Sarah’s Problem

From Blushes 18

The door was opened by a girl with a foreign accent, she would be the au pair. She took Sarah’s coat and showed her into a room and said have a seat, Dr Ritson would not be long. Sarah sat on the chair, though she felt much too nervous to calmly sit and wait. It was Dr Ritson’s private house, not his surgery. She chewed her lower lip. Her friend Alexandra had come to Dr Ritson and said he was OK, he would put you on them and more importantly he wouldn’t want to discuss it with your mum first. Sarah squirmed on the chair; her mother would kill her if she knew. But then she would certainly kill her if Sarah found herself pregnant.

Robert had said he was going to use something but then afterwards admitted he hadn’t. And that was the second time he’d done that even though she’d really gone berserk the first time. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Nothing’ll happen,’ but that was just being bloody stupid. Something could happen every time you did it if you weren’t on the Pill or something. The fact was that Robert just didn’t care, all he cared about was his own pleasure and he said it wasn’t the same if you used something.

Well that was all right for him, what would he do if she got stuck? He wouldn’t want to know. Boys his age were all the same, she thought bitterly. Mr Kingbury who she did jobs for at the weekend and some evenings and who had also more or less forced her to do it although she didn’t want to, at least he had used something.

Sarah looked at the door. Where was this Dr Ritson? She wanted him to come in so she could get the ordeal over with but at the same time she dreaded it. ‘He’ll want to know all the details of course,’ Alex had said, ‘and of course he’ll want to examine you.’ Bloody Cripes. But it would be double and triple Bloody Cripes if she was pregnant. Getting fatter in her school uniform and then having to leave like Debbie Middleton when her shape became too obvious. Everyone would know of course — just like they had with Debbie. Sarah felt herself sweating. Keep calm, she told herself, none too hopefully.

Where was Dr Ritson? She got up. Slipping off her shoes she went to stand on the scales. It was four days since they had done it, a week and a half since the first time. How long did it take before you got fatter? She was studying the scale when behind her was the sound of the door opening.

‘Putting on weight?’ he asked jovially. Red-faced, she straightened up.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting: rather busy. Miss Huntley, is it? Sarah?’

She said yes she was and her friend had recommended her. He wasn’t all that old and not bad-looking if you liked older men. He wasn’t as old as Mr Kingbury for instance who had… twice… Dr Ritson was giving her a frank questioning look. She felt herself flushing. ‘Well, Sarah, what exactly can we do for you?’

Didn’t Dr Ritson know? Wasn’t that why she was seeing him at his house in the evening and not at his surgery? Bloody Cripes! ‘Er… well… it… my friend Alex. Alexandra Phillips. She said… I mean you…’

‘Contraception?’ Dr Ritson said. Sarah said yes.

‘How old are you, Sarah?’

‘Seventeen. Seventeen and three months actually.’

‘And are you having intercourse?’

Flushing afresh Sarah said yes. Then added. ‘And that’s what I’m worried about. I mean… you know. If I was… my mum’d kill me.’

Dr Ritson had a little smile on his face. He seemed to be looking at her tits. Unconsciously Sarah pulled her shoulders back. Mr Kingbury said they were a very good size for a girl of 17 and men didn’t like great big floppy ones anyway. ‘So you’ve been a naughty girl, Sarah? And you don’t think your mother would approve?’

That was the understatement of the year. ‘She’ll kill me,’ Sarah repeated.

Dr Ritson said ‘Hmmm’. His hand came round and squeezed her bottom and then he moved round and from behind both hands cupped her tits, squeezing them too. Sarah felt herself trembling. He was a doctor, she told herself, but nonetheless a man’s hands squeezing your tits was bound to get you going a bit.

‘You seem a nice fit, healthy girl, Sarah.’ Dr Ritson was still squeezing them. ‘Is it your boyfriend?’

She said yes. There was no point telling him about Mr Kingbury.

‘Full penetration? And with no contraceptive measures?’

Her skin prickled. Full penetration? Yes, it had been that all right. ‘Yes,’ she said. Dr Ritson let go of her and went to sit on the chair. ‘Come here,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a look at you. Lift your skirt up.’

It was only then that Sarah remembered what she had on underneath: the black stockings and suspender belt and ultra-brief knickers. She had come straight to Dr Ritson’s from Mr Kingbury and it was what she had worn there. Mr Kingbury was a keen photographer and he gave Sarah two pounds for a modelling session. He had bought her the sexy knickers and the suspender belt in fact. Of course she hadn’t told anyone about the photo sessions, not even her friend Alex, and Mr Kingbury had said his pics were only for his own private collection. But then that old bugger had threatened to send some of them to her mother — if she wouldn’t be ‘nice’ to him. Being ‘nice’ of course meant doing you know what. And so she had to.

But anyway she had been round to Mr Kingbury’s earlier and just hadn’t thought. Naturally if she had she would have gone home and changed. Into something modest and demure, not those things Mr Kingbury had bought.

‘Lift your skirt please, Sarah,’ Dr Ritson repeated.

Clearly there was not a lot of choice. Bloody Cripes. She could feel herself flushing, her face probably red as a beetroot.

Sarah, with her skirt held high round her waist, made a gulping sound. She just stopped herself explaining about Mr Kingbury. No, that was not a good idea. Dr Ritson was staring at her crotch, at the tiny white knickers. Then he said, ‘Turn round.’

The back view of course was as bad as the front. Most of her bum bare. Sarah cringed. It was a full bum, in Sarah’s view too fat. Then she gave a little squeal. Dr Ritson’s hand, on her bare bum, where the brief knickers didn’t cover. He pinched, and then gave it a slap, making the full flesh wobble. Sarah’s face was burning again.

‘Do you know what I think, Miss Sarah Huntley,’ came the voice from behind her. ‘I think before we go any further we should smack this bottom. The trouble with 17-year-old girls nowadays is that they hardly ever get their bottoms smacked. And as a result of this they go round thinking they’re all grown up, wearing sexy underwear and doing things with boys that they certainly shouldn’t. When they’re not really grown up at all, and what they really need is a good, hard smacked bottom.’

Sarah blinked. She didn’t think Dr Ritson’s joke was very funny — and everyone knew that at 17 you were grown up. ‘Ouch!’ she blurted as behind her his hand slapped hard and painfully across a half-bared bottom-cheek.

‘What d’you think, Miss?’

He wasn’t serious, was he? Not about spanking her? Then she gave another yelp as his hand splatted in again. ‘Hey, that hurts,’ she gasped.

‘Good; it was meant to. But the spanking I’m going to give you will certainly hurt a good deal more. Come here, over my lap.’

He had hold of her arm and was pulling her down. He couldn’t. ‘No!’ she yelped. Dr Ritson stopped for a moment. ‘Would you rather I went and had a word with your mother?’

There wasn’t any answer to that and Sarah didn’t attempt one. This time when he pulled her down she didn’t fight it. He pulled her right over so that he had Sarah’s plump bum right up over his lap. She was sensitive about her bottom, sure that it was too fat although Mr Kingbury said it was a really super one and was always wanting to take photos of her with it sticking out in some position or other. It was sticking up now, she knew, in a quite mortifying manner, with her head right down near the floor. She was draped over his lap just like some little kid rather than a grown up 17-year-old. It was absolutely humiliating. Dr Ritson’s hand fiddling about, having a good grope, and then… Bloody Cripes… splatting down like he meant to kill her.

She felt quite sick, gasping and grunting and groaning, as his vicious hand really knocked the breath out of her. Alex had said nothing about this, that Dr Ritson was a monster or a sadist, or perhaps both. Her bottom very shortly was feeling like a piece of raw steak.

Sometime later — it felt like an hour — he stopped and dragged her to her feet. ‘How does it feel?’ asked monstrous Dr Ritson. Sarah didn’t answer; there were real tears in her eyes and if she opened her mouth she might easily start blubbing like a little kid. Dr Ritson anyway didn’t seem to need an answer. ‘You can do with a bit more yet,’ he said. ‘And let’s take these sexy knickers down this time.’

He did. Yanked them down and then dragged her back over his lap. Having her knickers down didn’t make a lot of difference as regards the spanking: They had not, after all, been much protection. The difference was the thought, and the fact. Her bottom now quite bare. Her plump fat bum. Every time Dr Ritson’s hard hand splatted in it, it flattened the soft flesh like a jelly or something. The very thought made Sarah squirm with anguish, while at the same time there was the continuing stinging, agonising pain.

How long did he keep that up for — another hour? When he finally had finished Sarah felt like she could hardly stand, her legs made of rubber. Remarkably they managed to support her. Dr Ritson, with a horrible grin, stood up. ‘Now up on the chair, Sarah. Kneel on it and we’ll give you a few more to finish off.’ She looked at him but he wasn’t joking. Clambering onto the chair seat, it was all Sarah could do not to burst into tears. She had at least thought it was all over.

‘Hold on and stick your bottom out.’ His hand cracked in again. It was like some kind of nightmare. Maybe he wasn’t ever going to stop.

The chair-kneeling bit did prove to, finally, be the end though. At the end of it Dr Ritson, with another of those laughs, said, ‘Get on the scales. Let’s see if we’ve knocked any weight off you.’

After all that, though, he at least said OK he would have a look at her and if everything seemed OK he would put her on the Pill but really of course she should discuss it with her mother, and really he should have a word with her mother as well. ‘No!’ Sarah gasped.

He took her upstairs, to a bedroom. Sarah had to take the skimpy pants off and get on the bed. It was not unlike Mr Kingbury’s bedroom, and getting on the bed and pulling up her skirt and opening her legs…

Dr Ritson was a monster and a sadist but also not bad-looking for a man that age. Better than old Kingbury. She felt her heart begin to pound again. After that awful walloping she felt all funny. Dr Ritson, sitting on the bed was looking at her pussy. Sarah closed her eyes. And then it was his hand…

----//----

‘OK?’ asked Alex next morning.

‘Why didn’t you tell me!’ Sarah demanded, hotly remembering.

‘What?’ said Alex. Sarah said, ‘You know.’

‘Oh that. Well he’s not going to do it for nothing, is he?’

Sarah made a face. She still didn’t know if she was OK; not yet. She had to go back some more to Dr Ritson. He said twice a week until he could be sure she was in the clear. And he had made it pretty clear that each time she was going to get exactly the same as last night.