Kikki Kikki

From Blushes Supplement 2

Kikki wasn’t her real name, yet it suited her dark, pretty looks, her slightly snub nose — spattered in summer with freckles — and the air of naive, fey wondering that came over her oval face often enough now, her lips parting as though she were about to speak but did not know what to say.

Kikki had earned her name when she began to discover that it was not only her lips that were to remain parted sometimes. Being taken to a party that was all for ‘grown-ups’ as far as she was concerned — for everyone else there seemed to be at least forty — had started it. People had begun to dance and kiss at the same time, but Kikki wouldn’t dance and she didn’t know where to look.

‘It’s not your scene, is it?’ a voice had asked her, and Kikki had looked up to see one of the ladies’ husbands smiling down at her peering right into the neckline of her dress — the first low one she had worn. Not knowing how to reply, Kikki had shyly shaken her head and, at that, he had beckoned her rather mysteriously, going towards the adjoining room so that she felt impelled out of politeness to follow him.

It was dark in the room and Kikki expected him to put on the light. The door swung to behind her and there was total gloom that was scary. Then his arm shot out as if from nowhere, making her squeak in surprise, and she found her face slammed against his chest.

‘You have to learn to kiss,’ he said and then his arms slid under her armpits and raised her straining on to tiptoe as he lowered his head and brought his mouth on to hers.

Kikki remembered gurgling in the suddenness of it, her lips humming bemusedly against his own. Then, with a muffled squeal, she heard someone else approach from behind them and her dress was quickly worked up to her waist. Sobbing under the hard mouth that pressed upon her own, she had felt her tiny nylon knicks being peeled down by unseen hands until her bottom was completely bared.

‘Gooo-ah!’ she had squawked, but then one of those hands smacked her ripe young bottom-cheeks hard and in the same instant the arms of the man who was kissing her raised her body so that her legs dangled, and then Smack! came again and her lips screwed themselves up under the man’s and she kicked, kicked backwards, feeling the high heels of her brand new shoe contact something soft, producing a yelp.

‘The little devil!’ she heard from behind her, but then the other man growled over her mouth, ‘Don’t spank her too hard, you fool — lead her into it.’

‘Nooo-Nooo-Nooo!’ she had squealed, but then got another smack and another on her tight, bouncy bum that made the cheeks burn more. But then the door —which hadn’t quite closed itself — was opened and a voice had asked, ‘What’s going on in here?’ and Kikki had almost died, for her panties were wreathed around her ankles by then. But whoever it was hadn’t seen. The man who was holding her up stepped quickly back into the shadows, carrying her with him and the other had said something about ‘fooling around.’

At that, Kikki had been allowed to toe the floor again and hadn’t dared to utter so much as a squeak. Hands had flirted for a moment with the warm, tingling bulb of her bottom, and then she had been left alone in the dark room to pull her knicks up quickly, grimacing a little as the nylon again sheathed her smarting bottom. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before, and it was awful.

Going out of the room into the drawing room again was worse, but thankfully no one seemed to notice her. They were all too busy dancing and kissing, and things, so Kikki sneaked upstairs and stayed in the bathroom for as long as she could, wondering at her experience and fingering the slightly tenderised cheeks of her bottom. By good luck she was able to stay in there for twenty minutes. Someone had left a packet of cigarettes and a gold lighter on the edge of the bath, and she lit one, choking a bit at first but then getting used to it.

It was Kikki’s first cigarette and her first spanking — though not much of one, as she realised a few weeks later.

The unfairest thing of all was that she was caught out that night stubbing out the cigarette in the washbasin and told off for it.

‘I think it’s time your bottom was attended to,’ she was told, and she wanted desperately to tell what had happened, but she couldn’t. On the way back — while the party was still swinging — she wriggled on the car seat, not so much because her bottom tingled still but because she was mad at having been got into trouble. Besides, she didn’t like those awful words that had been said to her as they went out of the front door, but the dumbness that often invaded her had seized her, and she unknowing that silence — in the case of young ladies — usually meant consent.

Perhaps that was why he had spanked her straight away indoors, hauling her abruptly over his lap and ripping her panties down so quickly that the elastic snapped.

By the time she had received the first two impacts of his broad palm on her velvety-firm bottom, Kikki’s knicks had worked first to both ankles and then only one as her left foot escaped the widened gap. They hung there forlornly as her cries assailed the walls and the ceiling and her bottom grew redder and redder, her sobs and pleas choking out unheeded.

‘That will do you for tonight, young lady — and, my god, you almost ripped a hole in the sofa with those kicking heels of yours,’ he had said, but she hadn’t waited to hear and had run upstairs howling and holding her over-pink derriere, with her broken panties snapping at her right heel like a tiny pink puppy.

From that evening on she had been known as Kikki — ‘I shall call you that now until you stop kicking,’ she had been told to her utter dismay, so that tears of unregarded self-pity welled up in her large brown eyes. That morning of the next day her aunt had taken her shopping and had bought Kikki all sorts of things she had never expected, like it was her birthday or something.

There were half a dozen pairs of sheer black stockings that were self-supporting and came almost to the tops of her thighs. She was to change them as soon as she got a ladder in them, she was told. The more she kicked the more ladders she would be likely to get, and for each ladder she would get an extra six smacks — ‘or something worse,’ was said ominously.

There were three skirts, too, but all practically the same: two black and one dark blue, and all pleated, When she tried them on in the changing room of the department store, Kikki could hardly dare look at herself, because the hems hung only half an inch below the tops of her new stockings, and when she twirled around, regarding the bottom half of her trim, small figure in the mirror, she could see the backstrap of her panties and the cheeky bulging of her nether cheeks. Oh… she would never be able to sit down in them, because they would ride right up and show her panties at the front.

But that was just being silly, Kikki was told firmly. Bras were not necessary for her, she was told, and had to leave them off, her bulbing breasts moulded by any one of three new black or blue jumpers of very fine wool through which her nipples peaked.

‘They t…t…tickle me,’ Kikki had said in embarrassment. — ‘Well, then, you can always leave them off, can’t you?’ was the reply. The only nice things she was bought — the only really nice things — were three baby-doll nighties, but so brief that the lacy hems floated just above her increasingly-curly pubic bush. One was baby-blue, one was pink, and the other was black, and they were awfully transparent. The black one, she was told, was to be worn with new black stockings for ‘special occasions.’

That night the house seemed quieter than usual. She had put her new black outfit on, as she had been told to and had tried holding on to her skirt when she sat down, but still the puffy vee of her knicks showed, and she couldn’t keep holding it, especially when her aunt gave her something to drink. Then, at 10.30 when it was time for bed, she was told, ‘Put your nightie on, Kikki, and I’ll come and see to you.’

Kikki knew somehow that it meant another spanking and ran upstairs and whispered to her old Teddy — whom she had long ceased cuddling in bed — to save her, but her Teddy merely stared at her as it always had done, with its poky brown glass eyes. The familiar, cosy little room was then suddenly strange to her as she quickly shed her skirt, top and panties. Was it a ‘special occasion’? No, it couldn’t be — whatever that was.

Peeling off her tight stockings, Kikki had put on her baby-blue nightie, not knowing whether to lie down or what to do. But it was even ruder when she tried, for the nightie went up around her waist, all fluffy and soft. Footsteps made her jump up and pull frantically and uselessly on the flimsy hem as he came in. And he was holding a cane.

Kikki’s lips parted as she saw it, swinging businesslike by his side and her knees came together quickly, but he simply shook his head and closed the door.

‘There’s no need for that, Kikki, I’m going to see to you. Draw it up and kneel up on your bed,’ he said.

The air seemed to freeze about her for a moment and she stood dumb while he repeated the third sentence so slowly and sternly that Kikki knew there was no way out. Gulping and trying to hide her face, she drew up her silly, baby nightie to almost under her proud tits and turned quickly to do as he said, conscious of the way her bottom-cheeks seemed to spring apart slightly as he tapped her with the cane to bow herself right over and — as he growled — ‘Keep that bottom well up and out, Miss.’

Kikki’s mouth had been dry, like when she had smoked that cigarette. At the first swishing of the cane through the air, she winced even before it fleeted with intense stinging across her offered half-moons, bringing a surprised yelp from her.

The pink line it left seemed to satisfy him for a moment, for he paused and looked down on her bent-over, plaintive figure. Then one of his feet nudged Kikki’s apart, and though she was tempted to scrape them back together again she remembered the ‘something worse’ her aunt had talked about, and so she kept still with her calves at an angle to each other.

‘Next time you will wear your nylons, Kikki,’ he said. Before she could answer, the cane took her again, making her back rear up for a moment as the awful stinging and burning invaded her and made her squeeze her stricken nether-cheeks together madly. It was awful that he could actually see her squeezing them, for he remarked in emotionless tones, ‘That’s right — hold it in, Kikki.’

‘I don’t want…!’ Kikki had howled — remarkably for her — but with that her cry had been cut off as he awarded her another that made her hips bounce forward, knees shuffling and rucking up her duvet.

‘Bring it back, Kikki — over the edge now,’ he had said then, and miserably enough (screwing up her eyes) she had done so, though warily, until her bottom was again outthrust over the middle of her spread calves. A grunt that might even have been of approval had come from him then, and he had given her a much lighter one that skimmed her peach rather than biting into it, so that Kikki uttered a much softer cry.

‘Good, Kikki. That’s better — much better,’ she had heard him say. Her knees must have shifted, though, for he urged them even further apart with the teasing tip of the cane. ‘Now bow your head right down,’ she was told, and did so miserably, sobbing and sniffling into her cupped palms. It would be the last time, she heard, that she would be told how to take up a correct posture on the side of the bed. ‘The side,’ he repeated, as though there were other postures she hadn’t heard about yet.

Then… ‘Ow-wer! Aaaar!’ Kikki cried out as the cane scorched a path twice more across her bottom and then she was told to get into bed. Not daring to look at him, Kikki literally tumbled in head first and drew the top sheet quickly over herself, throwing one arm across her eyes while her seared bulb wriggled tempestuously. Then he bent and kissed her forehead and went out, clicking off the light and closing the door while Kikki curled her toes and rolled onto her hip, facing the wall, and cuddling her right hand up between her thighs, feeling sicky and trembly as she squirmed.

In the next few days Kikki kept thinking not only of the awful way her bottom had suffered, but of the man who had said to her so mysteriously, ‘You have to learn to kiss.’ She couldn’t quite — not quite, at least — understand the connection between being spanked and kissing, though it had been a funny sort of kissing, for he hadn’t moved his mouth, but just held it over hers.

Finally, Kikki burst out something about it in a moment of confidentiality to her aunt.

‘Oh, that!’ her aunt laughed, and said something equally mysterious about how most things led to nice things in the end. ‘Just be good, Kikki,’ she said, and went on with her housework.

Two nights later, after she had been caned once more, Kikki jerked up both legs as she made to get into bed, but as she did so he suddenly cupped her scorched bottom, intruding his thumb against her plump mound, and kissed her soft-bubbling lips, holding her so for a long moment that made her feel more trembly than ever.

‘There…’ he murmured to her comfortingly and slid his thumb very slowly down while she grimaced and wanted to cling to his neck, but let her arms flop weakly instead, so that he smiled and swung her raised legs sideways, tucking them under the sheet. Again then, Kikki lay working her heat-throbbing bottom for a moment and then reverted on to her hip, her fingers between her thighs receiving more sticky-wetness than before. She thought of the ball of his thumb there and blushed, and unconsciously began to move her own around the same sparky spot, until her shapely young legs shot down, toes curling. Her lips parted and a soft moan came from her. Then she rolled on her tummy and squirmed her head under her pillow, just like a rabbit…

On the following Friday, Kikki’s aunt took her out and treated her to lunch and talked about everything except that which Kikki really wanted to know.

It wasn’t until they got back that her aunt said to her casually, ‘Oh, by the way, Kikki, I think it might be a special occasion tonight. You know what to wear.’ Kikki had swallowed but couldn’t think of anything else to say. Then her aunt glanced at her enquiringly, and she said simply ‘Yes.’

Kikki had a bath that night and went straight into her bedroom, putting on her shorty black nightie and a new pair of black stockings. Gazing at her reflection doubtfully, her pussy hairs fluffed up, she thought her thighs looked plump in stockinged feet and so put a pair of extra-high heels on, then waited with a funny quivering in her tummy for the door to open.

When it did — biting her fingers and not knowing where to look — she saw that he had his pyjamas on and was holding a strap, split at the end.

The next morning, when she finally awoke, her bed all crumpled and her baby-doll nightie on the floor together with her shoes, Kikki stared up open-mouthed at the white ceiling. She still had her stockings on, though they were awfully laddered now. She didn’t want to stir, though, for she felt all creamy-dreamy, and for once her aunt did not call up to her. After all, she had learned to kiss now, and… well… all sorts of other things…