Leaning on the Lamppost

"So that's why they call 'em big swinging dicks!" Crowed Christine as Nigel's penis swung down limply between his legs.

Hanging there naked and exposed to the ridicule of this group of vengeful girls Nigel swam in a drunken maelstrom of emotions; humiliation, shame and hurt mingled inexplicably with odd feelings of arousal and sexual excitement. He had felt the same strange emotions when at school he had been bent over the arm of the headmaster's big leather armchair and been submitted to a severe caning. Afterwards the other boys had crowded around in the dormitory and vicariously demanded to see the angry welts on his naked buttocks as proof of how many strokes he'd taken, and Nigel had derived a guilty gratification from the humiliation of it all.

"You liked that didn't you, posh boy! Us girlies in control!?" Emma joined in, she had noticed the signs of arousal in Nigel's eyes, had recognised her own and was becoming quite feral.

Stacey was shocked, she had hoped Emma would be more mature than this, although even she was finding herself unable to look away and couldn't quite bring herself to intercede.

"I'll bet he'll like this even more!" Continued Emma, who suddenly pulled up her top, pushed down her bra and presented Nigel with an unrestricted view of her two pendulous pale breasts.

"Wanna suck?" she pinched her large red nipples and offered one to Nigel

Nigel's penis twitched and sensing his internal struggle the girls decided to escalate the game.

Christine turned, flicked her skirt up her back and presented Nigel with her pert thong clad bottom. She wriggled seductively and taunted him over her shoulder.

"Bet you'd like to take me up the arse, wouldn't you? Better than buggering those little boys in the showers at school! I can suck that juicy cock for you first if you want!"

Nigel's penis was still only reluctantly beginning to show signs of the desired response and Rose, the most inebriated of the group decided to go one step even further still. She stood right in front of Nigel and looking him straight in the eyes started to unzip the trousers of her pant suit. With a flourish she undid The Catch and let them fall to her knees, revealing a tiny pair of see-through panties. Nigel's eyes were drawn inexorably down to the unmistakable patch of black curly hair barely contained by them. Rose smiled with satisfaction at this and licked her fingers slowly and then lowered her hand to insert it under the elastic. She closed her eyes in feigned ecstasy and Nigel could see her fingers parting the hair and working away between her legs which she opened, moaning, and breathily whispering.

"Oh Nigel, Thrust your throbbing cock deep in my wet cunt! I want to feel your hot cum inside me!"

Nigel's cock unsteadily rose erect, and this was greeted with a cacophony of cheers.

"Go girl! You'll have to finish him off now!"

Rose quickly pulled up her pants and triumphantly reached forward to grab Nigel's traitorously stiff cock. She pulled her hand back in mock shock, flapping it in the air as if it needed cooling down.

"Oooh you're so hot baby, let me release a bit of that tension for you!"

With that she started forcefully and determinedly to wank him off to shouts of,

"Up... Down... Up... Down... Up.. Down.. up, down, up, down, up, down... Here we go, here we go, here we go!"

"Here he comes!"

Nigel shuddered and a milky jet of semen shot out of his abused cock onto the pavement and little aftershocks splattered and dribbled onto his boxer shorts and trousers.

"You dirty fucker!" Rose exclaimed in theatrical disgust, wiping her hand on his chest. The others cackled in delight,

"Leave him alone!" Stacey's commanding voice cut through the merriment.

She had seen enough; She brushed the others aside and reached to pull up Nigel's boxer shorts and then his trousers. Despite protestations from Rose and Christine and exasperation from Emma, she went behind the lamppost and undid the tie and belt, handing them back to Nigel who was massaging his wrists and looking at her with shame faced gratitude. He pulled his shirt and jacket back on and threaded the belt through his trousers.

Stacey noticed he had a couple of buttons missing from his shirt and had buttoned it up wrongly. She helped him get the buttons straight, in an unconsciously tender and motherly way.

The other girls watched in disappointment and Stacey turned to them.

"Go home, you've had your fun. I'll see you back at work. Monday"

She knew she wouldn't but didn't care.

She turned to the bedraggled and crushed Nigel.

"Sorry...." He whispered pitifully.

He looked like he was about to be sick. He had now missed his last train home: his head was beginning to hurt, and his clothes were a mess. Much though it went against her better judgement, Stacey felt responsible, for the way the other girls had behaved. She really should have nipped all that in the bud.

Nigel groaned, staggered to the kerb, and threw up, splattering his shirt and jacket with barely digested lager. He turned to Stacey weakly and apologised again.

"No, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that." She consoled him.

She walked him further down the street to the main road and hailed a cab. bundling Nigel into the back. She felt a strange protective warmth toward the bedraggled and humbled young man, and he was certainly in no fit state to look after himself.

-----

She opened the door to her small flat and deposited the dishevelled but now slowly sobering-up Nigel on the sofa whilst she hurriedly knocked up two strong coffees and found a packet of painkillers.

Numerous cups of coffee later and with a plethora of apologies he had recounted the whole story.

Over a silly rugby game years ago at school? These guys never cease to amaze me! She reflected sadly.

"So, where are you from Nigel? Some posh country pile? Mater and Pater pack you off to some la-di-da boarding school and you end up working with a bunch of over-entitled knobheads at a crappy little bank?" She wanted to know more about her new stray.

"Gizza break, I'm not fucking posh. I'm from a two-up two-down, rented house in Ilford. It was mum's idea to send me to boarding-school; she thought it would turn me into a gentleman, learn me some manners and toughen me up!" He laughed weakly. The coffee and painkillers kicking in.

"Fat chance of that happening, I'd be fucking brown bread by now if I hadn't picked up the lingo and been able to run like the clappers!" Nigel continued, abandoning any attempt at affectation, and starting more to echo Stacey's own accent.

"Oh, and 'Pater'? Me dad? He was in 'Nam!" The real Nigel was opening up after years of faking it.

"Vietnam? In the army? Fucking Hell!" Stacey was amazed at both the information and the transformation of its delivery.

"Nah, you muppet! Dagenham! Poor sod assembled cars for Ford in a shitty factory!"

She laughed and revelation after revelation followed until she finally turned and grabbed some covers from the other room returning to indicate the sofa.

"Better get some kip, you need to sleep off that hangover and, in the morning, grab a shower, you smell like a fucking polecat!"

"Cheers, thanks for this. I really need to get my head straight!" He gave her a warm grateful smile and was asleep before she reached the bedroom.

-----

SATURDAY

Introductions.

She woke late and smelling cooking, threw on a robe and came out into the living room where, in the corner that served as a kitchen, he was standing at the stove in clean but mismatched clothes. His suit had been shovelled into an Oxfam carrier bag, and he appeared to be freshly showered.

"Charity shop on the corner. Nipped out early." He explained the odd selection of clothing, as she peered over his shoulder to see bacon and eggs and sliced tomatoes frying in a pan and a small saucepan of baked beans on another hob.

"Did I have all that?" She was surprised, the contents of her fridge were a mystery to her.

"No, your refrigerator was a complete disaster darling! I grabbed some supplies from the corner shop. I hope you don't mind. They didn't have any Quail's eggs and Harrods hasn't done deliveries out her in the sticks for yonks. I just thought you'd fancy a spot of breckers!"

"Well done! I say, jolly good show! That's positively tickety-boo. One had to let the staff go and what with the rolls being on the blink, it's all been a frightful nightmare!" She replied.

They looked at each, burst out laughing and agreed to give up the posh talk for once and for all.

They ate the breakfast, talking incessantly and knocking back coffees and then she left him doing the washing up whilst she went to shower. Neither had really thought about what would happen next.

She emerged from the shower twenty minutes later and found him sitting on the sofa looking depressed and morosely staring into space. She sat down next to him and touched him lightly on the arm.

"What's the matter? You look sad." She asked concerned

"Me mum and dad, what am I going to tell them? They were so proud of me, but I'm not going back to that bloody bank. I'm fucked!" He looked like he was about to burst into tears. She felt an overwhelming tenderness for him at that moment and put her arm around him.

"Just tell them the truth, that it's not really you. Hell, I'm not going back either. I'm supposed to be off now until Wednesday but I'm going to look for another job. You could too."

He looked into her eyes. She had let her hair down, a glorious tumble of copper red, she was wearing no makeup and he saw freckles and luminous emerald eyes. He realised how much prettier she was then than he'd ever realised at the office. Why had he never noticed that before? He felt a sudden affinity with this girl, and he knew it had absolutely nothing to do with banking. On an impulse, and with his inhibitions shrilling alarm sirens, he kissed her.

She pulled back and studied him intensely, desperately trying to read his motives.

"Oh God, sorry, I didn't...." He blushed, why the fuck had he done that?

"Oh, shut up!" She said decisively and catching him totally by surprise pushed him back on the sofa. Her mouth found his again and her tongue searched hungrily for his. Frantically she stripped off his clothes and he fumbled clumsily to unravel her bathrobe. To his delight, she was completely naked underneath. She smelt absolutely delicious and as he explored her body, he was thrilled and to be honest, slightly shocked, to find she was freshly shaved with a beautifully plump mound and long deep cleft. Her breasts were just the right size and at their peaks the nipples had already swollen and stiffened. He sat up and reached for them, sucking, and pulling on them with his lips. Again, she pushed him back and now lowered her head onto his cock, teasing him in ways he hadn't imagined possible. He wrapped his arms around her, and they rolled off the sofa and landed in a naked tangle of limbs on the floor. She recovered his cock but despite her gargled protests he reluctantly extricated it, laid her back on the floor, and explored every inch of her body with his lips, his tongue finding all her secret little places and his fingers probing deep inside her warmth. He mounted her, but she rolled him over and straddled him. After a short struggle, he succumbed to her needs.

Reaching between her legs she took his cock firmly in her hand and brushing its head gently against the dangling pink lips guarding the entrance to her vagina, slowly guided it inside her. As he lay back and abandoned any attempt at resistance, she sank down onto him slowly engulfing his cock with a warm comforting wetness. He felt the weight of her body focussing on his groin and revelled in its welcome.

She laughed suddenly.

"I knew I could make you come around to the idea of a woman being on top!"

"I just want to make you come! Around, top, bottom any which way you want!" He retorted, and shortly afterwards both of them did.

She lay across him with his hands stroking her gorgeously round little bottom and her toying with his still semi-erect cock. Suddenly with a cheeky grin she asked.

"So, was that better than being given a hand job by Rose?" Immediately regretting her question as she saw a strange look flare in his eyes. Without warning his hand descended on her bare buttock with a resounding SMACK!

Nigel was immediately contrite.

"Oh God, sorry, I didn't mean..."

Stacey smiled at him comfortingly.

"It's ok. I don't mind, No, that's wrong..." She looked confused and he hovered in a guilty limbo

"It's very Nice, I like it. Oh, fuck it! Do it again... but harder. HURT Me!" She groaned at the inadequacy of words to express what she was feeling.

He did and when her bottom was a red mass of overlapping handprints he bent and kissed her on every glowing, burning square inch. He knew then she was his, and she felt again truly loved.

They spent the morning lying on the floor just fucking and talking. Somehow, they ended up gravitating to her bedroom where they lay entwined in her single bed and shared all the things, they had never told anyone else. She told him about her father and how he used to spank her.

"Not in an angry way but in a, well, very formal way that made her me feel special. He used to cuddle me afterwards and apologise. I loved that"

Nigel told her about being caned at school and how the other boys would treat him like a hero afterwards.

"It made me special too, like I was tougher than them, invincible!"

"Last night leaning on the lamppost was weird... I, sort of enjoyed having no control, being humiliated, being totally in someone else's hands,"

"Rose's?" She just couldn't resist!

"Oh, fuck right off!" He laughed.

They shared every little intimate detail about themselves and when they had told each other everything, they made love again and fell asleep wrapped in a sticky rapport.

Sometime mid-afternoon he suddenly jumped to his feet in a panic.

"Shit! I've got to go home!" She looked at him scared

"Have I done something wrong?" She asked, he seemed so flustered.

"NO! Of course not! I have to grab some clothes; I'm supposed to see my parents tomorrow and I can't go like this."

"Naked?" She asked appreciatively eyeing his still attentive cock and laughing

"Mum would have a fit!" he agreed, and then with worry crossing his face added.

"Is it alright if I come back here, ... tonight?" He asked, unsure of her response.

"Just make bloody sure you DO come back! I haven't finished with you yet!" She said sternly but affectionately.

Nigel made the round trip to Tonbridge in record time and returned just after seven in the evening with a rucksack of fresh clothes and some badly wrapped gifts for his mum.

That evening he cooked her a meal out of the out of date tins and scraps she had in the cupboard and naked again they did the washing up together,

"So..." She had been waiting for the opportunity to ask this and really wasn't sure how it would be received.

"Can I come with you tomorrow? I can help explain about the bank and you said your mum always wanted to know whether you had a girlfriend?"

Nigel was stunned. It was he thought, far too soon and yet it just, well, felt right.

"Do you really want to be my... girlfriend?" He asked clumsily and incredulously, afraid the question would be misconstrued.

"Of course, after what you've done to me and what I plan to do to you I think that's the deal. I didn't just plan on just fucking you and then tying you back up against that lamppost you know!"

"I'd love you to come with me!" Nigel realised that was the truth, he could really do with her support, and he knew Stacey and Betty would get on like a house on fire.

"Right so that just leaves the one thing that needs resolving." She said curiously with a nervous but wicked gleam in her eyes. Her heart was pounding with excitement. She just had to know Nigel had been honest about what he had told her.

Nigel gulped; for some reason her announcement was making his stomach do somersaults.

Stacey went into the bedroom and came back after a seemly interminable period, completely transformed. She was dressed, if that could be considered the correct term, in tight shiny black panties, hold up stockings, and a maroon satin corset that pushed her breasts upwards so that the nipples thrust erectly over the top. What made the outfit more curious was the black gown wrapped around her shoulders and the mortar board on her head. She was carrying the small black case that snooker players carry their cues in, but some inner instinct told Nigel that it did not contain a snooker cue!

"Smith!" She barked.

"Er yes" Nigel's school conditioning meant he immediately responded to the calling out of his surname.

"Yes what? Smith?" Stacey commanded.

"Yes Miss!" Nigel's programming kicked in.

"Better. It has been brought to my attention that you still have some chauvinist tendencies that require thrashing out." Nigel winced.

"Yes Miss!"

"I intend to rectify that, starting with six of the very best. If you would care to bend over that chair. I will proceed."

She indicated the armchair in the corner of the room, and in a compliant daze, Nigel walked over to it and placing his hands on the furthest arm, bent over presenting his bare buttocks to Stacey. He was terrified but also surprisingly thrilled. Was this really what he had secretly always wanted?

Stacey's mind was in complete turmoil. She was, she had to admit to herself enjoying the role but knew that at the first sign of resistance by Nigel the whole thing would unravel, the spell would be broken, and they both would just be so totally embarrassed it could well destroy their new and fragile relationship.

Please God she thought, let this be what he wants, I have to do this right.

She'd shot into town minutes after he had left and had headed straight down to Soho. After a few false starts she had found a small discrete shop, specialising in fetish wear and related paraphernalia. Here she had bought a variety of items that were, she hoped of a better quality than the cheap, strictly fancy-dress tat she could get locally. She had even bought a few items that she might, possibly, let him try out on her! Clutching the carrier bag with its incriminating logo she had travelled back to Mile End on the tube desperately trying to bundle the bag into her lap, her mind a writhing whirlwind of images and fantasies. Oh God, please let him come back to me she'd thought.

The sound of The Catch on the case being opened caught Nigel by surprise, but the swish of the cane slicing through the air was all too familiar and his stomach knotted, and his legs threatened to buckle. She had instinctively taken a practice stroke to unnerve him. It worked. He clenched his buttocks, not hearing the all too real swish until after the burning sting of the blow had already started to etch its familiar parallel tracks into the flesh of his buttocks. He made a soft exhalation of breath that only just stopped short of a cry.

"One!" He said submissively.

Stacey nodded her approval behind him. After all she reminded herself, the victim having to count the strokes was the accepted protocol. Good. He was going to comply. She was also, she noticed, getting incredibly wet.

She continued with even spaced intervals between the strokes, sadistically pleased with the way the welts were perfectly parallel and an even colour.

"Six, thank you Miss" Nigel said quietly, his little cries after each stroke had increased slightly in volume but otherwise, he seemed to have taken it well.

As she finished the final stroke, she placed the cane on the floor removed the gown and mortarboard and ran to him, noticing with gratification that his cock was fully erect. She kneeled and started kissing the angry marks on his buttocks, wrapping her arms around him to stroke his cock.