Part 2 of the classic from the original site, now restored and properly-formatted. In this story by Emma No Knickers, a grown woman is humiliated by her best friend’s teenage boyfriend.
The humiliating training of Emma (Part 2) by Emma No Knickers
Later that day Sharon again had to work, and Greg and my boyfriend went to the beach by themselves. I felt a little stiff and enjoyed the day on my own, wandering round in just a loose T-shirt with nothing else. I noticed the box with Greg’s uncle’s magazines inside and, feeling quite daring, I took a few out. This was the first time I had really seen them properly and I was fascinated by their content. I was even shocked to see actual ordinary people writing about themselves, and I was relieved to find out I was not the only girl who enjoyed a “smacked bum”.
I noticed that my introduction had seemed a little harsh and elaborate compared to the straightforward spankings and such like that seemed common. I recognised many of the positions that Greg had made me adopt for my thrashing and found the whole thing very exciting. I even stroked my bum and wondered if I should ask for some more tonight from my new-found “disciplinarian”. I went to sit in the garden to read some more and didn’t notice Sharon return. “Picking up some tips?” she laughed as she caught me engrossed in a story. I blushed as she smiled at me and told me Greg was planning my next ordeal for Saturday night, which was three days away.
When the boys arrived home Sharon couldn’t wait to tell them how I had been reading the magazines all day, and she said she thought I had looked disappointed to have to wait until Saturday for some more. By now I had put my jeans on and Greg told me to stand in front of him. He unfastened them and, along with my panties, pulled them down to my knees, spun me around and felt my bottom. In front of the grinning Sharon and James he pronounced that I might be able to have a few light spankings before Saturday, but he didn’t want my bum marked for my big night. He turned me to face him and even pulled up my panties and jeans for me. As he pulled the zipper up he smiled, “You must be one in a million, Emma.”
That night before we went to bed I went over his knee and he gave me a gentle teasing spanking which really put me in the mood for a night of wonderful sex with James. The following day we spent most of it on the beach and, although most of my marks had gone, I felt very self-conscious, especially as I was made to wear Sharon’s bikini.
In the afternoon Greg took my top off me and then I was made to go and fetch them all an ice cream. Although a few women were topless—something I had never even done—none were brazenly walking about. In the queue for the ice cream there were several grinning teenagers openly staring at me. I knew even my pubes could be seen at the sides of the pathetic strip of material that passed for a bikini. As the salesman handed me three ice creams he smiled leeringly and asked if I needed a hand.
On the way back I almost walked into a small boy, and his mother spat “Disgusting” as she pulled him away. To my horror, I saw several youths sat talking to Greg and, with my face as red as a post box, I handed him his ice cream. Their eyes were glued to me as I sat down and brought my knees up to my chest to try and cover myself up. I was introduced as Sharon’s friend Emma to the youths and, to my dismay, Greg went on to tell them he was having a little game with me because I had been a naughty girl. He told them it was he who had ordered me to take off my top and walk to the ice cream van, and how actually I liked being told what to do. They shook their heads in disbelief and one goaded Greg to “prove it”.
He calmly told me not to be a shy young lady and show his friends my tits, and again the strange thrill ran through me as I moved my legs and put my arms to my sides.
“Wow,” exclaimed one, and “Cool,” mocked another.
Greg went on to enforce his control of me and made me put my hands on my head. The grinning boys sat open-mouthed as Greg pinched my nipples, and they burst out laughing when he told them he had to spank my naughty bare bum to get me to behave myself. Sharon joined in my humiliation and confirmed it was all true, and then to add to my distress she asked them all to come round to the cottage to see for themselves tonight. They walked down the beach laughing loudly, and I was made to stay with my hands on my head for ten minutes. The looks I received were indescribable.
Before we went home, Greg said we were going to do a little shopping and we stopped outside a small novelty-come-joke shop. We all went inside and Greg led me to a corner which, to my amazement, contained an assortment of real spanking implements. I stared in awe at the items and a voice rang through the shop: “Do you need any help?”
A middle-aged woman was looking at us. As if he was talking about a loaf of bread he nonchalantly replied, “We’re looking for something for this naughty girl’s bottom.”
I couldn’t believe what was happening as Sharon and James began to pick up some things and look at them. They decided to each pick an instrument, and Sharon chose a shiny wooden paddle with the picture of a red bum on it. Next James picked up a black leather strap about eighteen inches long, while Greg practised a stroke with a real crook-handled cane.
I was desperate to leave, but then Greg announced it was my turn to choose. I didn’t think for a second I was going to have to pick something for my own torment. I looked at the rows of different-shaped paddles made of leather and wood and a rack full of mean-looking straps; on the floor was a container with more canes inside. Then I saw it—it was a genuine whip. It had a black handle and about twenty pieces of rubber about twelve inches long. I trembled as I picked it up and knew he would use it on my bare boobs again. The final humiliation was that I had to pay for them all myself, and I was surprised to find out how much they actually cost. The woman put them all in a bag and smiled at me: “Have a nice time with them, I’m sure you deserve it.”
Outside the shop, Greg laughed in amazement. “My God, Emma, you’re something else,” and Sharon added, “All we need now is to make her look like a five-year-old.”
It was like being in a daze as we went round the shops looking for something for me to wear. They took great delight in trying to imagine the most childish way to get me to dress. It was agreed that I needed to have some white knee-length socks, and then Sharon shouted she had the perfect answer. She knew a shop that sold school uniforms.
Once inside they told the assistant it was for a practical joke and persuaded her to let me buy a complete uniform. Sharon went into the changing room with me and, as I am quite slim but tall, the skirt was ridiculously short and she made me buy a blouse that was too tight. The curtain was left open and the assistant saw me naked trying on the clothes and looked at me like I was a cheap tart or something. Just as I was paying for everything Sharon burst out laughing and put a pair of dark green PE knickers on the counter. I was so far under their control I think I would have walked out of the shop stark naked if they had told me to.
Later on, Sharon helped me get ready and Greg had told me that he was not going to give me much of a thrashing tonight, but he was going to enjoy shaming me as much as possible in front of his friends. When they arrived, I was standing with my back to the door and my hands on my head. The whole room just filled with the sound of laughter. I had been told what I had to do and, as I turned around, my legs nearly fell from beneath me as I saw about six or seven teenage boys and two girls. I could hardly breathe and, slowly, as they were all found somewhere to sit, I walked up to the first one.
“Can I get you a drink, Sir?” I spoke in a shaky voice.
Each one gave me such a look of contempt as I continued with my task. And as I was not expecting any girls, I did not know what to call them. With my face as red as it had ever been I approached the two young girls—my God, they looked about nineteen. I looked at their amused expressions and nervously said, “Please may I get you a drink, Miss?” They could barely keep a straight face as I gave them their drinks.
Greg stood up and joined me in the middle of the room. It was only a small room and faces were everywhere.
“This is Emma,” he spoke, and told them all how I was a stuck-up bitch who needed bringing down a peg or two and, by sheer coincidence, they had found out I got some kind of thrill from it all.
He went on to say that for the next hour before they all went to the pub he was going to show them just what he could get me to do, and that he might need to smack my bum a little if I didn’t behave. My new toys were passed around for them all to look at, but Greg said for tonight he thought a spanking would be all I needed, as he was planning to give me a really hard thrashing on Saturday. Some of them smacked their hands with the implements and laughed how they would mark my arse if used properly, and just the thought of a severe thrashing was getting me worked up.
To begin with, Greg made me hold my skirt up and tell everyone what a stuck-up bitch I was and that my colleagues at work should see me like this, as it was “just what I deserved”.
He then turned me around and, with my skirt still held up, gave me a few hard smacks to my bum. I could hear stifled laughter and muted giggles from my audience when he pulled the ridiculous knickers to my knees. A few more good smacks to my bare bum had me hopping around trying to avoid his hand. He then took the knickers off me completely and threw them to one of his friends.
“Our little bitch won’t need these for a while,” he smiled.
The skirt fell back into place as once again I had to face them, and Greg proceeded to undo my tie. “I am going to strip you stark bollock naked. Are you looking forward to it?” And as I could only admit the truth and say “Yes please, Sir,” he grinned triumphantly.
My hands were held tightly behind my head as he unbuttoned the blouse and, as I had not been allowed a bra, my boobs came into view. I lowered my arms for him to remove the blouse and, as I put them back, he took hold of one of my nipples.
“Look at the state of these, lads,” he grinned. “We don’t need coat hangers here,” he mocked at my rigid nipples stuck out to the gaze of his grinning friends.
Now he unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. Naked apart from my shoes and socks I gasped with shame. He led me to a chair and took me over his knee.
“This is where the toffee-nosed bitch belongs,” he mocked, and gave me another brisk spanking. He then took hold of my sock and told me I was still overdressed for the occasion—only this time I was to go and ask someone else to take them off for me.
As I looked around the room, I caught the mocking smile of my boyfriend and for a moment I wondered what he really thought of my outrageous public display.
I lifted my leg onto the lap of the nearest boy. “Please, Sir, will you take my shoe off for me?” I said in an almost little-girl voice.
He seemed very unsure and nervous, but the next one was the total opposite. I had my arms by my side and he confidently told me to get them back on my head. Next, he pushed my knee to one side, almost making me lose my balance, and looked right at my pubic hair.
“I’m not sure little girls have all this,” he laughed and cruelly tugged at my pubes.
I couldn’t believe the contempt he was showing me and, when he had removed my shoe, he ran his finger along my wet slit. He still kept hold of my foot and lifted his finger to his nose.
“Smells like the fish yard,” he laughed, and everyone joined him.
