Buggered And Severely Spanked
In the faux-Victorian and badly over-written erotica novel The Blue Train by Richard Manton, there’s a totally noncon account of an afternoon’s cruel enjoyment of a young woman on her way to a old-fashioned penal institution. Under the most amazingly-contrived circumstances, our viewpoint villain arranges to impersonate a guard and isolate his helpless victim in a shared toilet compartment on a train:
In the toilet itself, one of the guards had left his peaked cap and his jacket on the hook, an official-looking leather despatch-case beside them. Quietly I opened the case. Inside it I saw a collection of leather restraining straps, a tailed spanking-strap, and a file of documents. I stared at these and with a half-formed plan lifted down the prison guard’s cap and jacket. Indeed, I carried them off to my own cabin.
The toilet itself had two doors and each could be bolted from within, so that the occupant was secure from intrusion by a neighbour. I studied the bolt on my side and saw how, by loosening the screws a little, it could be moved out of line and prevented from sliding across.
Then I waited. Presently my heart jumped as if with shock or a fright of anticipation. The far door of the wash-room and toilet opened and closed. I heard the slither of cloth on skin. The bolt on my side had not even been closed as I entered, clad in the jacket and cap of officialdom.
There are stories I look back upon with excitement and some with longing but few with such amusement as this. I felt like a character in a stage farce. Ragnhild had shed her tartan blouse and blue shorts. She was now undressed charmingly in her white bra and tight black bikini pants.
We stared at one another. I had no idea what to do if she resisted now. I suppose I should have stripped off the cap and jacket, fled from my cabin to the far end of the train, and got off quickly at the next stop. But I had calculated that the noise of the engine would make it impossible for those in the corridor to hear anything in this place. In that I was right. Nor would there be any interruptions. They might enter the other cabin but the door to it from the toilet was bolted. They would know she was in here but would not care.
As I say, Ragnhild would still have had no escape except through my cabin and they would catch her in the corridor when she emerged. She certainly had no way off a train travelling at this speed.
All the same, she backed away and when I was close she seemed prepared to struggle.
But they had prevented her escape another way, by cuffing her wrists in front of her with soft straps. Of course, I was surprised that she did not begin to scream or shout. Then I realised. She had seen the uniform and thought I was another one of the escort.
Stand still, Ragnhild! I said sharply, playing the part. She stood still, though with a surly look. Kneel down. There! At once!
She offered a little resistance but not much, knowing that one guard could always call assistance from the others. Under these circumstances, I was a match for her. There was gasping, writhing and cursing but we descended to the floor, at least until Ragnhild was kneeling. Then I drew a stout strap from the case, ran it round her wrist-cuff chain and round the base of the toilet pedestal. Struggle as she might, Ragnhild was now face-down on the floor and could not get up. She looked extremely sexy, even in such a place. She had the sun-tanned thighs of a young Amazon. The full cheek-swell of Ragnhild’s bottom in the filmy black nylon of her hip panties looked very sexy. There was also something perversely exciting in the prospect of being alone with her behind a locked washroom door in this situation.
I had bolted the door leading to her cabin, so that we should not be interrupted. Then I used a leather bolster from my own cabin and wedged it under her belly on the tiled floor.
Lie on your belly over the bolster, Ragnhild. Lie quietly. At the first sound of crying out or screaming, I shall gag you. Very tightly.
The threat of a gag seemed to strike her like a blow. She lay startled but quiet. I was seduced by the warmly suntanned figure of a healthy young Nordic woman, the lank honey-blonde hair plainly cut with its fringe and its collar-length framing her firm features. The law forbids whipping and even spanking for girls in the country she comes from, so I think Ragnhild still was not certain of what was going to be done to her. She lay there, her handsome tits filling the white bra quite nicely at the front. She lay forward with the leather bolster under her belly, her suntanned arms pulled in front of her and her robust legs apart a little.
She looked up, wide blue eyes frightened, as I knelt down and made her more secure with several more prison straps. I strapped her wrists more firmly to the porcelain pedestal, pinioning her waist as well to a strong leather loop in the bolster, just under her belly. Ragnhild was now positioned as I wanted her.
Her legs were still free and, of course, she could still twist and turn her hips a little. She might even push her backside up by straining hard on the loop through which her waist-strap ran. But she must lie bottom-upwards over the bolster for as long as I chose. At any time I could control her struggles by a tight strap round her lower thighs and an ankle-pinion. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ragnhild’s honey-blonde hair slide across her face as she twisted her head, looking up and watching me.
I sat down on the floor beside her and ran my hand down the warm silky suntan of her back.
I’m sure you know all about sex, don’t you, Ragnhild? I’d be surprised if you haven’t experimented with your boy-friends by now! You’ve healthy female appetites, I think. I’m going to put you to the test. Lie still.
I examined her knickers. Ragnhild’s glossy black nylon panties had a frilled top round her hips which dented the soft suntanned flesh a little. The black nylon was pulled skin-taut by a black elastic hem which curved out to either side from the rear parting of her legs and arched up on either side over the cheeks of her robust arse. Ragnhild’s panties were suggestively sexy! She was certainly well-built, I suppose, her thighs and hips well-exercised but without surplus fat. In her present posture, Ragnhild looked quite big-bottomed, but only in that way that athletic young women often do.
Of course I should take her knickers down to whip her. For the moment, I could put her to the test better while she wore them.
Keep your legs apart, Ragnhild, I murmured, Let them lie apart like that.
Between her legs, the thin black nylon tightly moulded a soft swell of her cunt-flesh. When my finger touched it, Ragnhild gasped as if she had stung herself.
I’m going to masturbate you first, Ragnhild. Lie still for it. Legs apart.
Her legs closed and she tried to twist on her side. Then she stopped squirming and eased her legs apart. I bowed over her and very gently pressed my fingers over the soft warm bulge of her sex in the tight nylon. She tensed but did not resist otherwise.
Ragnhild turned the honey-blonde of her head, half-looking over her shoulder. It was as if she wanted to see what was happening, as well as feel it, but had not quite the courage to do so! You may be sure it was not the first time she had been handled in such a way. She came from a place where young women are taught to put their interests before those of the male and to court such self-centred pleasures quite flagrantly. She needed discipline to bring her to her senses.
I reached to the hand basin, where she had left a tube of toothpaste with her other washing things. There was a hot pungent peppermint scent as I unscrewed the cap of the tube. I squeezed a little of the white cream on to my fingers. My hand slid inside the waistband of the black nylon bikini pants at the rear and found the warm light-haired folds of sexual flesh between the rear of her thighs. She tensed and flinched as my finger tips smoothed the pungent cream into the sensitive folds of her cunt. It made Ragnhild smart and squirm, yet teased and excited her at the same time while she was being roused. Before you raise your hands in horror at her ordeal, let me tell you that her reactions revealed her moral character. They suggested that Ragnhild masturbated herself regularly and probably had it done by a lover, either through her panties or with his hand inside them.
I drew my hand out and began to manualise her soft sexual flesh through the thin black nylon, moulding, fondling, stroking, squeezing gently. There was tension in her strong thighs and the smooth suntanned sweep of her back. The seat of her black bikini briefs was so tight that it was drawn deep between the robust cheeks of Ragnhild’s arse. She tensed her bottom as I masturbated her through the thin nylon film, her rear cheeks pressing together and then relaxing as if she was trying to hold the pleasure in her loins and backside.
In the excitement of riding to her orgasm, Ragnhild was able to push the smart of the cream to the back of her mind. It increased her sensitivity and even heightened the intensity of her arousal.
I curbed Ragnhild’s resistance, imposing my mastery upon her by masturbating her against her will until she climaxed. I wanted to ensure that any sexy feelings the Scandinavian Amazon might have were worked out of her system. The leather slave-band on her left ankle also suggested that Ragnhild had been masturbated by her boy-friend’s hand in her pants during secret moments of passion. She would now respond easily, if unwillingly!
My fingers on the thin black nylon tantalised her smarting but excited folds of intimate flesh. Soon she was wet with arousal and the glossy nylon shone with it. I had never seen a woman dew herself as Ragnhild did then. Even when she submits to her husband on their honeymoon night, Ragnhild will never be more passionate and excited as a bride than she was then. She writhed and wallowed over the leather bolster, shuddering at the smarting yet tantalising caress. She came with rising cries, turning side to side, legs crossed violently to imprison the moment of climax between them for ever.
She shuddered and lay still. But now the excitement was over. Yet the suntanned blonde still felt the smarting heat of the peppermint creaminess that had been worked into the warm folds of her cunt. Though it was not enough to make her cry out, the shifting and tensing of her robust sun-golden thighs betrayed the discomfort. I allowed her to squirm like this for several minutes while I watched her. I squeezed a little more of the cream on to my fingers. I smoothed it into those flesh-folds without fondling her, ensuring that she was teased by it during the events that followed.
I’ll take your panties down now, Ragnhild. I’m sure you know that your kind sometimes gets their bare bottoms thrashed quite sadistically in the place you’re being taken to now.
My hands fumbled at her waist as I went to pull down her black-nylon panty-briefs. The smooth tightness of her black swimming pants shaped the full swell of Ragnhild’s backside, broadened and fattened by her posture. She had struggled hard in her orgasm. This had caused the elastic hem of her briefs to ride up at one side, laying bare more of the pale fattened crescent on the lower curve of that bottom-cheek! It was amusing to see her in this state of disordered undress.
I took the waistband of her tight black panties and drew them down. The pale cheek-flesh of Ragnhild’s bottom swelled a little fuller as the tightness of the slinky black nylon was drawn clear. I studied the swelling pallor of her bare rear cheeks.
As any moralist might have done before punishing her, I bowed my head over her and inspected this profoundly exciting rear view. There was time to fondle the slight heaviness of her pale thighs. She gasped and protested but I smiled to reassure her.
Presently I’ll use the strap across your bare bottom, Ragnhild. I’m going to enjoy it and I’m sure I shall have to unbutton myself and show you my excitement while I spank you.
I was already bursting in the tightness of my suiting and obliged to unbutton in front of her, manhood fully armed.
A big-bottomed tart of your sort needs a taste of the strap, Ragnhild, before she’s caned!
Her protest was part a gasp and part a cry. I heard the leather bolster shift as she pulled at her straps.
Lie properly bottom-upwards over the bolster, Ragnhild! Right over it! Tighter than that!
I smiled as I was confronted by the fattish pallor of Ragnhild’s broadened buttocks. I gave her a sounding smack with the tailed strap on the nearer cheek of her bare backside and then another lusty smack on the same one. The impact stung her enough to make her squirm and curse in the strongest language imaginable. Even this was gratifying, in my present mood, and I avenged the insults by a little teasing.
You’ll get the reformatory cane afterwards, Ragnhild. But first I must employ that impudent backside of yours for another purpose. This is what you shall feel behind you first, Ragnhild! Have a good look at it, by all means.
To ease my stiff penis in the tightness of Ragnhild’s bottom would be the most blatant criminal act in her own country, where feminine dignity rules all. But in the present situation I might do as I pleased with this pretty criminal. Frosted light shone on the pallor of her sturdy hips, thighs and rear cheeks.
I knelt over her and gave my close attention to Ragnhild’s arse-anatomy, her robust thighs, and all that could be glimpsed between them. My fingers and my lips, even my tongue, were busy upon her rear aspect. I fondled and fiddled with her as the prelude to an ample pressing of warm passion-juice in her insolent backside. Ragnhild craned round at me, shaking the hair clear of her face at intervals, as if trying to watch me as I played with her.
I handled the full pallor of Ragnhild’s bottom-cheeks, parting them and prying into the rude rear valley between them. I ran my hands over her smooth bare thighs and pressed their softness apart to examine the intimate feminine flesh which they concealed. Having coaxed and kissed these warm folds, I allowed her firmly-strapped legs to close over it again. My lips touched the pale mounds of her broad buttocks and browsed upon them. A dozen times I paused and gave her a smack on one of her hind cheeks to relieve my feelings.
My attention wandered to the heavy pallor of her thighs, then to her broadened backside once more. I parted its cheeks and enjoyed a long close inspection of the tightly-closed little blow-hole between them. Ragnhild uttered a sound of rejection in her throat and flinched as I applied a series of pouting kisses.
Ignoring such protests, I rewarded her vulgarity with my own, settling down and applying my lips to her there in a long series of suggestive kisses while her bottom-cheeks brushed my face as she tensed and squirmed.
I drew away from her at last and stood up. She still watched me over her shoulder as I prepared myself, while her bare rear cheeks surged and squirmed unavailingly. To curb this resistance, I smacked her buttocks hard and repeatedly for a minute or two. She was squirming and panting by the time I finished.
She cried out in dismay and protest as I took her black nylon bikini briefs, wet them under the tap, compressed them, wadded her mouth with them and secured them with a gag-strap between her teeth which buckled behind her neck. Her dismay grew to panic when I took the uncapped tube of the toothpaste with its strong peppermint odour. I inserted the nozzle in Ragnhild’s anus. I squeezed the tube hard and heard her gasp at the sudden scorching surge of the cream. The rather heavy-cheeked swell of Ragnhild’s behind was now my object of interest. She compressed the cheeks and tensed herself, caught between ladylike reticence and a desperate need to be rid of the smarting heat of the cream. I ignored this and prepared her for her ordeal.
I knelt behind her, kneeling astride so that I could look down and watch my penis engulfed in Ragnhild’s full-cheeked bottom. The hammerhead knocked for admission at the tight rear portal.
Lie right over the bolster, Ragnhild!
There were protests and a brief moment of shrillness. But my own determination was stronger than any resistance. The smarting cream served to lubricate her arse-hole. For Ragnhild it was a smarting internal ordeal. For me, it excited the penis and could be washed off easily afterwards. With a resolute thrust I felt the most delicious tightness entrap my swelling manhood. At once I pressed to the hilt and heard the sudden alarm in her muffled exclamations. I made my triumphal ride with a steady rhythm — from time to time pausing, not wishing such enjoyment to be over too quickly. It was almost half an hour before I felt I could be denied no longer. I was quite out of my senses as I discharged my piece, determined only that it should be in the very depths of Ragnhild’s backside.
It was exciting to ride her in this way. When the moment came she and I both felt the hot squirt of sperm in Ragnhild’s bottom. She naturally tensed at the feel of it deep inside her, in such a place, and I saw the bare flanks of her hips hollow a little as she did so.
Lie still, Ragnhild, I gasped, Keep your big-cheeked bottom still while you’re getting the sperm in your behind.
I felt sure it was the first time she had felt the pulse of a man’s sperm discharging inside her. Getting it in her bottom like this was something she would always remember. She turned her head aside, the fringed honey-blonde collar-length of her lank hair slipping forward a little. With her sun-tanned body face-down over the bolster, there was a pensive and almost self-pitying look in the firm open appeal of her face. Her arse was stretched in its grip round the tool, her bottom receiving the squirts of sperm in a place where its other functions caused her some embarrassment in the presence of a man. Then the discharge of my passion in so rude a place made her hide her face altogether. But she was well able to take it. I made no attempt to spare her blushes.
She had good reason to tense and compress those cheeks now. Her arms were pulled out, wrists cuffed round the base of the porcelain pedestal, her bare legs and thighs were not restrained. She was naked now apart from her white bra, her lightly suntanned legs resting apart a little.
Perhaps Ragnhild imagined that her ordeal was over but the journey had more than an hour to go.
Never had your bare bottom disciplined before, Ragnhild? You’ll get a training session now. The spanking-strap across your bare bottom-cheeks. Lie still for it.
There is an art in punishing a sturdy miscreant of this kind. She gave a muted yell of protest as I took the toothpaste tube again, Ragnhild frantically trying to roll over on her side or on her back. But I held her on her belly over the bolster, inserted the nozzle of the tube up Ragnhild’s arse and squirted an egg-sized dollop of the harsh smarting cream as deep in her bottom as I could. Then, without further preliminary, I took the spanking-strap from the case and brought it down hard, aiming low. The pale cheek-swell of her bottom was a fine target. I caught Ragnhild beautifully, not an inch above the light flesh crease dividing her seat-cheeks and upper thighs. Her gasp rose to a short gagged cry as the smart of the impact swelled.
Lie tighter over the bolster, Ragnhild! Better than that, you little slut!
The second smack of the strap caught her just where the first had done, low down on the cheeks of her behind. I was gratified to hear the leather sing out sharp as a ringmaster’s whip, low across the pale fatness of Ragnhild’s buttocks. I guessed those two swelling and burning imprints of the strap must be smarting dreadfully across her bare bottom-cheeks.
Ragnhild was clenching her teeth on the gag-strap desperately as she waited for the next one. Her wide blue eyes betrayed the first sign of tears. She looked at the strap in my hand and then with alarm and renewed fascination at the returning stiffness of my unbuttoned penis. She looked and gnawed anxiously at her lower lip. I could see her hands clenching into desperate fists and her rear cheeks shifting and tensing.
I trailed the strap lightly and teasingly over the tightening and cheek-creasing swell of Ragnhild’s bottom.
Then she got six smacks of leather across that lower curve of her behind and it was necessary to chide her muffled screams.
You’re not a child any longer, Ragnhild. Let’s see how you like the strap across the backs of those bare tomboy thighs!
I gave her four and I thought she would have burst my ear-drums in retaliation, if she not had her own panties stuffed in her mouth as a gag.
The face she turned showed a downward howling mouth and eyes brimming over. I trailed the strap aslant her squirming buttocks and gave her six strokes, this way and that. The full bare cheeks of Ragnhild’s bottom surged and writhed so far as her straps permitted, like the rear view of a belly-dancer.
There was a wild protest and I heard the squeak of strained leather as she squirmed unavailingly. I was so engrossed with her that an hour seemed to pass in no time at all. I adjusted a strap round her waist so that Ragnhild was held more tightly forward over the padded leather and her hind cheeks drawn apart somewhat more. Obliged to offer her rear view so completely, she was quite desperate when I picked up the spanking-strap again.
While she waited for the strap, the panty-gag in her mouth and the thin strap between her teeth allowed her only to plead by twisting her head round with such a soulful expression on the firm blue-eyed face. Her buxom thighs were tensing together as if trying to squeeze away the irritant heat of the cream. Twice I cooled her by applying a little more of the white cream, massaging into the flesh folds of her light-haired cunt. But though cool to the touch it soon turned scorching hot on such sensitive folds of flesh.
I can assure you that she was unable to take her eyes off me as I picked up the strap again and drew the split tails through my fingers. Even now it would be indiscreet of me to give a full description of the half hour which followed. The design of the strap was such that it was calculated to bring the most rebellious delinquent to obedience with half a dozen strokes. Ragnhild was able to take forty, though it was I who decided that she was able to bear them, not she. Each time, the strap cracked in the air and landed with a smack that made the walls sing. It was impossible to prevent the split tails finding their way between Ragnhild’s buttocks. Nor did I wish to do so. The result was to teach her a lesson she would remember always.
The strap also smacked her low down where the earlier spanking had left her throbbing tenderly. The results of this are better imagined than described!
Images and sounds of that spanking on the Blue Train remain vivid to me. A sharp and curling smack of the strap low across the bare pale cheek-swell of Ragnhild’s bottom. Wildness in her mouth and eyes as she twisted her face round. Another lash of the strap caught her low. Desperate tension in her sturdy bottom-cheeks. Another crack of the strap before she could contain the torment of the last. All her stolid indifference and self-containment gone. To break her defiance completely, she needed the strap hard and fast while she was in this predicament. One! Two! Three!
Low across her bottom-cheeks. Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! without a pause. Wadded frenzy and hip-surging. The full-cheeked swell of bottom-cheeks glowing and flesh-creasing. The effect of the tool in her behind and the heat of the slippery cream making her desperate. Nine! Ten! Eleven! Twelve!
Thirteen! Fourteen! The last two beautifully low and curling low down on Ragnhild’s bottom-cheeks. The tiled compartment echoing her gagged shrillness which came as an urgent mewing through the panty-nylon.
I took from the case what I would call a chastity-strap, were the design less vulgar. A belt went round Ragnhild’s bare waist. From the front, an inch-wide strap was drawn tight down her belly and back under her legs. It was then drawn up deep and tight between the cheeks of her bottom to fasten with a clip at the rear of her waist belt. The rear length of the strap was threaded through the base of a smooth rubber phallus, round-headed, four inches long, and thick as two fingers. As the strap was tightened, the rounded head forced Ragnhild’s anus and the rubber penis entered her behind, preventing any rudeness by her rear anatomy. I waited until Ragnhild’s tears were checked a little, though her eyes still brimmed over. She hid her face as if in shame at what I had done to her.
I undid the other pinions but left her wrists cuffed in front of her. Ragnhild was able to struggle into her black nylon bikini briefs and her blue shorts. When they came for her, she was tearful and woebegone. Of course, before they came for her, I returned the spanking-strap to the case and the guard’s cap and jacket to the pegs. I quit my compartment and watched the sequel from a safe distance.
I feel sure you can guess it. As soon as two officials came from the reformatory to collect her, Ragnhild complained loudly that one of the guards escorting her had taken her into the toilet, forced her face-down on the floor and buggered her. He had then spanked her with a leather strap.
The officials were astounded and made inquiries. Unimpeachable witnesses insisted that the two guards had been in the corridor and had not once entered her cabin during the journey. Two travellers, a lawyer and a clergyman, had been in conversation with the two guards all the way, plying them with cigars to hear shocking details of lesbianism in reformatories and accounts of bare bottom discipline. As for the key to the cabin, that had been in the possession of the guard commander who had passed the whole journey with three respectable gentlemen in the smoking-car, his keys before him.
Ragnhild was called a liar, a dirty slut, a tart who hoped to avenge herself on these custodians of morality and justice. On her arrival at the reformatory in half an hour more she would get a session with the prison cane across her bare arse to help her mend her ways.
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