The Bitch

The mood I was in I probably should have stayed home that day. Unfortunately, the excursion had been set up for several weeks and a whole bunch of us were going, and I was one of the designated drivers.

I'd much rather have stayed home and had a few quiet drinks on my own rather than go out and party, but it wouldn't have been right to let the others down.

The problem was Mary, a friend of mine. We weren't lovers, past or present, and who could tell where the future was concerned, but she was a good friend.

I received news that she'd been mugged in the park the previous evening and I went to the hospital to see her. She'd been pretty badly beaten up and would be carrying the marks for weeks.

She told me it wasn't a simple mugging. A couple of lowlifes had jumped her with intent to rape and she'd fought. Apparently she'd scratched one of them up pretty good and he'd retaliated by laying into her. She'd been lucky, after a fashion. A cop heard her screaming and came running, so she didn't actually get raped as well, but it was a near thing.

She was able to give a fairly good description and with the claw marks on them they'll probably be picked up. And I hope they resist arrest and get thumped.

So it's understandable that I was feeling a bit down and a bit angry; not really the right mood to be going to the beach for a party.

But a promise was a promise and I'd made use of designated drivers in the past. It wouldn't have been fair to back out when it was my turn. The others would have understood, but I'd still have felt guilty, so off I went.

There were about twenty of us in the group. We were all in the same age bracket, say twenty plus or minus two years. Some of us were paired up, some of us not, just hanging out together. As with any group there were those I got on well with and some not so well. And of course the odd person here and there that I couldn't stand.

Diana was one of the ones that I couldn't stand. She was a holier than thou first class bitch, always ready to point the finger and cast blame. None of the blame ever came her way, naturally.

And, although I hated to say it, she was quite lovely. A really nice figure and a tendency to flaunt it. Once she shed her beach coat she proved to be wearing a sensational little yellow bikini that suited her to a tee.

A reasonably pleasant day was had by all. We had water sports and beach ball. Food and drink were available, even if I was restricted to non-alcoholic beverages. I tended to stay quiet and loiter around the edges of the group today, feeling morose.

It was heading towards the evening and the party was starting to wind down when the subject of rape was brought up. I don't know who started the discussion, or why, but it quickly became clear that several of those present had differing ideas about it.

One girl, for instance, maintained that as soon as a girl says no then that is the end of the matter. To try to continue after that is assault and leads to rape.

Another girl promptly put forward the argument that if a man had to back off as soon as she said no, then she'd never get laid. She liked a man to persuade her.

Diana, of course, had to put forward her opinion that rape was always the woman's fault. She shouldn't have put herself into a position where she was likely to get raped. Alternatively, she was wearing provocative clothes that just yelled for someone to jump her.

I thought of poor Mary, attacked in a public park when all she was doing was walking home. She was wearing her work clothes at the time, and by no stretch of the imagination could they be called provocative.

Diana's comments were not well received by the group in general. Looking at the faces of some of the women I could see real anger. Two of them, according to rumours that I'd heard, had undergone reluctant sexual experiences, to put it in a polite manner. To hear that Diana considered them to be at fault didn't go down well.

I also noticed that Michael was flushed and not looking at anyone in particular. I'd heard a rumour about him and his last girlfriend that I won't repeat, but if true he damn well should blush at the mention of rape.

Things would have been alright if the subject had just been left there, but someone raised Mary's name, pointing out that she'd been attacked on the way home. (Not me. I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut.)

That's when Diana proceeded to get the whole group offside. Mary was a nice young woman, kind and sociable and everyone liked her.

Without a qualm, Diana started to rip Mary's character to bits.

Mary should have had more sense than to go walking where people like that hang out. What, a public park in the afternoon with other people around should be considered dangerous?

Mary should have worn less provocative clothes. I've seen her secretary outfit. A nun would wear it and feel perfectly comfortable.

Mary should have just told them no, firmly, and they would have backed off. Really? It's a wonder other people don't just say no to muggers and watch them apologise and walk away.

It was her last shot that made me lose it. Mary, in Diana's opinion, was probably no better than she ought to be and was possibly picking up the men and had the transaction get out of hand. She was insinuating that Mary was a whore who got was coming to her? I was seething.

I could actually feel anger emanating from the rest of the group. Like I said, everyone liked Mary, apparently with the exception of Diana.

I just quietly rose to my feet and walked over towards where Diana was bending over the drinks container, fishing for a can. Coming up behind her I took hold of her bikini bottoms and had them down around her ankles before she even knew what was happening.

"Gee, Diana," I said, "your outfit is really provocative. You should get rid of it."

At the same time I reached for the bikini top and pulled loose the bow at her back, letting the top fall forward and freeing her breasts.

"Looking like that, Diana," I continued, "you can't really blame me if I think you're trolling for customers."

A swift movement of my foot slid the drinks container to the side and some pressure behind Diana's knees had them folding and her falling onto all fours.

"You know," I said, "I think I'll accept your kind invitation. It's a while since I've had sex on the beach."

By now I had one hand on her back holding her in position while my other hand was cupping her mound and starting to stroke it. There was dead silence from the others in the group, but Diana finally found her tongue.

"Are you insane," she shrieked. "Let me go at once. How dare you touch me like this? How dare you pull down my pants? Get your stinking hands off me, you rotten swine."

I smacked her bottom. Hard.

"There's no need to be offensive," I pointed out. "If you've changed your mind you only need to say no."

"What do you mean, changed my mind?" she squealed. "I never said anything about sex to you."

"Your attitude said it for you," I told her. "So you haven't changed your mind?"

"No," she yelled. "Get your hands off me."

"Is that no, you haven't changed your mind or no, you don't want me right now?" I asked, seeking a little clarification.

I continued to massage her pussy, noting in passing that the group seemed to have settled down to watch with interest. I wasn't sure if they expected me to actually take Diana, but I was damn sure a couple of the girls were hoping I would.

"No means that I don't want sex with you, now or ever," gasped poor Diana, trying to wriggle away from my intruding fingers. I say intruding because I'd managed to slip a couple between her lips and was now probing her quite deeply.

"Unfortunately, I haven't changed my mind," I said. "It's your own fault you know, what with the provocative bikini and the way you were wiggling your bottom in the air, drawing everyone's attention to it."

I slipped off my own bathers, idly wondering if anyone would try to stop me. Apparently not, as not a squeak came from the onlookers. I pressed forward, my cock easing in past Diana's lips.

My, didn't she squeal. She tried to pull away but I took hold of her hips and held her steady as I moved in. I didn't rush it, letting her have time to adjust to my entry, but neither did I linger.

Diana was squealing and protesting, pleading for someone to get me off of her, but our audience paid her as much heed as I did. To the sound of one extra loud squeal I drove fully home into her.

Diana knelt there, trembling slightly with my cock right up her. Then I pulled back and paused for a moment.

"You are at times a really rotten bitch," I told her, at the same time giving a sound slap to her bottom before driving back in hard and fast.

Ignoring her protesting scream I drew back again.

"You were deliberately slandering poor Mary while she's in hospital in a critical state," I said, hand coming down hard on her bottom and cock driving in even harder.

There was another scream of protest, again ignored.

I pulled back and paused, and I could see (and feel) Diana's bottom trembling in anticipation of the spank that was coming. I didn't disappoint her, either with spank or thrust.

I continued like this, noticing a subtle change coming over Diana as I proceeded. It seemed to me that she was almost offering her bottom to me for the spank, and she was definitely driving herself back against my cock when I plunged forward.

Her squeals had not stopped but the tone of them had changed. They were no longer screams of fright and pain, but squeals of anticipation and excitement. I could barely credit it but being ravished and spanked was exciting Diana, and I suspected that the knowledge that people were watching was also exciting her.

Eventually I had to knock off the spanking. Her bottom was quite red, but that was not the main reason. Basically it was a case of it being hard to get a good rhythm going if I had to keep interrupting to spank and lecture.

I reached around and took possession of her breasts and, holding them tightly, I started pounding out a sexual lesson to Diana, driving into her hard and often. The entire time I was doing it she didn't shut up, squealing and bouncing under me, rising to the occasion, you might say, each time I drilled into her.

I drove Diana all the way to a climax, meeting it with one of my own. She sort of sagged to the ground afterwards, still on all fours, bum high, not caring who was looking.

I straightened my clothes and then indicated to a couple of the girls that they should come and help Diana straighten up her things. They did so, their faces completely bland as they helped her tidy up. No-one even mentioned what had taken place.

At least, no-one mentioned it until we were on the way home. I had three passengers, two men and one of the girls. After I'd been driving a while, Jenny spoke up.

"It seemed to me that Diana really got off on being spanked in public. I wonder how she'd react if someone else decided to spank her the next time we meet as a group."

Delicately she didn't mention the rest of what took place.

"It might be interesting to find out," Graeme murmured. "I wouldn't mind spanking her. Among other things."

I didn't contribute to the conversation, concentrating on my driving. So if Diana finds herself bent over someone's knee getting another spanking it has nothing to do with me. I know nothing about the plan for one person to spank her and another to do the consolation afterwards.