A woman came in just as Adrienne’s smack landed across my seat: slightly older, very smart in an urbane style, what they call bon chic bon genre, and the last person I’d have chosen to watch me get a spanking. Adrienne didn’t care, planting a second smack across my bottom as I quickly stood up straight, then marching out of the restroom with me in tow, blushing furiously as I tried to reassert myself with her.
‘I’m staying at the Hôtel l’Aigrette in La Défense, if –’
‘You’re coming with me, for now. We can go to your hotel later.’
‘But Adrienne –’
‘Be quiet, Lucy. Unless you’d like your bottom smacked again, right here?’
We’d come out to the main area of the services, a huge open space with maybe two hundred people to watch me get it if she carried out her threat. I was fairly sure she didn’t mean it, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way, so I shut up, while imagining how it would feel to be put across her knee and spanked in front of so many onlookers. She gave a dry chuckle, no doubt fully aware of what was going on in my head.
‘You call me out to meet you here, thirty kilometres out of town, and you don’t expect to be disciplined? You know how it works, Lucy.’
I did, although I’d expected her to wait until the evening before giving me what I undoubtedly deserved. A man would have done, almost certainly, and probably bought me dinner before coaxing me out of my clothes for punishment and sex, but not Adrienne. She liked to be in charge, in normal life as well as in bed, and that meant doing as I was told. Besides, she was right.
‘I’m sorry. Things got rather complicated.’
‘So I see. I thought you were coming from Calais?’
‘I was, but … but I went to sleep and woke up in Beaune. I had to get another lift.’
‘I’m sure you did, instead of taking the train, but then, the SNCF don’t take the use of a woman’s mouth as payment, do they? Did it work?’
‘Yes, both times, both drivers, Claude and Jean-Luc. I can’t remember exactly how many times they made me go down on them.’
‘I just hope you don’t expect me to kiss you. Stay here.’
She turned back and disappeared inside the building, leaving me wondering what was going on. Her little red Renault was parked at the end of a line of cars in front of the services and I went to stand beside it and wait. She came back holding a bottle of water and spoke immediately, her tone firm but also mocking and cruel.
‘I said, stay by the doors. Stick out your bottom.’
‘But Adrienne, people will see …’
‘How many times do I have to give you an order, Lucy? Stick out your bottom.’
I hesitated, but there weren’t that many people around and I did want to obey, because the shame of what I’d been ordered to do was just too strong for me to resist. Anywhere less anonymous and I wouldn’t have done it, but, as I turned my back and presented myself for her attention once more, I was reasoning that whatever people might think of a grown woman getting her bottom smacked outside a service station, they wouldn’t know that it was me. That only went so far to soothe my feelings as Adrienne’s hand landed across my rear cheeks with a sharp double slap. Quite a few people had noticed, and I was left blushing hotter than when I’d walked away from the lorries, but she wasn’t finished with me yet.
‘Now open your mouth.’
‘What –’
My question was abruptly choked off as she thrust something between my lips, a small, hard bar of soap, the sort they’d had in the ladies’ restroom. It tasted foul, but there was no mistaking the look on her face and I held it in as she offered the water bottle.
‘Take some. Swill it around your mouth. Then get in the car.’
She watched, amused but still full of authority as I took a swallow of water, my expression turning more disgusted by the moment as the soapy taste grew stronger. Yet I knew better than to spit it out and did as I was told, holding my mouthful as I climbed into the passenger seat of the Renault. Adrienne got in beside me and chuckled as she started the car, which was hardly surprising: my cheeks were popping and my eyes beginning to water. I tried to say something, but soap bubbles immediately started to issue from between my lips, leaving me feeling very sorry for myself indeed and painfully turned on as Adrienne rejoined the motorway, talking as she drove.
‘You should see yourself, Lucy. You do look funny, but then, that was my favourite thing about you from the start, the faces you pull when you are punished. I know you love it, but you always look so cross and so stupid at the same time, like you hate to be punished but you can’t stop yourself from taking it because you know what it does to you. This is good, because you deserve this, Lucy, for making me come out here, and for being such a slut. I mean, imagine it, allowing lorry drivers to make you suck them off in return for a lift, and more too, I’ll bet. Did you let them fuck you, Lucy?’
I nodded, deeply ashamed of myself for what I’d done, her every word pushing my feelings higher. Despite my best efforts to keep my mouth shut the soap bubbles had begun to dribble down my face and were hanging from my chin in a little frothy beard. Adrienne gave a tut of contempt at my confession and carried on.
‘I thought as much. You deserve the soap, Lucy, and you deserve what you’re going to get back at my apartment.’
She gave me a knowing look as she finished, then turned her attention back to the road. We’d played together twice, and both times she’d whipped me, her favourite sport and probably what she’d had in mind, but that was quite enough. The little plaited leather dog whip she favoured carried an agonising sting, and she had made me take it kneeling with my bare bottom pushed out in a way that left everything on show but carried none of the intimacy of an old-fashioned over-the-knee spanking.
The traffic was getting heavy and Adrienne stopped talking, leaving me to chew on the bar of soap in my mouth and reflect on the situation I’d got myself into. I did like her, and the way she handled me, and I badly needed safe friends in Paris, but she seemed determined to take full advantage of my sexuality, stripping me of every last shred of dignity. Half an hour we’d been together and already I’d had my bottom smacked in public and my mouth washed out with soap, but all I could do was submit and await my chance to teach her how I like to be dealt with.
She lived in the 16th arrondissement, in a small but select attic apartment off the Avenue Mozart, and exactly the sort of place I had my eye on for my own accommodation once I’d settled into my new job. It was more than an hour’s drive from the Aire de Villabé, but my mumbled requests to spit the soap out were met with refusal and the promise of additional punishment. By the time we arrived I was beginning to feel sick, my mouth was full of bubbles, and I’d had to puff my cheeks out to stop myself swallowing what was left of the bar. Adrienne grinned at my discomfort as I climbed from the car, making queer gulping noises and pointing at my mouth as I struggled to communicate my needs without committing open disobedience. She shook her head.
‘Not until we’re upstairs, little one, and then only because I don’t want mess on my carpet.’
I managed a nod, trying to seem genuinely thankful but wondering what would happen if I turned the tables on her and put her over my knee in the street. She was tiny, lightly built, not particularly strong either, while I not only stood nearly a foot taller but had spent most of the spring at an outdoor training camp, making my muscles lean and hard. It would have been the work of a moment to sit down on the bonnet of the Renault, haul her across my lap, get her out of her jeans and the no doubt fancy panties beneath and spank her until she howled.
Unfortunately I believe in consent and she had made it plain from the first that she only gave, never received. That didn’t stop me thinking about