The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica Read Online Free Page B

sure she kept licking, finally slumped back in her chair.
    When she opened her eyes a moment later, Lynette was still crouching on the floor. “Stand up. Bend over. Let me look at your chastened arse, my fallen angel.”
    The girl’s lids fluttered down in embarrassment, but she obeyed. Kay stared at the bent cheeks of pain, at the wet trails of pleasure. “You can go. Your punishment is over. Obviously
I’m trusting you not to transgress again.”
    “I won’t, Miss. I swear!”
    “Good girl. Then go to bed and sleep on your tummy. Tomorrow life will go on as normal.”
    “Yes, Miss Reid.” Lynette walked towards the door with unusually stiffened thighs.
    “And you can pull your nightie down.”
    The girl gingerly smoothed the pale cotton over the crimson hemispheres, “Yes, Miss. And . . . thanks.”
    The door closed. The stairs creaked. After a moment Kay heard the girl go into her room. Then silence. Slowly she got to her feet and struggled her way into her thong and army trousers, her
tissues still tender from Lynette’s surprisingly eager tongue.
    She fingered the wooden spoon. When would she have a chance to use it again? There was this particularly impish twenty-year-old redhead called Jo who’d just started at the Camp as Games
Mistress and who always gobbled her meals and asked for seconds. She must use up lots of calories on the playing fields . . .
    Kay smiled as she buffed the hard, punishing oval of the spoon against her spank-pinkened fingers. It was only a matter of time before Jo made an illicit midnight trip to the kitchen. She
wondered how much of a thrashing a well-exercised bum could bear before it turned scarlet and its owner began to beg.

 
    Tyneside Ladies’ Night
    Charlotte Matthews
    It was the usual women-only night – the company doesn’t allow mixed parties – and they’d asked me to bring the whole catalogue. Now they were looking at
a blow-up doll.
    “Eeh, it’s disgustin’,” said Irene, a tarty woman in a tight red dress. “All them holes!”
    “Aye,” said Jeanette, the hostess, whose skirt was too short to completely conceal the tops of her stockings. “It’s even got a hole in the, you know, the back passage.
What’s that for then, Pauline?”
    “Anal intercourse,” I said.
    “She means takin’ it up the arse,” said Irene’s daughter, Karen, even tartier than her mother in the kind of micro-mini known locally as a fanny-pelmet.
    “What?” said Kathy, the quietest of the group. “You mean they . . .” She looked shocked.
    They all laughed and Rene, a rough looking woman who looked older than the rest, said, “Aye, Kathy pet, they stick their things up your bum!”
    “Eeh, I’ve never heard o’ that,” said Jeanette. She looked so shocked that they all laughed again.
    “Oh, it’s quite common,” said Karen. “Some people like it more than the other way,” and she looked meaningfully at her friend, Sharon, who blushed bright red.
    “Ah, come on,” said Karen. “You’re not so shy when you’re out with the lasses on a Friday night.”
    “That’s different,” hissed Sharon.
    “Eeh, Sharon pet,” said Jeanette. “Is that right? You let them . . . you know . . . do it from the back?”
    “Sometimes,” said Sharon, glaring at Karen.
    Kathy was fascinated. “And is it . . . does it . . . how does it feel?”
    “It feels great,” said Sharon defiantly.
    I thought it was time to step in. “It is quite common,” I said. “There’s even a special range of vibrators if you like it that way.”
    I held up the Derriere Demon, popularly known as the Arse-Bandit, a long thin vibrator with a swollen end. I switched it on and handed it to Kathy. She felt it shuddering in her hand and quickly
passed it on to Sharon, who tried to appear casual, but couldn’t disguise the pink flush that appeared on her neck and chest.
    “Well, what about them little nozzles on the boobies then?” said Jeanette.
    There was a moment’s silence. “Oh,