The Summerhouse Ch. 16: Stephen

"Oh, sorry," she said with faux-sincerity. "All these bums look alike. So easy to get confused."

Bobby's erection stiffened as Virginia rubbed his unblemished buttocks and gave Heather's partner three sharp smacks of the wooden weapon. "Your boy has a very spankable butt," she complimented Heather.

It was an even game. Every one of us got multiple paddlings by the wooden paddle which Clare exchanged for a cane, and then a tawse, and then a leather strap. For "variety." Heather, who had been hesitant, was laughing and joking and gleefully took delight when she won a hand.

She loved giving the boys "a wee slap" and her behaviour was a world away from the reserved, reticent woman in the pub.

Scott moaned every time Heather or Clare smacked him, and Virginia took delight in teasing him. "Well, what did you expect?" She asked. "The girls on a night out get a little tipsy. Of course it's going to be lewd! You spent an hour with us in the hot-tub. Be grateful! Most men would love that!"

"You've had fun and I've had to take it. You owe me!" He replied and raised his eyebrows at me. "C'mon love, give me a blowjob."

"Oh," Virginia mused and looked at Bobby and then me with a wry smile. "I tell you what girls, why don't we have a game and the boyfriend of the winning woman gets a blowjob." Heather's eyes widened immediately, and she spluttered. "From the other two boyfriends."

"That wasn't what I meant," Scott spat. Virginia smacked him on the backside with her bare hand.

"My partner doesn't do that," Heather whimpered in ignorance.

"Hey, I don't mind," Bobby countered. "I'll take the chance, if everyone else is game!" Heather stared at him, and looked at the facedown cards on the carpet.

Clare shuffled the cards and idly parted them in her hands. "Excellent," Clare cried. "Blowjob Poker is always a good way to end a game of poker."

The three of us watched intently, as women had stoic expressions as they looked at their hand. A wry smile from Clare, or a thoughtful sigh from Heather, said so little. "Three aces," Virginia announced.

"Oh shit, sorry love," Heather mumbled and put her cards on the table.

"Royal Flush," Clare said and giggled at Scott's expression change. "No, King High, but Scott's face was an absolute picture."

Clare unclipped the handcuffs from us, and reattached Scott to the rail, so he was facing the room. He grumbled, but Bobby and I knelt down in front of him and I gripped the base of his solid prick. My partner sat down next to Heather and spoke in a low voice to the captivated Glaswegian. "Watching your partner suck on a cock is always an epic sight. It makes me so very horny. I'm anyone's after watching him wrap his lips around a dick. It's so dirty, but also so sensual. Watch."

Scott's cock fell from my mouth and I made eye contact with Bobby as his lips wrapped around Scott's prick. I whispered to him, like I was guiding the expert cocksucker. Appearances for his fiancée. He groaned into the cock as he swirled his tongue over Scott's head and he slowly bobbed on the dick.

Slow, sensual, gentle motions that teased the arousal from our mutual friend. Bobby gave the nippy winger long, luscious licks and gently sucked on the tip, leaving Scott grunting with pleasure.

I positioned myself underneath the footballer and took one of his smooth balls in my mouth, and sucked gently. Scott's leg buckled, and he grunted.

I could see Heather staring at Bobby. Clare's fingers danced along the nursery worker's inner thigh as the women watched the show. The musky salinity of Scott's balls lingered on the palette and on my nose, buried into his perineum.

I felt his body shudder and his legs weaken. His muscles quivered and with a squeal, he covered Bobby's face with his cum.

Heather didn't allow him to clean up, before dragging him to the spare room where they would be staying. It was next to Clare's room, and we heard the bedsprings working double time ten minutes later. Scott borrowed the dungeon key from Clare, and took Virginia to the spanking bench to even up the score, and I nestled alongside my partner, curled up in the bed and simply cuddled.

Love you," Clare whispered and slid her hand up my thigh. "I could really do with you going down on me," she muttered. "Do the honours, love?"

I did not need to be asked twice.

* * * * *

The following day, Heather emerged from the spare bedroom wrapped in a sheet. Sobriety had caused the return of her inhibitions and her sodden clothes were still too wet to wear. Clare noticed immediately and swore under her breath.

"Heather," my naked fiancée cried, and wrapped her arms around the embarrassed woman. "Let's have some breakfast and then I'll sort you out a spare pair of clothes."

"Oh thanks," Heather muttered, and Clare looked at Bobby skulking behind her in his boxer shorts.

"You know, there is a strict male nudity rule in this house. Men are here to fuck, or here to serve. The lady of the house sometimes puts the boys in maids' uniforms or a variety of unsuitable outfits, but boxer shorts are not, or ever will be, one of them."

Bobby giggled. "Well... When in Rome and all that?"

"Be a love and help Jon make some breakfast." Clare took Heather's hand and led her out onto the covered decking and alongside the hot-tub to a table. "Tea or coffee?"

"Shouldn't we help?"

My fiancée laughed. "What's the point of that? It's like having a pig and oinking yourself. Let them sort it out. Tea or coffee?"

Bobby spied at the two women through the open window as we cooked a dozen sausages, eggs, two dozen rashers of bacon, beans, black pudding, mushrooms, hash browns and toast. Six large fry-ups with tea or coffee that we served while wearing the frilly pink aprons that made us look ridiculous.

Virginia and Scott left shortly after breakfast. Scott had put their clothes out to dry over their en-suite bathroom after he had punished his errant girlfriend in the dungeon and they were dry enough to wear home.

Clare took Heather to her room, and they emerged five minutes later. "This is..."

"No, Bobby, come here," Clare called and interrupted the reticent woman. "What do you think? This is your fiancée." Heather glared at my partner as she stood in a low cut bright red plastic-leather dress that showed half her breasts. It hugged her figure and finished just below her tattoo. "Now, put your hair like this. Doesn't she look sexy?"

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled and nodded, almost speechless.

"I dunnae have the tits for it. I have-ne got anything going on up here."

"You are joking," Clare cried. "You have wonderful breasts. They are a perfect size. B or C cup, right? Like mine."

"And fat thighs!"

"Nonsense," Clare squealed and glared at Bobby. "Do you tell her she has fat thighs and small tits?" He shook his head and her expression darkened. "If I find out that's not true, I will take you to the dungeon and play merry-hell with your balls." She turned back to Heather and ran her hands down the plastic-covered shiny dress, caressing her figure. "OK, let's try something else."

The two women had fun. They went into Clare's bedroom, tried on another outfit that was unsuitable, and Heather wore it to show Bobby, whose erection never wavered.

Fishnet stockings, school girl outfit, sheer tops and lots of lingerie, clubwear and very short skirts were all worn to tease and tempt Heather's partner.

Eventually, they settled on a pinstripe dress that was a little too short and stockings. She still looked sexy, but there was an air of power about her. She threw a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a singlet to Bobby.

Next to each other they looked like chalk and cheese. She could have been his probation officer, and while there was an undercurrent of sexuality about the tailored dress, there was also an unyielding dominance intertwined with her appearance.

"I'll wash it and send it back," Heather promised. "I can't just accept this."

"Rubbish," my fiancée soothed. "It was a present from a rich man I was fucking in Bristol. It's always been too big for me. I just don't have the hips for it, but he got off on having me dress like a secretary and..." She hesitated. "Punish him."

"Oh, really!"

"Well actually, punish him and then stuff his butt with a ten-inch dildo while he promised to stop fiddling his expenses. He loved his role play. But I had to be in business attire. Basically, he looked at what his secretary wore that week and bought a sexier version online. And he didn't always get my size right." She cocked her head at Bobby in his scally gear. "Do you want the strapon as well that goes with it?"

Heather blushed and shook her head. "No!"

"Pity. Your Bobby has such a fuckable arse."

"We better get going. We need to go back to the car."

My naked fiancée embraced the young woman, and I donned similar lounge wear to walk with them to the centre of the village. "Coming?" I asked Clare, and she shook her head.

"Kevin messaged me twenty minutes ago."

"Whose Kevin?"

"The fifth waiter," she said with a grin. "I have a call to make."

Bobby collected all of their personal effects and I walked with them into the village. "Is she really going to... y'know... do it with a stranger?"

"Yeah, of course," I replied. "It's what makes us tick."

"But..." She shook her head. "I would be very upset if Bobby ever touched another woman." She gave her partner a sideways glance and then snorted. "Last night was weird. I've never thought of you with another guy before."

"It seemed to turn you on a bit."

"That was your bloody fiancée. And watching him, but Clare was touching me."

"She does that!" I waited for a moment. "So how was your brief lesbian experience then," I said with a grin.

"She's as mad as a box of frogs, but I enjoyed it as much as Bobby's gay experience." She smiled at her partner. "And I dunnae know how you keep up with her all the ruddy time."

"The trick is, to not do so. She needs a dozen partners a month at least. Only one of them needs to be me. Any more and I would be exhausted." Heather laughed.

When they reached the car, parked on the road opposite the village pub, Heather told Bobby to wait and walked into the local convenience store opposite. "Wow!" Bobby remarked. "That is the most daring thing she has ever worn. And she is choosing to walk into a shop for more people to see her."

"Last night went well," I muttered. "And no, I didn't plan it. Clare might have done, but I don't want to ask her."

"Yeah, thanks, mate." Bobby cried and gave me a pat on the shoulder. "It's good that she knows about my gay interest now. Make it easier for next time. Give her awhile to adjust and then we might have something more open."

"You're always welcome. I have three months with no summerhouse parties soon as the season is ending, so I will need a few trips to the sauna. Heather might let you go!" Bobby's smile flickered as I mentioned it. "Think that might be too much to admit to?"

"Yeah!"

"Baby, incremental steps?" He nodded, and we watched Heather stride out of the little convenience store holding a bottle of water and a newspaper. I waved them off and returned to the house where Clare had stripped naked and was reading her book in the sunshine of the decked terrace.

"Strip!" She needlessly demanded and glanced up from her thriller. "And a cuppa. Show Kevin in, when he gets here."

Her date arrived fifteen minutes later; I had finished cleaning the kitchen and hoovering the lounge, when the loud bell chimed throughout the house.

Kevin appeared a little flustered when a naked man answered the door and beckoned him in. "Clare's expecting you." He appeared younger in the bright sunshine than he did in the pub, and the late-teenager or early twenty-year-old had an innocent air about him. He looked like a young actor, with his white shirt and oversized suit jacket over a lithe frame.

"Um... I thought." His eyes flicked up and down my body and he took a step back from the porch.

"She is expecting you. She's on the decking. Can I get you a drink at all, take your coat?"

He hesitated once more. His eyes floated behind me, and Clare walked purposefully down the hallway. "Kevin, dear. Come in."

"Well, I look... I..." He deliberately averted his eyes.

Clare shook her head and when she reached the frame of of the door, reached over the threshold and pulled Kevin by the front of his shirt. "Get in here," she said firmly as he stumbled into the house. She glanced at me, smacked me on the backside and then turned to her date. "We have an engagement with the hot-tub."

"If I'm interrupting..."

"You're not." Clare pushed him down the hallway and raised her eyebrows at me with a wry smile. Kevin was innocent. He looked at the floor as Clare walked in front of him and hesitated when she reached the hot-tub.

"I have my swimming trunks," he muttered, with an almost hopeful air to his voice.

"You don't need them." She stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes as her fingers unbuttoned his white shirt. She sensually licked her lips and ran her hands across his hairless, slim torso.

She pushed her mouth against his and kissed as her wandering fingers loosened his belt and unclipped the buttons on his trousers.

His tight white briefs were not the most flattering of underwear, and she whispered into his ear as his jeans fell to floor. "Get out of those shoes, get out of those clothes and join me in the hot-tub." She squeezed his buttocks and made him whimper and then backed away from him. She sat on the side of the whirlpool and parted her legs as she kept eye contact with him. "We are going to have a lot of fun this afternoon. Kevin. A lot of fun." She looked at me, stood in the doorway. "One bottle of the Rosé wine, and two glasses."

When I returned to the hot-tub, Kevin's clothes were on the floor and he was underneath the bubbles, directly opposite Clare. She barely looked at me as I opened the pink, fizzy wine and poured two champagne flutes of the alcoholic drink. "My fiancé is a very lucky man. He gets to be with me, even though he doesn't fully satisfy me in the bedroom." Her lips curled into a grin as she looked directly at her date. "So, I get to have fun with other men. He gets a spanking, a caning, and I fuck him in the arse, but real men get pussy. Real men, like you." Kevin fidgeted and Clare clicked her fingers. "You will bring us lunch in one hour, Jon," she commanded, as much for the effect on Kevin than me. She took one of the full glasses from the table and held it out to Kevin, before taking the second and tapping them. "To a most enjoyable afternoon."

I returned to the summerhouse to do some work and set out the outdoor table an hour later with a light lunch of chicken salad, with rustic bread and a half-bottle of wine. Clare shamelessly walked naked to the table. Kevin followed, a lot less reticent about his own nudity. He was lithe and slender, except for his meaty dick. His body was smooth and hairless except for a massive, unkempt bush. He saw me and flashed a smile as he sat down.

"I was telling Kevin all about my fantasies," she said, and poured her date a full glass of wine. "And he won't admit his. Why don't you tell him yours and maybe he will open up?"

"Mine?" I asked her, and she pointed towards the unset chair at the table.

"Yes, about what you want in a woman."

"I want you," I replied instantly, and she rolled her eyes. "I love dominant women. The whips, the chains, the restraints. Taking control and public dominance. A bit of humiliation too and I..." I hesitated and looked at Clare who just nodded. "I... I love pegging. Also I am bisexual so I need an open-minded woman."

"Indeed," Clare interrupted. "But I need an open-minded man. Who lets me be dominant and get my passionate sex from others. So, Kevin. What puts the fizz in your wine?"

He gulped at his drink, and the young waiter shrugged. "I dunno. I just..." He looked at me and nodded. "That stuff, really. I have a subscription to FemDomUniverse and I know that's not what you invited me here for. But women spanking men are..." His cheeks blushed and Clare put her fork on her plate. "It's not what you wanted this afternoon, is it?"

"I didn't expect that," she admitted. "Has any woman spanked you before?"

He sighed. "One of my girlfriends. I paid to visit a couple of dominatrices but it's really expensive. And they did little stuff back there but not much." He stared at his plate and put his fork down. "Sorry. I didn't expect..." He coughed and exhaled sharply. "I'll go."

"Too bloody right," Clare snapped. "You'll go straight down to my dungeon. What sort of domme doesn't want to spank and sodomise silly little boys? But first..." She addressed me with a wicked smile. "Jon, please get Kevin's clothes and empty his pockets. Then put the clothes and dump them in the hot-tub. And clear these plates away. Give us ten minutes. I may give him something to wear back to his house, if he takes his punishment properly." Her lips curled into a smile and she gave me a little wink. "And then I am going to put a strapon around my waist and I will plunder that cheeky little derriere of his."

"Certainly."

Kevin mewed, as she pushed her chair back, took the slice of buttered rustic bread in her mouth and pointed inside the house. "Has any woman ever fucked your arse?"

"No. But I bought a prostate massager. It's... weird."

"Ah," she giggled. "Corrupting young men gets my cunt flowing every time." I knew Clare well enough to know that the wink was a demand not to do what she said. Dumping his clothes in the water was to get into his brain, but I cleared the table and kitchen, and waited. When I descended the steps to the dungeon, Clare had secured Kevin against the St Andrews Frame by the wrist restraints and ankle cuffs, and my fiancee held a leather paddle. "Remember what I told you. Green, if you're OK and I ask. Yellow or Red, if you ever need them. We'll go slow, if you want and build up. Your paid-for dommes should have been through this with you."

"Yes, sure." He muttered, and I sat at the back of the dungeon and watched. It was not the first time I had been an observer in my fiancée's domination of a submissive male, and Kevin was just another notch on her cane.

"Remember, relax," she added as the first strike landed gently on his left buttock. It barely made a slap, and yet it caused the inexperienced man to groan and sigh. Clare hit him again, on his right buttock, and then built a steady rhythm, alternating his buttcheeks with soft, crisp strikes. "OK?"

"Yeah, Green," he squealed. He closed his eyes, and just leaned lifelessly against the frame as my partner paddled him harder and harder. Soft, sensual smacks became firmer, sharper, snappier hits. The cadence changed: the pause between strikes lessened, and Kevin whimpered and groaned. His body tensed and relaxed, and his hands quivered.

Suddenly, this wasn't so easy. These hits were painful and his flesh was no longer warming but ablaze. The blushed buttocks reddened, and his brain fought with his horniness. He wanted it to stop, but his lust wouldn't let him. His squeals and cries changed nothing. These cries were tonic to Clare. His snivelling mewls merely made her more aroused.

Moans turned to sobs and howls of anguish. "Scream and yell if you want," Clare told him. "Down here, nobody can hear you. It'll just turn me on more. Beg for me to stop, go on, I know you want to."

Kevin panted, and she thrashed the paddle hard against his exposed rump. He screeched in shock and pain. She smashed it again and again in quick succession, each dull thud of the wood followed by a shrill bawl of excruciating pain. "Stop," he yelled.

"Stop?" Clare asked. "When I am having so much fun? Then say your safe word. Or else you don't really want me to stop, do you?"