"You may call me Miss Thwack. I have a second career disciplining naughty boys like you. Sometimes girls, but usually boys. I find them so much more deserving. Get your ass over this stool, my lad. It's twenty strokes of the paddle for you! Don't think I didn't notice you drooling over my bust-line. Lascivious brat."
I held my breath. Harry's face had gone rather red. I waited for the storm to erupt but strangely, nothing happened. Very quietly, my friend gestured to me and murmured
"Ladies first."
Quick as a wink, I leapt up and positioned myself over the seat of the stool, my naked buttocks eager to feel the sting of the makeshift paddle. I looked up at Sugar expectantly and could see that Harry had thrown her a curve ball. Miss Thwack was not accustomed to unexpected detours on the route. For one moment she looked rather angry, then she shrugged her shoulders and pushed my head down. Cool, smooth fingers traced the contours of my ass and my pussy began to ooze with juice. I parted my legs and waited for the first blow to fall.
Thwack!
Not too terribly stingy for starters. No doubt the worst was yet to come.
"Is that the best you can do?"
Aha! I knew Harry Neptune would not stay down for long. Upside-down, I watched him through the rungs of the stool, as he coolly appraised the young girl's spanking style.
Thwackk!!
"Oh come on! You're not swatting a fly. Give it some elbow grease, girl."
Now we were beginning to reach serious bun-warming mode. I wriggled pleasurably, dry heat spreading across my naked cheeks like sunburn.
"Mmm…"
Sugar aka Miss Thwack's thighs brushed against the backs of mine and I rubbed my bottom against her crotch. My familiarity was rewarded with another resounding slap. That time, my buttocks quivered with the shock and I gasped, grasping the rungs of the wooden stool with sweaty palms. I wondered where the Black Widow had got to and whether she could hear the percussion emanating from the pantry.
"That's better. And now it's your turn, Sugar, my sweet."
I opened my eyes to see two pairs of calves through the pine framework of the stool. The young girl spoke at last, her voice notably high and a trifle shrill.
"It's Miss Thwack to you! Don't even think about it! Oh, you bastard…"
There was a rather satisfying tearing sound and I sensed Miss Thwack's panties had suddenly lost their elastic and found themselves about her knees. Harry Neptune has a peculiar effect on knicker elastic. A frantic struggle commenced and a warm but violently wriggling body was pinned to my back. I felt Sugar's short skirt flip up over her hips and two strong hands pinioned us both in an interesting sandwich. I wondered whether I would be able to breathe.
"Spank Harry Neptune, would you, bint?"
There was a murmured response. Perhaps Miss Thwack had had her lungs crushed too.
"Speak up, you little brat."
"Oh, fuck you, you big bully!"
Sugar had found her voice. I took a sharp intake of breath in preparation for the storm to come. If there's one thing Harry abhors, it's bad language. He's no angel but the lingo of the gutter riles him to the core. I waited for the axe to fall. Which it did, promptly.
"Aaaaaaeeeeeeee!!!!!!"
There was a piercing shriek as my cultured friend grasped Sugar by her ponytails and entered her hard and deep from behind. An enthusiastic thrusting and moaning began, with a hot pussy grinding madly against my ass. Unable to retrieve a hand and give myself some manual stimulation, I did what I could and ground back against the squirming crotch. Then, to my relief, two small but strong hands found my cunt and began to massage my mound with a manic rhythm. Waves of pleasure surged through my body as I savored the feel of the big bouncy breasts which were tightly squished against my back. They really were incredibly pneumatic. The bucking fuck sandwich continued and I longed for a cucumber. If we had only had a strap-on for Miss Thwack… However, it wasn't long before Harry groaned and shot his load into a squealing Sugar who shrieked and frigged me to my own bleating climax.
"Yesss!"
"Ooh, yesss!!"
"OOH, YESSS!!!"
At that moment, the heavy curtain to the pantry parted and a rather cross looking old man stuck his head through the gap.
"Do you mind? This is a teahouse, not a bordello. Get dressed and back to your duties, Miss Sachs!"
Harry snorted.
"Sugar Sachs?!"
We uncoiled from the stool, a little dazed from the experience. Sugar grimaced.
"My real name is Gretchen. Can't blame me for trying to spice up a dull existence, can you? OK, so it's round one to you, Mister, er, Mister?"
Harry made a curt bow.
"Harry Neptune at your service. Always keen to keep an errant young lady in line. I've had plenty of practice with Miss Lawrence here."
Sugar tried to pull up her panties but they slid back down to her knees in limp surrender. Shrugging, she stepped out of them and smoothed her short skirt over her naked buns.
"Should help with the tips!"
A distant "Coo-ee! Harry! Gay!" from the tearoom shattered our post-sandwich reverie and we began to struggle into our discarded clothes. It seemed that the enemy was indefatigable. With a knowing smirk, Sugar held open a fire door and we fell pell-mell into a rather dirty alley. The last thing we heard was "Twatton's, four o'clock."
We stood up and dusted ourselves down.
"Gay indeed!"
"Well, you are. Kind of."
"I'm bi, dear. Like planes and 'noculars. Meaning two of. Gay is something else."
"That pixie's 'noculars are something else."
"I'm suspicious."
"Yes, you most definitely are."
"I don't think they're real."
Harry looked as if he was about to burst into tears.
"That's it! That's the final straw! First, I'm hounded by that rabid nymphoid Goldfinkel, now you try to tell me that Sugar is artificially sweetened. Next, you'll say that Father Christmas doesn't exist. Well, go on! Sock it to me! I can take it. What's a delusion for if not to be ruined, trampled to death in the dirt of stark reality?"
I patted my pouting friend's hand reassuringly and decided not to disclose what had happened to the mince pies during the shuffle through the pantry. At that moment, a small sheet of bright red paper floated down from above, wafting gently to rest at our feet. I picked it up.
Festive Fun at Twatton's Department Store
Come Sit On Santa's Knee!
Pixie Parade at 4pm
"The plot thickens!"
Harry brightened visibly.
"Oh ho ho ho! Santa comes but once a year but when he does, he fills your stockings! Want to sit on the old man's knee, Miss Lawrence? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink!"
He leered lasciviously.
"Depends how well his tree is trimmed, sweetie! Let me see, what time is it now? Gosh, half past three already. We've just time to make our way to Twatton's. I wouldn't mind a rummage in their lingerie department, anyway."
"Sounds like a good idea."
"Dirty old man."
This leisurely Christmas shopping expedition was turning out to be rather too energetic for my tastes. I like minimum shopping and maximum mince pies and sherry. Admittedly so far there had been an absolute minimum of shopping, but there had been zippo seasonal grub and Amontillado as well.
Now it looked as though for some mysterious reason we were off to see Santa Claus. I once saw a blue movie starring a female Santa and Humpty Dumpty, but somehow I thought Twatton's Department Store would have different ideas. I gathered together my slightly singed dignity and urged my diminutive friend on. The sooner this was over the sooner we could attend to the inner man.