The Choice (23 page)

‘What? Tell me.’

‘No. It has to be a surprise, but Stephen’s away throughout the break, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, as usual.’

‘Then don’t go down until a few days after he’s left, and you will come on holiday with us, won’t you?’

A shudder ran through me at her words.

‘Yes, of course. Come here.’

I pulled her to me and we began to kiss and to work at each other’s clothes, leading to sex, but I insisted on going to bed alone, determined to do my best the next day so that I could feel I’d genuinely earned my punishment for my pride.

Friday was calmer, with just the occasional flurry of rain, and there were none of the upsets of the day before. Stephen’s boat finally managed a bump, which put him in a good mood, and he was grinning and waving as I climbed into the boat.

I couldn’t resist a remark. ‘We’re going to do it, just you watch.’

‘Best of luck, that’s all I’m saying.’

I gave a haughty toss of my head as we pushed off, hoping to ensure that he dealt with me properly, and hopefully taunted me while he laid in. All I needed to do was flip my oar, maybe even miss a stroke, and I’d be getting it, but it had to be genuine and my determination was very real as we lined up.

From the moment the cannon went we threw everything into it, and from the speed with which we were outdistancing Emmanuel I’d begun to think it might just be possible after all. The crowd on the bank were yelling encouragement, and I never even realised that it was more for Mary’s than us, until there was a sudden dull crash, yells of alarm and cries of warning, too late as we ploughed into their oars, nearly upsetting the boat.

Mary’s had hit a waterlogged plank, invisible beneath water muddy brown in colour from the rain the day before, only catching it with an oar, but that had been enough to break their stroke and slow them down so fast that we’d run into them very nearly at full speed. It was still a bump, which left us needing to catch St Helen’s to take the Head of the River.

I was in no doubt where my loyalties lay. Now that I’d
suggested
that Stephen ought to spank me it was surely only a matter of time before it happened, while I couldn’t possibly let the rest of the team down. I was even convinced we could do it, despite the fact that Mary’s had never looked like catching St Helen’s, and the way people were talking it was no more than a formality.

Saturday was a beautiful day, making everybody more optimistic than ever, and the entire university seemed to have turned out to watch. I could hardly stand still as the men’s races were completed, and was changed and at the boathouse long before I needed to be. Stephen gave me a hug before I got into the boat, but even the feel of his hands on my body wasn’t enough to deter me from trying my very best.

We failed miserably, St Helen’s crossing the line two lengths ahead of us to retain their title and leave me feeling so dispirited I was close to tears. I went straight to Stephen for a hug, resting my head on his chest. The feel of his body against mine perked me up a bit, and I’d begun to smile at the prospect of what I’d let myself in for as he spoke.

‘It’s all right, Poppy. You did brilliantly, and of course you don’t have to worry about that silly forfeit.’

15

I WANTED TO
worry about my forfeit. I’d been worrying about it for the previous two weeks and now I wanted that worry to intensify over the sure knowledge that I was going to get it, and finally be brought to a glorious, agonising peak when I did. A lot of the fun in erotic spanking is knowing you’re going to be done, preferably when and how, and that there’s no escape.

At the time it didn’t matter so much but, once I’d got over my initial disappointment and realised that we’d done far better than we could have expected, it began to get to me. We had bumps suppers that evening, strictly college affairs with a lot of drink flowing and in the case of Boniface the girls celebrating wildly and teasing the boys, whose first eight wasn’t even in the top group. I was all right at first, very much one of the crowd, but as I began to get drunk I began to get horny too, and optimistic.

I wanted my bottom smacked, and, even though it was hard to convince myself that I wanted it smacked by Stephen rather than James and Violet, it was easy to convince myself that he’d only been trying to comfort me before, and would be itching to do me. He’d also be at his own bumps supper, drunk and with any luck as horny as I was. All I had to do was wait until the celebrations had begun to die down and sneak out of college.

To think was to act. The streets were full of people, and it was hardly unusual for a girl to be visiting her boyfriend on
a
Saturday evening, but I felt deliciously naughty and secretive as I made my way over to Emmanuel. The porter gave me a knowing grin, setting my cheeks on fire as I immediately imagined him as an audience to my coming punishment. He knew I was Stephen’s girlfriend, and was no doubt merely thinking of us in bed, but in my mind’s eye he was standing in the doorway of Stephen’s room, gloating over my humiliation as my bottom was laid bare and spanked.

Stephen was in hall, booming out a rowing song with his friends, a tankard of beer in one hand while he beat out the time with a roast potato stuck on the end of a fork. I came up behind him and put my arms around his neck, kissing him. Everybody around the table immediately dissolved into cheers and laughter, with quite a few suggestions as to what he should do with me, although none of them as bad as what I was hoping for.

Stephen was grinning from ear to ear as I whispered to him. ‘Your friends have got the right idea and, remember, I owe you a forfeit.’

Nobody heard me, but they’d guessed what I’d said, more or less. They set up a chant, demanding that I be taken to bed and soundly rogered. Fortunately the dons had long since gone to bed, or we might have been in trouble, and as it was I was blushing furiously as Stephen got up, took me by the hand and led me from the hall to the sound of deafening cheers. His hand enfolded mine completely, and all I could think about as we made for his room was that it would shortly be applied to my bottom. I wanted it hard, and I knew I was drunk enough to take it. With luck he was drunk enough to dish it out. He began to kiss me as soon as we were through the door, but I pulled back, hanging my head as I searched for the words to make my punishment as sweetly shameful as it could be.

‘I know you were nice and said you’d let me off, but I was too proud, thinking we could win, and rude about your chances, so I think you ought to take me down a peg or two and give me my forfeit.’

‘Don’t you worry about that, darling, just get down the way you do.’

‘Afterwards. Spank me first.’

‘I can’t wait, Poppy!’

‘Spank me!’

Suddenly he was serious. ‘Look, Poppy, I’m really not comfortable with this. I don’t know where it’s coming from, if you were abused or something, but …’

‘What? No, I was not abused, thank you very much. I just like it, Stephen, now come on, please?’

I was close to tears, with the wonderful fantasy castle I’d been building up for so long crumbling around me. He saw and took me in his arms, but that wasn’t what I wanted.

‘Please?’

He nodded, but he didn’t look comfortable and he didn’t know what to do, just patting my bottom a few times as he kissed me. I gave him an encouraging wiggle, but he began to grope instead, and to pull up my dress. That was better, and I clung to his chest, trying to push the bad thoughts out of my head and concentrate on the slow exposure of my bottom. With my dress up, he stuck his thumbs into the waistband of my knickers and pushed them quickly down, baring me. I pushed my bottom out, now quite enjoying the position, and the feel of his big hands on my cheeks.

‘That’s nice. Now smack it.’

Again he gave me only a few light pats before going back to feeling my cheeks. I couldn’t help getting turned on, but I needed my special thing.

‘More please, harder.’

Two more pats were applied to my bottom, just hard enough to make my skin tingle.

‘That’s nice. Again.’

I was clinging to him, my face pressed to his hard muscular chest, my bottom pushed well out. He liked my rear view, taking me on my knees more often than not, and I didn’t see how he could resist. James wouldn’t have done, not for an instant. I got two more pats, nervous, uncertain, and then he was pulling away.

‘I can’t wait.’

It was a lie, but I didn’t resist as he manhandled me into position, still hoping that as his arousal grew his inhibitions would give way and he would give me what I needed while he was inside me. It didn’t happen. He bent me over the bed, my feet braced apart and my hands flat against the wall, an excellent position for a spanking as well as for entry. I’d given up asking, praying he’d just do it, but he simply got himself hard between my cheeks and slid himself in, gripping my hips and taking off as if he was in a contest to see how fast he could come. His belly was smacking against my cheeks with every thrust, but that only made my frustration worse, and for the first time since we’d been together I didn’t come.

He did, deep inside me, before collapsing on the bed, his eyes closed and his handsome face set in a blissful, sleepy smile. I almost forgave him, telling myself that he was only being nice and didn’t want to hurt me, but it was no good. He had hurt me, by refusing my request after I’d tried so hard to help him with his own fantasies, which didn’t turn me on at all. Worse, he’d suggested that my special desire might be the result of abuse, which was not only untrue but also an insult to me, and potentially to my friends, my teachers, my parents, none of whom had ever mistreated me.

I wanted to talk, but he’d quickly gone to sleep, which was
probably
just as well or there would have been a row. He was also sprawled across the bed, and I could see that if I stayed I’d have a very uncomfortable night indeed, not just physically either. I needed to go anyway, my head full of bitter thoughts and frustration, as well as dizzy with drink, so I left Stephen as he was and made my way back out into the night.

It wasn’t even late, and the streets were still crowded, with happy students drinking outside the pubs and making their way between colleges. There was a taxi setting a group down directly across the street and I ran to catch it, indifferent to the expense.

‘Eynsham Road, please. I’ll tell you when to stop.’

He set off without a word and I lay back in the seat, feeling sorry for myself. It really wasn’t fair, when all I’d wanted was a strong man who would look after me and answer my needs. Stephen had seemed perfect, and now there was a stubborn part of me that wanted to cling on, hoping that with time everything would come together. I could hear Giles in my head, smug and calm and rational as he explained that I ought to accept Stephen as he was, be discreet and a good wife. That was never going to happen. I’d already been unfaithful, and not just with Violet, but also with James, and there was no denying that as I’d hung in my bonds with my whipped bottom thrust out for entry I’d been completely willing, more than willing.

We reached the house, the windows bright with yellow light, a sight so welcome that I was choking back tears as I paid the driver. He took no notice, leaving me on the darkened road with the light above James’ door a beacon for my steps. I knocked, waited, and knocked again before James’ voice answered. ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s me, Poppy.’

The door opened immediately, allowing James to hustle me
quickly
inside and close it behind him. I immediately saw why he’d been so cautious. The main room was in plain view to anybody who came in and in the centre of the floor, her arms above her head and her wrists bound together, was Violet, her lipstick-red high heels barely touching the ground as she swung from the great iron hook set into the beam above her head. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes heavy-lidded and drowsy with pleasure. She was stark naked but for her extravagant shoes and the ribbon in her hair, her skin slick with sweat, her nipples straining to erection, her hips and thighs flushed pink. As she saw me she managed a happy smile, but James had realised that I was upset.

‘What’s the matter?’

His voice was full of concern, and Violet immediately straightened up.

The tears began to trickle down my face as I spoke. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on you, but …’

James had put his arm around my shoulders, but it was Violet who realised what was wrong. ‘Is it Stephen?’

I nodded miserably, knowing that of all the people I knew they were the only ones who could possibly understand how I felt. James quickly released some catch at Violet’s wrists and she took me in her arms as I began to babble.

‘He wouldn’t. I asked him. I tried to make it fun. I begged him, but he wouldn’t, not properly. He seemed to think I’d been abused or something.’

‘A lot of men don’t understand, sweetie, most of them really. I’m sorry. Pour her a drink, James.’

‘I’ve probably had enough.’

They ignored me, Violet helping me to the sofa while James poured out a measure of brandy. I took it gratefully enough, my fingers trembling as I held the glass. Violet had sat down beside me, cuddling me against her chest, with James on the
other
side stroking my hair. Slowly I began to relax, and to calm down, until my tears had stopped and I’d begun to feel I was being silly.

I could also see what they’d been up to. The ropes were still attached to the hook, and on a nearby table was a large black whip with a thick leather-bound handle and maybe a dozen tails of what looked like suede. Judging from the look on Violet’s face when I’d interrupted them the session had been approaching a climax.

‘I really choose my moments, don’t I?’

Neither answered, still comforting me, but with the hard feel of James’ arm across my back and Violet stark naked beside me my thoughts had turned back to what I’d wanted in the first place.

‘Why don’t you two carry on … or something?’

James made some soothing remark, too low to catch, but Violet understood.