you take off your clothes and I'll show you what happens to dirty girls.'

Anne would never understand exactly why, but she pulled her T-shirt off over her head, reached back to unhook her bra and then leaned forward to let it fall down her arms. Then she used her toes to pull off her shoes, undid her jeans and pulled them and her panties down over her hips in one motion. He waited patiently while she kicked them off her feet and stood before him, completely nude. Then he looked her up and down.

‘You're pretty, but that won't stop me giving you what you deserve. A bad girl's got to learn her lesson. What would your mom think if she knew?'

‘You won't tell her, will you?' Anne had no idea why she asked. She knew he would be in a lot more trouble than she would, but she wanted this to be her own secret. She liked the feeling that she was taking something from her mom.

‘No, honey, it'll be our little secret. Now come here and get what you've got coming to you.'

She stepped towards him even though she still didn't know what he was going to do. She didn't know if she should be scared or excited. When he pulled her down over his lap she thought it was a funny position to be in. She didn't know of anything you did in this position. She peeked at the TV screen to see if that would give her any clue, but it just showed a couple fucking doggie style.

‘You've been a bad girl, haven't you, Annie?'

Only her mother called her Annie. She didn't understand the question and didn't know what to say. His hand landed like an explosion on her ass.

‘I said, you've been a bad girl, haven't you?'

‘I guess.'

It was more that she guessed that that was what she was supposed to say. Was he talking about watching him jack off? Was that what he meant was bad?

‘Well you're gonna get a hundred spanks for that, young lady.'

He didn't really sound like himself, not like the Tony who was casually friendly to her when he came over. He sounded like he was in the video on TV, like he was reading lines. The way he talked felt really dirty and turned her on.

She had never been spanked before and wondered what it would feel like. When he began, it hurt like hell. She was shocked at the savage assault. She didn't understand why he was hurting her. She cried and asked why, why, why? Then she lost herself in the relentless pain and stopped thinking. It hurt worse than anything she had ever felt and it drove her completely beyond herself, but after her sobbing and thrashing proved useless she gave herself over to it. She still hated it but found some deep relief in her helplessness. She was limp like a rag doll over Tony's lap as her ass continued to be pounded by his big, meaty hand. A girl was masturbating on TV.