Bad Brat Girl

Sarah and her friends Cat and Jake have appeared previously in two femdom stories, 'Strength is a Caged Cock' and 'My Love is Like a Red, Red Arse'. Jake is submissive to his wife Cat, who sometimes delegates to Sarah. So while Sarah's mentioned she's a switch, who sometimes submits to her fiancé Duncan, this is the first story where you get to meet him and see that (apart from 'Submissives of Catan', which is mainly snarky flirting and an excuse for a ridiculous amount of gaming puns...)

Many thanks to joy_of_cooking for beta reading.

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Bad Brat Girl

"Sarah? Let's stay in the other hotel, down the road? And arrive the day before."

I smiled at Duncan, my fiancé. We both knew that an extra night in a hotel meant a thoroughly dirty weekend. Especially if it wasn't the hotel that would be swarming with the other guests attending the same wedding.

"Go on the Friday?" I realised a timing problem. "That's the day of my big meeting in Oxford."

"That's OK, love. You pack everything the day before, I'll drive up, you get the train, meet me there." Duncan grinned. "I can pretend I don't know you. Meeting a girl in a hotel bar. You know what bar girls are like! I bet she'd be a right slut..."

Our minds worked on the same lines. Dunc always liked me role-playing a slut. Some might say, it wasn't role-playing.

Hence, two months later, I'd spent all day being a respectable Product Manager, giving presentations. Then I got my train, trying to psych myself up into becoming a sex object for the night. For an hour, I read porn on my phone. It nudged me towards the right mindset. As did Duncan's text:

'Are you a naughty girl, Sarah? I know you are! Show me.'

I knew how to prove it, in a way he'd appreciate. I put a couple items in my coat pocket, then left my large bag on my seat, heading with just my phone and coat to the train toilet.

A quick wash. I took the solid perspex butt plug out of my pocket, slipped a condom over it, ripped open a sachet of lube, and squirted the contents over the tip. I binned the sachet and condom wrapper, leaving no evidence here of me being a slut. Then, one forearm resting on the basin, I bent over. I couldn't see my arse, but even so, just knowing what was hidden from the mirror turned me on. I pointed the plug between my arse-cheeks.

The train wobbled. Lube smeared up and down. That rounded end pressed against my arsehole. It slipped in an inch or so, because I'm that easy. The juddering of the train helped, as I gently urged the toy upwards.

I've got a very welcoming arse. That's what Duncan says, too. I just think about getting penetrated in my dirtiest, most embarrassing hole, and my sphincter just pops right open, letting the full girth of a slick cock or plug slide in. It worked this time, too.

I cheated a little. It's really difficult taking photos of your own bottom. Even if you aren't on a moving train. So I have a folder of similar sexy photos I've collected. Some I just copied off Fetlife; others are of me, but I got my mate Jake to take them. He insisted on good lighting, so even the ones designed to look 'bad' look pretty good. As in, they show exactly what they are, a woman in the middle of purposefully pushing a sex toy into her bum.

I picked one of me with a white and grey blurred background. Jake's utility room could pass as a train toilet, right?

I sent it to Duncan. 'Proof' that I'm a dirty girl for him. At least, that was the 'dirty'. Now, for the 'girl'.

For work, I intentionally wear clothes and make-up to make me look both older and more senior than I am. Given I'm five foot nothing and look Chinese, that means people still underestimate me. They rarely believe I'm early-thirties, though at least when I speak, they soon realise I know what I'm talking about. But it only takes scrubbing my face clean, and turning my coiled plaits into two long black pigtails, for no-one in Britain to ever guess that I'm over twenty-one. Nowadays I look just-adult, probably eighteen -- there's some advantages to my big curvy tits and arse -- but definitely young enough that people assume Duncan, a large dodgy brown guy with a lush black beard, is twice my age and taking advantage of me. He's only three years older!

I adjusted the pigtails to a more jaunty angle, like Abby off NCIS. They still reached to my armpits. I looked like one of the thousands of Chinese or Japanese or other Asian students cluttering up universities here; the kind with an anime fetish. Ah, fetishes! If only they knew...

A few tugs of my pencil skirt made it the more risqué type of 'above the knee'. Time for a genuine selfie for Duncan. He looks naturally older than he is -- tall, hairy, muscular, thick facial hair -- so playing up the difference between us is fun. How might a 'middle-aged man' -- Dunc's only thirty-five, nowhere near! -- take advantage of what looked like a naive student playing with kinky ideas?

He sent a pic back, showing off his carefully-groomed beard. Designer stubble on the sides, small moustache and goatee trimmed to perfection. Makes him look at least forty, to any Brit. And hot as hell. 'Eh, leng zai, lah!!!' I replied.

'Terima kasih, lah.' He thanked me for calling him handsome. 'Meet me in the bar. Are you a girl who hangs out in bars?' The cause of the downfall of society, bar girls: according to his family, anyway.

'Yes, boss.' I sent a pic showing the height of my hemline, leaning back to expose some bare thigh above my stocking.

'That kind of girl? I wouldn't allow a girl of mine to run round like that. She should be punished.'

'Yes, Daddy.'

'Naughty girl. I love you.'

Mission accomplished!

I returned to my seat, sitting down carefully. Plugs have a habit of sliding out of your arse, no matter what the size. Reassuring, I suppose. What goes in must come out...

A nice filled feeling. Warm and friendly. Just gentle movement, as I rocked with the train's motion.

Of course, now I wanted my pussy filled. I'd just have to wait until I found Duncan.

I checked in at the hotel. The assistant took forever to process my key, even after I provided proof of age. Eventually I escaped and reached my sometimes-dominant fiancé. That night, I didn't need to be the domme. A nice change, though I knew I'd think differently at some point that evening.

"Hello, Sarah, love. Don't you look lovely! I'll keep your coat. Another for me, and get yourself a drink, too."

I waited at the bar, knowing half the clientele would be eyeing up my hemline. I wasn't surprised when I had to do the walk of shame back to the table, to fetch my driving licence from said coat. Every time I do my hair in bunches, I'm asked for ID. Duncan grinned. He knew that, too. All part of convincing me to give up control for the night.

The barmaid had been giving him dirty looks, until realising my actual age. The usual shocked expression. I glared at her, despite knowing my usual bitch face wouldn't work with my current appearance.

I sat down, ranting in between sips of my drink, unloading all my work updates. Duncan told me about his day, too. Then, both of us mentally refreshed, we could begin our evening.

He told me how. "Eh, you go upstairs first. Freshen up, if you like. I left an outfit on the bed for you. I'll finish my drink." He checked his ostentatious watch. "I'll see you in fifteen, my girl. Be ready."

Dunc knows I love dressing up. Not normal dressing up; kinky dressing up. Much more fun. I wondered what he'd have chosen.

It wasn't so different from what I was wearing.

Another large, white, bra. Only this one, see-through lacy mesh, not respectable cotton coverage, pushed everything from the sides forwards, then held everything at the front up and out, for all to see. It changed my top half from 'curvalicious but normal', to 'pornographic', even if I wore a totally-covering turtleneck.

I put it on, knowing that shifting it round my body was taking up several of my fifteen minutes.

The flimsy blouse to go with it barely covered anything at all. I had to give up on the top two buttons: it just wouldn't do up over my chest. It was thin, cheap, fabric, the white pretty much transparent. There really wasn't much point trying to fasten it to hide the bra. Even under both layers, my brown nipples were visible.

Thick shapewear panties, basically white knickers, covering me sort-of respectably from hips to below my navel. They clung and smoothed all round my bottom, shaping my stomach, too. At least they'd hold that butt plug in place. Duncan hadn't said to remove it, so I didn't.

Long white socks, coming just up to my knees. The 'sexy schoolgirl' look usually involves thigh-high socks, often with bows. These were neither. They made me feel like I really was a young student, new to a school in England, about to be disciplined for inappropriate dress.

Because the skirt, no doubt about it, was indecent. It wasn't a tacky dress-up costume 'schoolgirl' skirt. No, this was a proper pleated wool kilt, kilt-pin and all. It fit around me -- I'd worn it for Duncan before -- but it was very short.

Not just 'bend over and people might see my knickers' short. No, that was normal for a slut like me, spanked regularly to make her behave.

This skirt was 'we can see the gusset of your knickers, and every time you take a step, we can see it's getting more damp. You're a slut, even by the standards of a slut party.'

I sighed. The foot of exposed skin between my knee-socks and the skirt made the outfit appear childish, more than sexy. Equal amounts of sock and visible thigh, emphasising how little the kilt covered. But I needed to complete the outfit, for Daddy.

If Duncan wanted me in this get-up, then I was definitely being Daddy's girl.

First, the Mary-Jane Doc Martens. Proper buckle-up shoes with a T-bar, like a good schoolgirl, the Docs chosen to make me a couple inches taller, not for the attitude. Then I adjusted the skirt around me. It still exposed my crotch.

Back when I actually was at school, we had a boarding house just for the Upper Sixth. We were all eighteen, not to mention the other foreign students who were older: nineteen, even twenty. The house had a leering housemaster, who used to say, "Nice pelmet -- where's the curtains?" when anyone wore a short skirt. With this skirt, he'd have been completely justified. And then probably have had a heart attack.

In the bathroom, I touched up my foundation, eye liner and lipstick. The lipstick colour wasn't labelled 'Slut Red', but should have been. My pout at my reflection, before blotting it with a tissue, couldn't be more obvious a signal: this mouth needs a cock to suck!

Right. One minute to spare. I tightened my pigtails and returned to the bedroom, just as the door lock clicked open. My instinct was to hide, but that really wasn't going to help me...

"Ah! Don't you look lovely, my dear?" Duncan had polished up his voice for the occasion, applying every upper-class Received Pronunciation vowel he'd ever learned. "Let me see you, little girl."

A large posh man in an impeccable suit, versus a young-looking tiny lass in indecent whore's clothing. My subservient downward gaze to his shoes was instinctive, as was clasping my hands behind my back.

"Good girl." The phrase any submissive lives for.

He stepped forward to hug me, all his usual genuine affection, only his kiss landed on my cheek, careful not to smudge my red lips. His strong hand roamed downwards, of course. Onto my skirt, and then underneath, onto my pants.

He gripped the hard flange of the butt plug.

"And what do you call this?"

"I..." Given he'd approved me inserting it, I was lost.

"It's slipping, isn't it?"

Was it? "If you think so, sir."

"I do. You must be getting slack, shoving toys up your bum so much. Or just stretched out. Dear me, what a filthy little girl you are. Never mind, we can fix it. Remove that, please." He tapped his finger on my crack, impatiently.

I trotted to the bathroom and obeyed, returning as fast as possible. Then I saw the replacement on the bed.

"Oh, please..."

"You're worried it'll be painful?" The last time we'd tried the inflatable butt plug, which certainly wouldn't slide out (not that I was convinced my other one had), it had pressed too hard into my sphincter, and been uncomfortable. When we'd tried fucking, it had been a bust. "Don't worry, I don't want it to hurt you either! See, it's small to start with. Two pumps, could you take? For Daddy?" Duncan purred, the perfect sleazy older man.

"That... that should be fine." I let him slide the lubricated toy inside the leg-hole of my pants, then up and in, where the previous one had been. My Daddy's touch felt so good. He removed his hand, patted me on the bum like any entitled guy from the Seventies, and I stood up again.

Then I felt the pressure building inside me, as he squeezed the air bulb. One pump caused a pleasant sensation. The second made me gasp, but I had to admit it was good too. Satisfying.

"OK?"

I turned to him. The dangling bulb swung and hit my thigh, just above my knee. He didn't seem to think anything of it, turning up the cuffs of his crisp shirt in a way guaranteed to make any girl weak at the knees. "Yes, sir."

"Good! You look amazing, by the way, love. Absolutely perfect. Ah, come here, my lovely naughty girl." He took my hand, and I followed him to the doorway.

He continued, "Stunning. A perfect girl for Daddy. Right, let's go." Duncan opened the door six inches.

Forget protocol. "What the fuck?"

"Ah. Remember, we'd agreed we'd offer you up to Cat and Jake one night? You remember? Yeah, I know you do! They'll be at the wedding tomorrow, too. So... Make a nice change from you being an extra domme for Jake, won't it?"

I'd looked forward to this happening, for months. Didn't mean I wasn't apprehensive, now the moment had arrived.

"Don't fret, poppet, they're just next door. Come along, and I'll knock."

"But..." I squirmed, horribly anxious, the tell-tale tube and bulb hanging under my skirt starting to swing to and fro.

"There's no-one out here. Yet." People had gone to dinner, too early to return. "Besides, what sort of pervert will be looking that closely? Hm? Only the sort of person you like would figure it out. Staring at your lovely round bottom. Yes, I've got the room key."

The door clanked closed behind me. No escape. I clutched Duncan's hand as he kept his promise, tapping a code signal on the adjacent door.

The door opened four inches, hampered by the security hasp.

"Yes?"

"Don't fuck about, Jacob. Let us in before your new toy gets cold feet."

Jake knew when not to push it. The door was open and I was halfway through before Duncan had finished his sentence.

I stood, awkwardly, in the short corridor leading to the bedroom. Having dommed the guy a few times, it was no surprise to me to see Jake crouching submissively. No shirt, no trousers, bare feet. Naked, bar tattoos and a couple toys to accessorise his genitals.

The man had to stay bent over, his palms on his knees, given the hefty wooden humbler bar restraining his balls back behind his thighs. Jake's fringe flopped over his face, oddly more undignified than his nudity. Six foot of slim white guy, with dark hair and cheekbones, is impressive naked, even without the waistcoat effect of Jake's black-and-white tattoos covering his torso front and back, and the large red-and-black dragon wrapped round his thigh, tongues of red fire reaching up to his caged cock.

I heard the en-suite door, but didn't react until Catherine had emerged from the bathroom and was groping my arse under my ridiculous excuse for a skirt.

Cat was casually-dressed but still ready for the evening; thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots and red lipstick under her perfect black curls. She's basically a mass of happy bouncing ringlets, with a small happy woman attached.

"Well, well, well!" she said. Horribly chirpy, as always. When we were both dommes together, that was fine. Tonight? I was increasingly nervous. "Lovely to see you, Dunc. Looks like we've got two fantastic toys to play with tonight!"

"We do indeed. Don't we, Sarah?"

I inhaled deeply, caught Jake's eye. He'd switched off all his outside swagger and was being the perfect obedient sub. Personally, I find finding my submissive side much harder. I couldn't compete with Jake, so my mood swung the opposite way. I became a complete brat.

"Yes, 'sir'," I told my fiancé, all sullen petulant sarcasm.

Cat laughed. "Oh, you've got a right bratty girl there, all right! We'll have to do something about that!"

"Won't we just," Dunc agreed, trying to sound stern.

"Of course, when I say 'we'... You and I don't want to put ourselves out too much. Jacob!"

"Yes, Mistress?" He was kneeling by her feet in an instant. Show-off.

"This naughty girl doesn't seem to realise her place in the hierarchy. Get her on all fours and give her a good spanking, please."

Jake looked up at me. He'd never topped me before, but I knew he'd enjoy it. One reason I'd agreed to let him and Cat at me.

Now, in the moment, my guts recoiled from the idea. It wasn't just the plug penetrating me causing that. Being spanked by a fellow sub? A naked fellow sub at that, who couldn't even stand up to whack me? Not even the slightest hint of sexuality becoming involved, what with his cock being kept in a chrome chastity device?

That... That would be humiliating. Too humiliating. I wasn't doing it. I couldn't. Instead, I stuck my tongue out at Jake and sashayed to the far side of the couch, showing off my cute ass. My micro-skirt was good for something.

The dangling plastic bulb from the inflatable butt plug whacked me, on the back of my knee. It made me even more embarrassed. My cheeks burned, scarlet, but I put my hands on my hips and tried to look rebellious. It might be pointless, but I just couldn't obey.

"Girl. Be a good little girl, and do what your Mistress says. Or..." Duncan pulled his beard into shape and tapped his thigh with his fingertips. "You'll regret it."

I always regret it. Just not quite enough to make me obedient. Especially not to a naked subby boy where the normal deal is me beating him and making his arse red, not mine.

I stuck my middle finger up at Jake. And then jabbed it towards Duncan.

Jake sucked air through his teeth. His eyes flicked between Cat and Dunc, enchanted by the idea of someone else being the one about to suffer nastily.

Duncan rose. To Cat, he said, "I do apologise for this brat. Clearly, she needs yet another firm lesson."

Cat's scary smile was one I'd only ever seen directed at Jake, previously. "Not at all. It gives me an excuse to be as harsh as I might like. I mean, I might feel guilty, otherwise, hurting someone else's property!"

"Oh, don't worry about that! She needs someone to be really strict and unforgiving with her. I'm probably too lenient."

I nearly called out, 'Yeah, right!' I turned it into a cough.

"No fear. I will not be at all lenient." The formal phrasing reminded me Cat spoke Spanish as well as English. Or was it Catalan? Close enough. "I may need you to help me restrain her. Jacob, pass me those cuffs."

Cat and Duncan took two leather cuffs each, unbuckled them, and converged upon me, one coming round each side of the couch.

I had no escape.

Duncan hissed down at me, "You've embarrassed me, naughty little girl. I hope you weren't expecting this evening to be fun. Because now, it won't be. Well, not for you."

It took almost all my self-control not to swear at him. And every bit of it not to make an obscene gesture at Jake, who was kneeling obediently across the room, grinning at me while our Master and Mistress couldn't see him. Wanker.