This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.
"You need your fuckin' brains tested if you thought I'd enjoy sitting in a crappy old bus for six hours with nothing to do just to get to some God forsaken place, miles from any fucking where, to go walking. Walking with a lot of old fogies. These old farts." She swept her arm around the occupants of the coach accompanied by a hiss of disgust. "You were just trying to stop me enjoying myself at home and being with my friends. I can look after my-fucking-self now Mother, I'm sixteen, getting on towards seventeen. You just wanted to re-live some long forgotten part of your childhood and you're making me suffer it too."
"Sit down Laurie, please, everyone's looking at us and you're spoiling their holiday as well."
"And what am I supposed to do when I sit down? Play counting the caravans we pass? Not even a video on this heap of crap."
"You're going to have to do something about her, Pete, before she upsets everyone. You're the organiser; I'm only the guide. She's done nothing but bitch ever since we started out and the rest of the passengers are getting upset. There'll be trouble soon if you can't sort it."
"I'll have a word with her and her mother Ted but I doubt if it will do much good." It didn't.
"Don't get on to me Mister," Laurie retaliated when Pete spoke to her, "It wasn't my fuckin' idea to come, so blame my bitch of a mother. Screw the rest of you." However, she did quieten down a little but, at intervals, out came another burst of invective aimed at her mother and other passengers on the coach and, while I couldn't hear much of her mother's replies, I could tell the timid woman was near to tears.
After two hours the coach pulled into a service station and the driver announced a half-hour break. "Hurry up woman, I need a piss and something to drink and to get out of this box for a bit." Laurie forced her way passed the others getting off.
Five minutes after we should have departed, Sheila Keens, Laurie's mother, came to the coach, "I can't find her. She went to the loo and I've not seen her since. Please don't go without us. I know she's been a nuisance but she is my daughter and you can't leave a young girl behind." Many of us would have done so willingly, but Bob, the driver, said we'd have to wait for an hour and then inform the police. We sent out search parties with instructions to return at each quarter of an hour. Three-quarters-of-an-hour later, an elderly lady dragged Laurie across the car park and almost pushed her into the coach.
"Sod you, sod the lot of you." Laurie made no apology for the lateness but stood and berated her mother once more.
As usual on coach trips of this kind, the organiser sits in the front seat so he can easily communicate with the driver if necessary, and I, being the unpaid guide for the walks, sat alongside him. My job as an assistant technologist at the university, gave me a long break in the summer with just a retaining salary and, while I didn't get paid, I get a free trip and meals for guiding the party along paths and tracks I'd walked on holidays for a number of years. Being a single, twenty-five year old, I hoped to get laid with one of the women from the holiday or from the hotel like I did last year, but I could see there wouldn't be much choice from those on the coach. Most were married, middle-aged couples, although there were two women together but I guessed their age to be in the sixties. Pete, alongside me, probably neared the fifty mark, but he'd never said his age. Laurie and her mother sat halfway along the coach and, with forty passengers, about ten seats remained vacant but many had bags piled on them.
We listened, as did all the others, to the loud vitriolic abuse Laurie aimed at her mother. By now, we again rolled smoothly along the motorway at a steady 70 mph. Pete started to get up. "Stay here Pete, I'll deal with her this time. Tell the driver to watch the road and not what I'm doing."
"Don't do anything you shouldn't..."
"I'll do what needs to be done."
Laurie's 5ft 5" thin frame stood no chance against my 6ft physique, fit from rugby and weight training and with surprise also on my side, before she realised I'd approached, she found herself over my shoulder and being carried towards the back of the bus.
"What the fucking-hell are you doing? Let me go before I get you arrested." I felt a few thumps on my back as her protests continued and she swore and shouted even louder. At one point she grabbed the back of a seat and held on preventing me from moving, but a passenger quickly released her grip and I made my way to the back seats, seats that go across the bus without arm rests; seats that are usually commandeered by courting couples but taken this time by the two ladies. One vacant seat in the row on this trip.
"Excuse me, would one of you mind moving for about ten minutes please? I need two seats together with some space to swing my arm." Laurie must have guessed my intention too. "You hit me you fucking shitbag and you'll end up in jail for assault. You daren't touch me. I'll fucking kill you bastard." One of the ladies moved but stood nearby while I manoeuvred Laurie across my right leg and held her down with my left over her back. Laurie didn't give in easily and I had difficulty in holding her with my left hand while my right fumbled for the front fastening of her jeans.
"Is this what you're trying to do?" the standing woman asked, deftly pulling the girl's jeans and knickers down to her knees and then held her ankles.
"Thanks," I replied and had a chance to look in Sheila Keens' direction. She stared out of the window and studiously ignored what I'd done.
SLAP! ... SLAP! ... I hit her arse cheeks as hard as I could with a short pause between and alternating on each cheek. Laurie screamed, swore and shook her head, throwing her long black hair in all directions. SLAP! ... SLAP! ... SLAP! ... SLAP! ... SLAP! ... SLAP! ... I continued hitting with all the force I could muster until the sobs came, the swearing eased and she began begging me to stop. By then her arse showed bright red against the whiteness of her thighs.
"Before I think about stopping Laurie, you have to stop swearing and agree to apologise to everyone on the coach for the unpleasantness you caused them, and especially to your mother and ... you have to agree to sit with me for the remainder of the trip."
"Go to fuckin' hell!" Another eight spanks changed her mind. "Alright, alright, just stop. I won't be able to sit anywhere now." I held her for several minutes hoping my erection wouldn't be noticed, but the woman released her ankles. Tears flowed down Laurie's face when I stood her up and held her around the waist. "Bastard," she hissed and tried to rub her arse.
"Careful Laurie," I warned, "I'm sure the lady won't mind giving up her seat again." She glared at me but said nothing more. Holding her jeans up but not fastening them, I led her down the aisle to her mother. Tears were in her eyes also. "Apologise," I prompted.
'Sorry Mother." I didn't expect much more.
To her surprise I continued to lead her to the front of the coach and turned her to face the passengers, "Apologise to them."
Again a mumbled, "Sorry."
Once more I turned her this time with her back to them. "From all the screaming and swearing, it might have sounded as though she was being murdered back there, but in fact no real damage was done, just a little warming of her rear, as you can see." Swiftly pulling her jeans down again and, baring her bum, I gave everyone about ten seconds to see the bright red colour and received several cries of approval. Laurie though, blushed with the humiliation and struggled to free herself from my grip.
"Pete, would you mind sitting with Sheila for the rest of the way please? Laurie has agreed to sit with me."
"Forced more like," she spat.
For the next hour, Laurie squirmed uncomfortably in the seat against the window while I had the aisle seat. Neither of us spoke, although she uttered little sobs every now and again, and glared at me when I frequently watched her. Every so often she clenched her fists, probably trying to decide if it was worth thumping me. Apparently it wasn't. Taking a risk, I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Come here Laurie, you need a hug now." Of course she resisted but in the end, gave in. "Hugging doesn't hurt and it may comfort you a little. Remember, from now on, if you act like a lady, I'll treat you like one; if you act the brat, we'll visit the back of the bus again."
An accident on the M6 had us crawling along for a while but eventually we approached the next service station stop. Bob signalled he wished to speak with me. "Look in the bottom drawer of the console, Ted." I did and saw a pair of handcuffs. "They're not official but many drivers have a pair in case of, shall we say, emergencies? If you want to borrow them so we don't lose her again, feel free to do so. We're nearly two hours behind schedule now, what with her delaying us at the last stop and the hold-up on the road." I dropped them in my pocket and when we arrived at the slip road to the service area, took Laurie's right arm and snapped one bracelet around her wrist and the other around mine. "What the hell?" she screamed.
.... There is more of this story ...