Abduction Pt. 03

Part 3 - Dinner Guests

The shadows were starting to lengthen as the old man got up and reached for his walking stick. It was a signal for the party to pack up and return to the house.

"Girls, you are going to be allowed to stay up a little late tonight because we have visitors. A bit of a treat! Put on your best clothes for dinner. It's not like the beach when you can run around in the altogether to your heart's content. No, no, I know you like doing that. Remember, though, little girls are to be seen and not heard with grownups. Be polite and answer if spoken to. Now you go and have your bath, wash all that salt off and get dressed."

Celia was not surprised, not at all surprised to find Natasha and her 'best clothes' were the school uniforms again. Neatly laid out across their bed.

The pleated maroon skirt, the matching woollen jacket, the white shirt with its crisp white collar so suitable for the carefully folded tie, sensible shoes and long white socks. Two piles of matching clothes - except her panties were maroon and Natasha's white. No brassieres of course.

Good to bathe and wash the salt away, good to shampoo hair clear of sand, nice actually to sit naked on the bed with Natasha and plait her hair and have the same done to herself. There was little point fighting against the old man - Mr Levinson allegedly - they would have to dress in the uniforms and might as well do the hair themselves. Celia was sure otherwise the men would do it - very possibly being made to sit on their laps whilst they did it, very possibly sitting there with an erection inside them. And, after all. it was nice to do each other's hair.

Hair done they again sat together, side by side. Natasha's hand reached out and cupped one of Celia's breasts. It was obvious Natasha was feeling the same as she. An unexpected interest in each other and not simply as 'friends.'

The bedroom door opened. It was the old man. He was dressed very finely in a black dinner suit complete with bow tie. The dinner was clearly going to be remarkably formal for a summer's evening down by the beach.

"Not ready yet? Come on girls get those socks on."

He stood there quite obviously taking pleasure in the girls' dressing, in seeing them in just white long socks.

"Shirts and ties."

Again no doubt pleasing to see a couple of girls in white shirts with their bottoms and mounds - denuded mounds - peeping out underneath. Partial nudity being more erotic than the complete thing. Celia remembered how much she had enjoyed seeing a former boyfriend wandering around the bedroom in just shirt and tie in the morning whilst getting dressed with his 'equipment' hanging, swinging and peeping out. She remembered one morning making it rise by just bringing one naked thigh out from under the bedclothes. How fine it had looked standing sticking out from under his shirt. She had called to him and she had sucked - it had all caused him to be late for work! Celia was no stranger to sex but not like this, not abducted and used.

"Well you can hardly go into dinner like that can you? Come on, knickers and skirts."

Natasha and Celia complied. They picked up the jackets and put them on.

"Come, come and meet our guests. Don't forget to be polite and curtsey as you've been taught."

Curtsey?

The guests proved to be a couple of elderly and distinguished looking gentlemen. Their hair was grey and they were dressed in evening wear like their host. Their faces were all smiles as they saw the girls.

"Emily-Sue, my how you've grown. Quite the little lady! And Tabitha, well, what can I say! You are getting a tall girl."

Both Natasha and Celia curtseyed. It was not a bad effort.

"And tell me," said the other, "how old are you now?"

"Twenty," said Celia finding she could speak.

"Nineteen, sir." said Natasha.

The men looked at each other and laughed.

"Don't wish the years away girls. I know, I know."

"But they are getting bigger, Stephen. They'll soon be blossoming out into women you know."

"I know Archie, I know, perhaps next year they won't want to come and enjoy the simple pleasures of the beach and will want to be off at parties and all those sorts of things."

"A shame. They all grow up too soon."

"Indeed. Girls, this is Mr Staples and Mr Carnforth. Perhaps you don't remember them."

It was hardly likely, thought Celia. She suspected, though, that she was going to get to know them better; could not think that the pretence of them being little girls would give way to the reality of them being helpless big girls fully available for Mr Staples and Mr Carnforth's sexual gratification. If both Mr Staples and Mr Carnforth's penes were not in her mouth and vagina, and perhaps elsewhere, by the end of the evening then she was a Dutchman!

The party sat on the veranda, the sound of the sea providing a pleasant backdrop. The men talked and largely seem to ignore the girls as the soup course went by.

"Did you have a nice time on the beach today?"

"No, it was horrid, Mr Carnforth." Celia could not avoid it. She was permitted to answer but had to be polite. It was absurd.

"Emily-Sue!" Mr Levinson looked annoyed. "They had a lovely time only perhaps Emily-Sue felt something unexpected in the sea. I think it frightened her, a fish or something, slithering against her - you know - girlie bits, it frightened her a little, I think."

"What about you Tabitha?" It was Mr Staples speaking.

"Course we didn't. It was awf..."

"Tabitha! I don't know what's come over them. Perhaps they are tired and want to go to bed. They've done a lot of running around with the boys. Any more of that and it will be a spanking."

Celia thought she caught the faintest trace of a smile, a very satisfied smile on the faces of both of the guests. She now knew what was coming.

The main course - delicious but the girls ate sullenly. They did not want to be there. A clatter from Natasha as she put her cutlery down.

"Tabitha!"

"What!" she snapped.

It was enough. It was the excuse the old man needed: not that any excuse was really needed. He had the girls, after all, completely in his power. He pushed back his chair. "Tabitha come here."

All eyes were on the black girl, the black girl in her neat school uniform with the long white socks. She came around, as she was told, to stand in front of the old man. Legs a little apart, hands on hips looking a little defiant. She looked very much the cross little schoolgirl with her pouting face and pigtails: or would have done if it was not for the very obvious swell of her bosom and her height.

"You know what happens to girls who are naughty. Well?"

"No, I..."

"Tabitha, be quiet. They get spanked. Come, bend over my knee."

Celia watched in disbelief as Natasha placed herself over his knees. Her bottom uppermost, her lovely black legs sticking out from under her skirt and below her knees the whiteness of her socks. She knew, of course, that Natasha had not choice. The old man had spoken. He raised his hand.

"The material of young Tabitha's pleated skirt is quite thick, Stephen. I can't imagine at school they're punished like that. When I was at school old Mr Manners always insisted we took our shorts down. I think perhaps you are a little lenient?" Mr Carnforth's comment was made with a definite sparkle in his eye. It was not a disinterested observation.

Mr Levinson hand carefully went to the hem of the skirt and gently raised the material; letting the white panties slowly come into view.

"White?" Queried Mr Staples. "Not quite the uniform panties. I expect she would get a further paddling for that at school."

"Indeed," the old man replied. "Emily-Sue, have you uniform knickers on? Show us."

And Celia had to stand, her legs seemed not under her control at all and would not let her do anything else. She lifted her skirt up by its hem and showed the elderly men her maroon knickers. What a thing to be showing to a dinner party of men.

"Emily-Sue, take them off please and give them to Tabitha to put on."

Celia did not leave her skirt up whilst she pulled her knickers down; did not give the men a sight of her shaved mound and bottom - though she was quite sure they would all see more than enough of them by the end of the evening.

Natasha too stood and pulled her white panties from under her skirt. They were taken by Mr Carnforth. They were not given to Celia.

Celia handed her knickers to Natasha and they were pulled up. Celia wondered if Natasha liked the idea of her sex being intimate with the material that had so recently covered her own. She hoped so.

Bent over Mr Levinson's lap again the skirt was once more slowly lifted revealing maroon knickers and brown thighs.

"That's better," he said. His hand descended. It was not a gentle slap. There was an "ow" from Natasha. All the men smiled. The hand came down again and the buttocks jumped and clenched within the thick maroon cotton.

"It's been a long time since I chastised a little girl," said Mr Staples.

Celia watched, feeling strangely vulnerable without knickers beneath her skirt; she knew this was not a comment from Mr Staples but a request. It was acceded to.

Natasha was swopped from one pair of knees to another; the skirt raised and a different hand descended.

"Do you think it is hurting enough? I mean smacking should cause a bit of smarting! Mr Manners often pulled our pants down as well."

Clearly Mr Staples needed little encouragement. His fingers were on the elasticised top and gently easing the knickers down revealing, inch by inch, Natasha's lovely rounded brown bottom. The maroon knickers were not eased down a little but all the way down to her ankles. Celia watched as Natasha's buttocks clenched, perhaps anticipating the next slap or worrying that an inquisitive finger might perhaps slip between the cheeks and touch her bottom hole. Celia remembered how her own fingers had touched Natasha there in the bath, how she had carefully soaped the wrinkled rubbery orifice and felt Natasha doing the same to her own.

The finger did not come but the hand did. It was a firm slap, flesh on flesh. It looked like it hurt and Natasha certainly let out a yelp. Celia wondered what it would be like to spank Natasha - it was awful to think she really would not mind if the men asked her to do that just a little.

Down came the hand again.

"I think," said Mr Carnforth, "it does young girls good to have a firm hand on their buttocks."

Celia could see he was looking at her; could see where his thoughts were drifting - very probably beyond a firm hand on the buttocks to a firm penis between her legs! Mr Carnforth probably thought it did young girls good to have a firm penis between their legs. She knew, though, that the first thing would be a spanking. Again she felt her vulnerability - she had no knickers on anymore.

Mr Staples hand came down on Natasha's quivering buttocks once again.

"There, there, don't cry." Mr Staples hand was lightly stroking the smooth dark brown skin of Natasha's buttocks. "You had to be punished."

Natasha was not crying. It was all a game. Mr Staples stroking fingers were 'accidentally' curved so the finger tips were stroking right in her bottom crack. Celia just knew he was going to touch her bottom hole - just knew it.

"Don't," she said.

It was the excuse.

"Emily-Sue come here." It was the old man. "I thought I told you only to speak when you were spoken to. Like Tabitha I think a quick smacking will remind you of your manners."

Celia's limbs did not obey her but Mr Levinson. She just lay across his knees like she had not done since, since... not even a boyfriend had asked her to play that game.

She felt the material of her maroon pleated skirt being lifted and her bottom being brought into view. She knew five pairs of male eyes would be on it, enjoying the sight. Mr Levinson, Mr Carnforth, Mr Staples and the two minders would all be watching and thinking what they might like to do with it and her - and, she knew, not only were they thinking that but knew they could and, sometime that evening, would!

The old man's hand was firm - and it hurt! Once, twice, thrice the hand descended.

Mr Carnforth's voice again, "Stephen, I wonder if I might help. I wouldn't want you to hurt your hand."

Celia was told to go and lie over Mr Carnforth's knee. Standing, her skirt fell back down hiding her buttocks. That would not last long. Once more she lay down across a man's knees, once more she felt her skirt being lifted. A hand right at the bottom of her cheeks almost touching her sex, pushing her a little further across the knees, bringing her bottom a little higher. A slight easing apart of her legs with the whole manoeuvre, no doubt, designed to give Mr Carnforth a bit of a view of her bottom hole and sex.

Celia clenched her cheeks both in anticipation of the slap and trying to hide her private parts. The hand descended with more force and enthusiasm than Mr Levinson. It hurt - and so did the several slaps that followed. Natasha may not have cried. Tears though welled up in Celia's eyes.

"There, there," said Mr Carnforth, "all over now. Punishment is good for little girls so they learn their lessons."

Celia felt her own bottom being stroked. Gentle fingers... but gentle fingers creeping.

"Time for pudding," I think said Mr Levinson.

The men stood at the veranda rail looking out over the sands.

"Would you perhaps," the old man turned to his guests and paused. The sound of waves lapping the shore came clear across the sand. They could all see the white of the breaking waves by the moonlight. It was a lovely peaceful scene. Mr Levinson continued, "Perhaps you would like to go for a swim whilst you are here. Refreshing after dinner. Lovely by moonlight."

"I'm sorry, Stephen, I forgot to bring my trunks."

"Oh, no worries, Archie. The girls don't notice that sort of thing. The boys and I don't normally worry either. I can't think you will worry about being naked with other men. I mean, remember school!"

Celia thought girls would certainly notice if old men were like that, She could see beneath the material of their trousers the old men were not exactly at rest. There was a definite straining.

"The girls will keep you company and, so you don't feel strange, they won't have their costumes either. Actually they don't have any with them, not even their school black one pieces. You don't mind, girls?"

It was a question, they could answer.

"Yes, yes we do."

"Oh dear, you see Archie and Matthew, they are starting to get conscious of their bodies, they are growing up. Such a shame. I think you might see a little 'budding' of their breasts. Don't be silly girls, there's nothing to be ashamed about nakedness. You didn't feel like that with the boys and me today. Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples will help you once they are ready. Now watch them; they are not embarrassed getting undressed in front of you."

And so Celia and Natasha had to watch. It was so obvious the men were enjoying undressing in front of the girls, their smiles, occasional whispered comments - a pleasurable exhibitionism - all the way down to their seriously tented boxers. Celia could see they were having a lovely time. Finally the boxers came down as they turned from the girls and then, they turned around completely naked to face the girls and the old man. From Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples perspective there should have been a fanfare to announce the revealing, the exposure of their twin erections - fully extended and clearly at the peak of their excitement.

Celia had to admit that, like the two minders, these two gentlemen had nothing to worry about in the genitalia department. They came walking towards the girls, their big shiny helmets pointing upwards and swaying. It was obvious to Celia that they were really loving doing that, loving the opportunity of exposing themselves to, well, young women - Celia had no illusion they really thought themselves about to go swimming with young schoolgirls. It was all just a game to them - they knew perfectly well Natasha and she were mature girls.

"Come on Emily-Sue and Tabitha let's get these old school clothes off."

They had to be unresisting as first jackets were removed and then, unnecessarily slowly, blouses were undone, button by button, and pulled apart to reveal their breasts and nipples. Clearly the men were itching to get their hands on them but that was yet not the game. They were simply undressing the girls for a swim - as if they could not do it for themselves. Blouses removed, the men stepped backwards to look.

"The girls are getting bigger, you know, Stephen. They'll need brassieres soon, training brassieres - they'll like that. It's what big girls wear. They'll be really excited by that."

"I know, I know. Such a pity. But I have a lady coming to measure them and fit them."

The men, all of them, taking great pleasure in the girls dressed just in their pleated maroon skirts and long white socks yet naked from the waist up with their, hardly just budding, breasts so on show.

Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples with their exposed and straining erections reached for the clasps of the skirts. Celia noticed, with some distain, that their penes actually touched the material, were even briefly rubbed against it and then down came the skirts all the way to the floor leaving the girls naked but for their white socks.

Celia could not help thinking how lovely Natasha looked in just white socks, socks reaching almost to her knees. The delicious contrast of her dark, dark smooth skin and the white cotton of the socks so pleasing to the eye. Celia so wished she could take Natasha away, get away from these awful men, and take her to bed. How lovely it would be to touch and run her tongue over her body made just so extra sexy by those white socks. They would not be coming off!

But coming off they would have to be for swimming. Mr Carnforth lifted Natasha up under her arms, no doubt pleased to have his hands on her flesh, and plonked her down on the table's edge. He was actually standing there between her open thighs, his erection inches from her sex looking like he was about to engage with her - yes, push his penis into her and engage in coitus. He was momentarily transfixed by what he was seeing and where he was standing. It really did look like he was about to and it so clearly went through his mind. Instead, he stepped back and gently lifted one leg and then the other and rolled Natasha's socks down her calves but looking, so clearly looking, not at the socks but right at the soft folds of Natasha's sex, her now so hairless sex.

Celia could see Mr Carnforth was sweating with excitement; she could easily imagine a spontaneous ejaculation simply caused by his delight at seeing Natasha so exposed and, of course, being able to touch to roll her socks down her legs. Celia imagined his penis suddenly jerking and spewing out white onto Natasha's shaved mound - again the contrast of white on black skin. Celia was appalled to find herself rather wishing, if it happened, to be able to lick it off by kneeling and applying her lips to Natasha's sex. Never mind the men in the room!

What was happening to her? She had not had these feelings about women before - but wasn't Natasha simply lovely?

Celia's socks were also removed and the girls ushered down the veranda steps, the men following - no doubt staring happily at the twin female bottoms, enjoying the manly feel of their swaying erections.

The old man stood in his evening suit leaning on his stick and watching the four naked figures getting smaller as they walked to the sea. He smiled and went to pour himself a brandy.

They came back up the veranda steps, the men laughing and joking. It was perhaps not the same for the girls. There had been a lot of serious groping in the sea. Not really what aged visitors were meant to do with little girls when the host was not there to see! Penes had touched flesh moreover.