# S is for Spanking

Lucy Salisbury

Playful, outrageous and edgy, ‘S is for Spanking’ is another pacy, modern romp from the author of ‘A Study in Shame’.Intensely kinky erotica for anyone lusting after much more than ‘50 Shades of Grey’.Respectable PA Lucy Salisbury finds herself on a management training course that’s more like a boot camp.Everybody wants a piece of her, from the sadistic head instructor to her cruel and wanton ex-girlfriend, Juliette Fisher.Always a sucker for a strong man or a cruel, demanding woman, Lucy finds herself on the receiving end of rough sex, spanking and bondage. Lucy tries to handle the demands of half-a-dozen lovers at once, while simultaneously trying not to sully her precious reputation.Other titles in the Lucy Salisbury series are:A Study in ShameMy Secret Life in Paris

## S for Spanking. Lucy Salisbury

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue: Lucy, Juliette and the Cane

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

More from Mischief

About Mischief

Copyright

About the Publisher

## Prologue. Lucy, Juliette and the Cane

I could remember every detail of the day Juliette Fisher first gave me the cane. It was an experience so full of shame and yet so exciting that I had never been able to come to terms with it, any more than I’d been able to get over the feelings of subservience she’d generated within me. Obedience to a strong, cruel will had become the key to my sexuality, along with the pain and shame of physical punishment, just as that first caning became the key to her relationship with me.

The chill of the air on my bare legs as I ran, the faint tang of burning leaves, the autumn colours on the trees along the river, every detail has remained clear in my mind ever since. Juliette was leaning on the rail of the bridge, tall and poised in black jeans and a sweater, Sunday clothes, her long dark hair caught up in a ponytail, a faint but wicked smile on her lips. I already knew I was in trouble, and just as surely I knew that I’d fight, and lose.

‘Hello, Lucy.’

She sounded cheerful. My own voice was a sigh.

‘Hello, Juliette.’

‘Why didn’t you report to my study this morning?’

‘Because … because I didn’t want to be spanked!’

‘You didn’t want to be spanked? And what did we say about your spankings?’

‘But somebody might have heard, and then they’d know, and …’

‘What did we say about your spankings, Lucy? Answer me!’

I was looking at my feet as I answered, barely able to mumble the words.

‘We said they had to be real, so you could do it whenever you felt I needed it, or … or if I’d been naughty.’

Just to say the word made me choke with shame, but there was no denying the sudden heat between my thighs. It was ridiculous that I went to her for spankings, impossibly inappropriate, let alone as punishment for my supposed naughtiness. Yet it happened and it was going to happen again, because however small and stupid and weak it made me feel, I needed it and I needed it from her. She knew, and she was enjoying herself, drawing out my humiliation as she went on.

‘Yes, Lucy, if you’d been naughty, and you had been naughty, hadn’t you?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘No? Going about with no knickers on under your skirt?’

‘You made me take them off!’

‘That’s irrelevant. It’s disgraceful, going about with no knickers, but it’s not as bad as failing to report for your spanking. You’re in big trouble, Lucy, but I’m not going to spank you.’

‘No?’

My disappointment showed in my voice even as relief washed over me. I’d been imagining how I’d look, laid across Juliette’s knee with my knickers pulled well down and my bare bottom stuck up in the air, my cheeks bouncing to the slaps as she spanked me, a vision at once horrible and deeply compelling. Now it looked as if it wasn’t going to happen, or so I thought for a moment.

‘No, Lucy, I’m not going to spank you. I’m going to cane you.’

‘Cane me? What do you mean, cane me?’

‘I mean, Lucy, exactly what I say. I’m going to cane you. I’m going to make you touch your toes, I’m going to turn up your skirt and pull down your knickers, supposing you have any on, and I’m going to give you six of the best on your bare bottom.’

I tried to answer her, but all that came out was a squeak as she took me by the ear. There was every chance that somebody would see, and I was struggling immediately, but she didn’t seem to care. I was led up the bank towards the main buildings, where altogether too many people were milling about and she was forced to let go. Not that it made any difference. She had me, and I followed like a puppy at heel, across the quad and indoors, where she took hold of me again, this time by my arm, to march me up to the first floor and along the corridor to the study she shared with two other girls.

Nobody seemed to be about, to my immense relief, but that came to an abrupt end when I was pushed in through the door to find both Emily and Claire seated at their desks. Both knew there was something between me and Juliette, while Juliette had already told me that it would turn her on to punish me in front of somebody else, so my fear and chagrin turned to something close to panic as I realised I was about to have an audience. It never even occurred to me that I could have walked away, or told Juliette she’d have to wait. Instead I began to babble, and so robbed myself of my last chance of escape.

‘No, Juliette, please! Not in front of them, that’s not fair! It’s just not fair!’

She might have done it anyway, more likely not, but she couldn’t possibly back down in front of her friends. Claire looked up.

‘What are you going to do to her?’

Juliette didn’t even hesitate, replying as if what she was about to do was perfectly acceptable, even normal.

‘I’m going to cane her. Touch your toes, Lucy.’

I might have hoped they’d come to my rescue, or at least had the decency to leave the room, but they weren’t Juliette’s friends for nothing. Claire laughed for the thought of what was to be done to me, but Emily was worse.

‘Go on then, do her hard!’

Juliette pushed me into the centre of the room and closed the door behind her, not even bothering to put the latch on.

‘I said, touch your toes, Lucy. Come on, feet apart and over you go.’

I hesitated, full of misery for my own weakness but badly in need of the beating Juliette was about to give me. The window was right in front of me and I could see out across the quad, where two of my friends were talking together while the warden stalked across the grass, his black gown flapping around his ankles. The scene was so calm, so normal that it seemed insane that I was about to bend over to have my knickers pulled down and a cane used on my naked bottom. Still I went over, burning with shame as I put my fingertips to the toes of my trainers, but quite unable to stop myself. My hair had fallen down around my head, so I could hardly see at all, save for my socks and shoes where I was stood on a patch of dark-red carpet. Juliette spoke from somewhere above and behind me.

‘You see, I told you I’d find a use for this.’

She laughed, so cruel, and I found myself twisting my head around to look out from under the curtain of blonde strands that obscured my face, to find her holding a long, crook-handled school cane. I’d never seen anything so terrifying in my life, and it looked old too, making me wonder how many other unfortunate girls had been forced to adopt the same humiliating position while it was used across their bottoms. Whatever the answer, I was next, terrified of the thing but unable to move, even with the two girls watching, delighted by my fate and not even bothering to hide their reaction. When Emily spoke her voice was rich with excitement.

‘Strip her, Juliette. Make her go bare.’

Juliette was as cool as ever as she answered.

‘Naturally I’m going to make her go bare. You don’t think I’d leave her any modesty, do you? Her skirt’s coming up and her knickers are coming down, aren’t they, Lucy? If you have any on today, that is. Now open wide.’

I shook my head in a denial as pathetic as it was pointless, and I’d barely taken in her final instruction, only to have the long, hard bar of the cane pressed to my lips as she spoke again.

‘Hold it in your mouth, stupid.’

I obeyed, taking the cane between my teeth. She stood up once more, to take hold of the hem of my skirt, her voice now full of laughter as she lifted it to show off the seat of my panties.

‘Here we go, up comes the skirt. Oh, she has got knickers on, that makes a change, rather pretty ones too, don’t you think, girls? Oh, but look at this, she’s all wet! What a disgrace you are, Lucinda Salisbury!’

Claire and Emily were giggling as they moved to inspect the gusset of my knickers, which I’d known was embarrassingly moist, and why, but I couldn’t help but try and defend myself, pulling the cane from my mouth to speak.

‘I was running!’

Juliette laughed.

‘A likely story! You’re wet, aren’t you, you slut, not sweaty, wet, wet, wet with juice? You’re wet because you get off on having your bottom smacked, don’t you?’

I shook my head, and with that I’d begun to cry, overcome with emotion for what was being done to me and for my helpless reaction. Juliette gave a short, curt laugh, pure contempt.

‘What a big baby, and her knickers aren’t even down yet! Come on then, let’s have you bare … and down come the knickers!’

She’d done it as she spoke, taking hold of my knickers and peeling them down off my bottom, not just around my thighs to leave me bare for the cane, but all the way to my knees so that they remained stretched taut between my open legs. I knew my sex was visible from behind, just as the gusset of my knickers had been and, worse still, I could feel the cool air between my cheeks where the sweaty little dimple of my anus showed. Claire gave an excited giggle, Emily a low purr.

‘Go on, Juliette, beat her.’

Juliette didn’t answer, but she’d begun to touch, her hands pressing to the flesh of my bottom, then exploring my cheeks and between as the others watched. There was no restraint, her fingers digging deep to spread me open and loitering on the mouth of my anus before moving lower, to penetrate me. She’d already had my virginity and her fingers went in easily, adding to my choking shame as my secret was revealed to the two watching girls, with my soaking hole held open for their inspection. By then the tears were streaming down my face, but Juliette knew me too well to stop, continuing her exploration of my bottom and sex, then finishing by hauling my top up over my breasts to strip me of every last vestige of dignity. Only then did she bend down to take the cane from between my teeth.

I braced myself, expecting the agony of the first stroke at any instant. Just to take a spanking from her was all I could bear, and I was sure the cane would hurt a thousand times more. As she laid the awful thing across the flesh of my bottom I began to tread up and down on my feet in an agony of apprehension, and to babble.

‘Not too hard, please, Juliette. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do anything … anything you like, but not too hard, just not too hard!’

She lifted the cane and I screamed as I heard it swish down, only for Claire and Emily to dissolve in laughter as Juliette deliberately missed her target. I tried to say something but couldn’t, my breath now ragged and my body shaking and wet with sweat as she brought the cane up a second time. Down it came with that awful swishing sound, only to miss once again and leave me stamping my feet and bawling my eyes out in fear and consternation. Again she lifted the horrible thing, and this time when it came down it hit the target, a hard stroke delivered full across the crest of my bottom to make me scream once more, then leap to my feet, clutching at my cheeks and jumping up and down like some mad kangaroo to the tune of all three girls laughing.

Finally I managed to present myself once again, my head hung low, my breath coming in gasps, my knickers now around one ankle, but my bottom pushed out for the second stroke of Juliette’s cane. I didn’t know if I could take all six, but I was going to try, and when she was done with me I was going to get down on my knees, with my bare red bottom showing behind, and lick her to ecstasy in front of both her friends. Again the cane settled across my bottom as Juliette spoke.

‘That’s one, Lucy, and now … no, on second thoughts get up and go and stand in the corner with your bum on show. I’ll give you the remaining five next week.’

## Chapter One

Five years had passed since my relationship with Juliette Fisher, but what we’d done together had left an indelible mark. For all my success at university and in the jobs market I’d never been able to get over my love for shameful erotic situations, and the slightest mention of spanking still made my tummy flutter, while the thought of the cane terrified me. As PA to the boss of an old, established and traditional company I’d had to keep my feelings to myself, aside from a few glorious moments of self-indulgence with boyfriends and with my colleague, Stacey Atkinson.

Stacey was a carefully guarded secret because for all that the company paid lip service to tolerance and equality we both knew full well that a lesbian affair would hurt our careers, while even a hint of anything kinky was likely to bring them to an abrupt halt. We both knew the risks, but I needed my fix of punishment and humiliation just as she needed hers for sex with another woman, which made us an ideal match. Otherwise I’d kept a strict rule of never accepting a proposition from anybody within the company or associated with the company. It was a shame, because I’d had several tempting offers, but I knew what would happen if I accepted. If the night was a success I’d let myself go, demanding the satisfaction of my deeper needs, including having my bottom smacked. Boys will be boys, and they do like to boast, so it was sure to be all over the office within a few days, with disastrous consequences.

When I was put up for a management training course in the West Country I was delighted to find that Stacey would be there too, but I was less happy to discover that three of our male colleagues were also going. There was Alastair Renton, a busy young man who looked as if he ought to have been a Spitfire pilot and was plainly fast-tracked for the top; Daniel Chambers, pushier still and even better looking, with a bad reputation to match, but just not as good, and Paul Yates, a great bear of a man said to be brilliant on computers but with a reputation as the office clown. The course was all about leadership and involved a lot of running around in the countryside, while every second word in the brochure we’d been given seemed to be ‘team’, but I still hoped to find the occasional private moment with Stacey during what looked like being a highly physical and challenging couple of weeks.

The great thing about having a clandestine relationship with another woman is that you can get away with far more than an ordinary couple could, or even two men. When Stacey and I said we’d forego our places in the minibus and take the train down the day before my boss made a comment about sticking with the team, but that was all. Nor did the staff at The Plough, a remote country pub where we’d chosen to stay the night, show any surprise when we booked a double room. We were in a tiny village more than five miles from Camp Aspiration, where the course was happening, and as we unloaded our bags I was looking forward to a delightfully naughty afternoon.

Our room was tucked in under the eaves at the top of the building, with a single, small window looking out over the beer garden and across the woods and fields of the Exe Valley, with the loom of Dartmoor beyond. Just to breathe the air was a pleasure, after being stuck in London all winter, while I couldn’t help but feel carefree, even irresponsible. We hadn’t quite had the nerve to ask for a double bed, but both the ones we’d been given were big enough for two, at least while we were up to no good. I bounced down on the one nearest the window and lay back, my arms and legs spread out in a star.

‘This should be a lot of fun, being with you anyway. I expect the course will be pretty silly.’

Stacey turned from where she’d been investigating the bathroom.

‘Why silly?’

‘Oh, you know, all this team business and outdoor stuff, when management’s really all about who you know and how you look and that sort of thing. Do you think Mr Scott would have chosen me as his PA if I’d been short and dumpy with a thick Birmingham accent?’

‘No, probably not, but going on the course will look good on our CVs.’

‘Oh, I know that, but I don’t expect it to be of any real practical value. It’s just boys’ games, really, you know, an excuse to show off a bit of machismo.’

‘You are going to try, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, of course, if only to show Daniel and Alastair up, but don’t expect me to volunteer for anything that involves getting unnecessarily wet or muddy. The boys can do it while we look on in admiration, staying nice and clean and dry.’

She laughed.

‘You know your trouble, Lucy. You’ve had it too easy. I bet you were daddy’s little princess, weren’t you?’

‘I was at public school, most of the time, and it wasn’t easy at all.’

‘Oh, you poor baby! Weren’t the servants sufficiently respectful? Was the caviar not of the best quality?’

It was my turn to laugh, remembering what it had really been like, but her mocking tone had got to me and I couldn’t resist answering her back.

‘We didn’t get caviar, but the servants were mostly girls like you, only they knew their place.’

I knew what was going to happen and was already snatching for a pillow as she scrambled across the other bed to get at me. My blow caught her full across the side of her face and from that moment I was in serious trouble. She called me a bitch as she pulled back to grab one of the pillows from the other bed, which left her in a crawling position for one perfect moment, with the seat of her tight blue jeans a perfect target. I brought my pillow home with every ounce of my strength, full across her bottom, a small victory but a very satisfying one. It was also my last.

She was on me in an instant, twisting around to bring her pillow down on my head, and once again before she stood up, towering above me as she rained down blows. I tried to defend myself, smacking my pillow at her legs and hips, but she was bigger and stronger. She also wanted to win, while my will to resist was fading with every smack of her pillow on my body. I soon rolled back, my efforts to hit her ever more pathetic as she laid in, hard and accurate, until I lost my pillow and curled up, my hands covering my face, my bottom on offer as a target. She took full advantage of my surrender, pummelling me with the pillow as I begged for mercy, although that was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t get it either, smack after smack applied to my back and legs and arms, but with ever more attention to my bottom, until at last she threw her pillow aside, twisted one of my arms into the small of my back and began to use her hand instead, talking to me as she gave hard, purposeful slaps to the seat of my jeans.

‘Girls like me, were they, Lucy? Girls who knew their place? I bet they did, and I bet they knew yours too, miss high-and-mighty, hoity-toity public school girl, swanning around like the stuck-up little bitch you are. Giving out orders and having them run around after you all day, was it? Yeah, sure, that’s really you. More like over their knees with your panties pulled down and your bottom bare for a good spanking, which is exactly what you’re about to get!’

‘No! Please, Stacey, not that. Don’t spank me, please!’

She just laughed at me, enjoying my discomfort as I began to squirm in her grip but knowing full well that the only way to really punish me would be to stop. That wasn’t going to happen, because whatever my reaction, she was going to thoroughly enjoy taking her feelings out on my bottom. Her sense of social inferiority was very real, which meant it was going to hurt, and that she’d do her best to humiliate me as well. Sure enough, the spanking stopped and her hand burrowed in to tug at the button of my jeans as she spoke once more.

‘Right, you little snob, let’s have these trousers down and see how superior you look with your knickers on show. Get your legs down, now!’

A hard slap to my thighs and I’d done as I was told, uncurling to let her get at my jeans, which had quickly been pulled down around my thighs to leave the pretty pink silk panties I’d chosen that morning on display. She gave a tut of mock disapproval and treated herself to a quick feel of my bottom before she went on.

‘Oh very fancy! Quite the little princess, aren’t you? I bet you even wear a matching bra, don’t you?’

‘So do you!’

She ignored my comment as she pulled up my blouse to inspect my bra, gave another scornful little tut when she discovered it was in the same style as my panties, then abruptly tugged it up to spill out my breasts. I couldn’t help but protest.

‘Not my tits, Stacey! Why do I need my tits bare to be spanked?’

‘Maybe I want to spank your tits?’

My response was a squeal as she suited action to word, slapping her open palm across the side of one bare breast and then the other. It stung far worse than across my bottom and I couldn’t help but defend myself, only to have my wrists caught and my arms pinned under her legs as she climbed up onto the bed. With me squirming helpless in her grip she began to slap my breasts again, her face full of excitement and cruelty as she watched my flesh jiggle to the smacks.

‘Ow! Stacey, that hurts!’

‘It’s supposed to hurt, you silly bitch, and it’s much more satisfying than smacking your fat little arse. You enjoy that too much.’

‘Don’t be a bitch, please, Stacey? Ow! Ow!’

She just laughed and gave another hard slap across both my boobs, which had now begun to pink up, while my nipples looked as if they were about to pop. I closed my eyes, trying to resign myself to my punishment but unable to hold back my cries or stop myself from wriggling about as she continued work on my chest, slapping my boobs up to a rosy pink colour before she finally decided to turn her attention to my bottom.

‘Right then, enough of that. Roll over.’

I obeyed, snivelling slightly and feeling very sorry for myself indeed as I turned face down on the bed. She straddled my back, seating herself so that she could keep me in place and get at my bottom. I could feel the heat of her sex through her jeans, bringing to mind what was sure to be done to me once I’d been punished, but I had to get through my spanking first. Stacey knew she had me helpless, both physically and mentally, and her voice was calm and amused as she spoke again.

‘Right then, let’s see shall we, what’s to be done with you? First, as you have such pretty panties on, I think they’d better come down, don’t you? It would be a shame to ruin them, after all. There we are, bare bottom, and don’t you look pretty?’

She’d pulled my knickers down as she spoke, inverting them around my thighs to join the tangled cloth of my jeans and leaving me bare and ready, my smarting breasts already naked and now my bottom too. My spanking began, Stacey laughing as she started to slap my cheeks, one hand on each to make my flesh bounce and my slit open to show off my anus. I buried my face in the coverlet, letting the awful shame of my position sink slowly in, a smart, professional woman stripped and spanked by her friend. It was hard to imagine a more undignified position, for all I knew that there were plenty of ways she could have made it worse for me, like stripping me nude, making me kneel so that my wet, open cunt showed to the room, or sticking something up me while I was beaten. None of it would have been any more than window dressing, just as having my jeans and knickers pulled down was, and even the pain of Stacey’s increasingly hard slaps. What really mattered was that I was taking a spanking, willingly, and the way I reacted to it, so turned on that in no time at all I’d begun to stick my bottom up for more. Stacey laughed to see the state I was in.

‘Oh dear, what a little slut you are! You really like it, don’t you?’

She never had fully understood, but that made it all the more exciting when she did it, along with the faint contempt she could never quite conceal. This time she didn’t even bother to try, her voice openly mocking as she continued to spank me.

‘How can you get off on this, Lucy? I mean, seriously, to let somebody spank you, as if you’ve been a naughty little girl, and to get off on it! And all the business about having your panties pulled down and being made to go bare afterwards, with your little red bum on parade around your own fucking flat! You are such a dirty little slut, but I do love you for it, and I’ve got to say, I love doing it to you.’

I’d given in completely, my bottom stuck high to the smacks, every word she’d said burning in my mind. She was beating on my cheeks as if she was playing the bongos, another way she liked to play with my bottom, but I wanted it harder, and I wanted to come.

‘Use something on me, Stacey. Make me come.’

She gave a curt little tut, but leant across to where I’d put my hairbrush down on my bedside table, half hoping it might end up being used on my bottom. I knew I could make it, if she got the smacks just right, across the tuck of my cheeks so that every impact sent a jolt to my cunt. The very first made me cry out in mingled ecstasy and pain, because it hurt a lot more than her hand, and as she set up a firm, even rhythm across my cheeks she’d begun to talk to me once more.

‘Just look at you, Lucy. You really should be ashamed of yourself, shouldn’t you? I know you are, deep down, and that’s what really gets you off, isn’t it? But just think how much worse it could be. If only the boys in the office could know. Imagine it, Miss Lucinda Salisbury, the ice princess, the one woman who never, ever lets her guard down, and she likes her bare bottom spanked! Imagine if Daniel and Alastair and fat boy Paul were here to see you now, with your panties down and your red bum cheeks spread open to show off your little pink arsehole and your lovely wet cunt.’

I’d begun to moan, unable to hold back my excitement even as my body jerked to the hard smacks now being delivered full across the fleshy turn of my bum cheeks. My thoughts followed the scene she was painting, with the three young men watching me being punished just to add to my awful humiliation, enjoying the view of my bare, smacked tits and my wriggling bottom, my twitching bumhole and open cunt, as well as my helpless arousal and the thought of how they might take advantage.

‘They’d fuck me, Stacey. They’d push you off and fuck me.’

‘Oh no they wouldn’t, darling. They wouldn’t need to. I’d sit on your back while they did you, taking turns to make you suck their cocks hard while I spanked you, then spit roasting you, with Daniel and Alastair in your mouth and up your cunt, from behind, Lucy, with your sweet little bottom spread to show you off while he fucks you. That’s right, darling, one in each hole, and Paul would take photographs to put on the net, photographs of you getting your smacked bottom fucked while you suck cock, you filthy, darling little bitch! That’s right, Lucy, come, come while I spank you!’

As she spoke she’d been spanking all the time, harder and harder, until I finally hit my peak, screaming out in ecstasy as my body locked in orgasm. She let me finish, just, before tossing the hairbrush aside and lifting her bottom to let me twist around beneath her. I knew what was coming, still in breathless ecstasy as she pushed down her jeans and straddled me once more, squatting over my face with her cunt against my mouth as she spoke again.

‘You’re right, Lucy, I do know my place, sat on top of you with my pussy in your face. Now get licking!’

* * *

Once she was done, Stacey and I got into bed, meaning to cuddle for a little before going out to explore the area. Drowsy with sex and the warm, spring air, we were soon asleep and didn’t wake up until nearly six. We showered together, slipped on light dresses we’d both brought in the hope of relatively civilised evenings and went downstairs to eat. The Plough was a typical old-fashioned country pub, with a large public bar and a saloon that doubled up as the restaurant. We chose an alcove where a window opened out through one of the immensely thick walls, allowing us to sit in comfort and privacy while watching what was going on around us. Part of the public bar was visible through an open door, and as we sat sipping wine and waiting for our food we’d both begun to study the locals. Stacey knew my tastes and couldn’t resist teasing.

‘Which one for you then? How about the one who looks like a lumberjack boss?’

‘Stacey! If you mean the man in the red shirt, he has to be sixty, at least.’

‘So what? He’s big, he’s rough, and just look at his hands.’

I couldn’t help but do it, my eyes going straight to where Stacey had indicated. He’d just lifted his pint of beer, and I had to admit that she had a point. His hands were huge, his skin rough and dark from the sun and the wind, his fingers at least twice as thick as my own. If he’d been holding me, each hand could have cupped most of my bottom, and I immediately found myself imagining how it would feel to be across his knee, which sent the blood rushing to my face. Stacey laughed for how easily she’d got to me and tried again.

‘Or how about Redbeard the Pirate over there, at the table next to the bar? He must be six foot six, and he looks just the sort to carry you off over his shoulder and do unspeakable things to you in the bushes.’

She knew full well it was one of my favourite fantasies, while the man also looked quite like my boyfriend, Magnus, back in London, so I stuck my tongue out at her and tried to get her back.

‘How about you then? Maybe the old boy drinking red wine, the military type. He’d soon have you doing drill, and when you messed up …’

She knew what I was implying, as she was from an army family, and her mouth came open in shock as the blood went to her face in turn.

‘Lucy, you are the limit! Anyway, I don’t go for older men, unlike you. There’s only one man I’d even consider, Mr Blue at the far end of the bar.’

It was obvious who she meant. He was a little over six foot tall, with a pale-blue top that showed every detail of a superbly muscled torso, baggy white tracksuit bottoms that nevertheless hinted at an intriguingly large bulge in his crotch, and obviously expensive trainers. I couldn’t really deny that he was attractive, but while he undoubtedly radiated confidence, even arrogance, he seemed to me to lack the charm a man like that needs in order to appeal to me. There was something else too, perhaps in the way he held himself, maybe simply the way he was dressed, or something less easily defined.

‘He’s gay.’

‘What, because he’s showing off his muscles? He’s probably been running.’

‘Why isn’t he sweating then?’

‘OK, so he’s about to go for a run.’

At that moment the man turned in our direction too suddenly to allow us to hide our rather obvious attention. I found myself blushing again, but Stacey merely smiled, far better able to handle the situation than I was. Fortunately we were saved by the landlord, who’d just asked Mr Blue a question, and the arrival of our food. Nevertheless, I was feeling a little uneasy as we settled down to eat, and all the more so when I was obliged to make a trip to the loo and found his eyes following me all the way and all the way back. Stacey was merely amused, and a little excited.

‘He’s not gay then, is he? His eyes were glued to your arse, not that I blame him, if you must wiggle like that, you little show off.’

‘I wasn’t wiggling! What if he makes a pass at me?’

‘Turn him down. Maybe he’ll try me instead.’

‘Stacey, you wouldn’t! You’re supposed to be with me, at least while we’re away together.’

‘That’s OK, you can watch. Or maybe I’ll spank you in front of him to get things going. I bet he’d love that, right after you’d turned him down.’

‘Stacey!’

‘I’m only joking, silly. He is nice, but like you say, we’re together. Besides, if he approached you first I’d hardly take him up on an offer later, would I? I do have some pride. Shall I get another bottle?’

‘Yes, why not?’

The man continued to watch us as we drank our wine, sometimes from the corner of his eyes, sometimes openly. Stacey had grown bored with the game and ignored him, but it was harder for me because of where I was sitting; I found it impossible not to glance in his direction from time to time. He noticed and his interest increased, making me ever more flustered and less able to look away. I was sure he was going to come over to us at any moment, and wasn’t at all looking forward to the embarrassment of having to turn him down. Finally Stacey got fed up with my behaviour.

‘Look, Lucy, if you want to go three in a bed that’s fine, but either go and invite him over or stop flirting with him.’

‘I’m not flirting with him!’

‘Yes you are, and you know it. OK, I’ll go and talk to him then.’

She’d already half risen and I quickly reached out to put my hand over hers and stop her, although I was no longer sure what I wanted. The wine we’d drunk had started to get to me, and he did have a very fine body, while Stacey’s threat to spank me in front of him had triggered one of my favourite fantasies, punishment in front of a man who then got to do as he pleased with my body, which would be more humiliating by far if I’d turned him down earlier. He’d seen it too, and now he knew that something was up, bringing my feelings of shame and uncertainty up further still. Stacey spoke as she sat down again.

‘You go then. Look, he’s looking right at you.’

He was, leaning against the bar with his drink in one hand, watching us with open admiration. I imagined his amusement as I was turned over Stacey’s knee in front of him, and how he’d be thinking what a little pervert I was to get off on being spanked by my friend even as his cock started to grow to the sight of my rear view being exposed. Or maybe he’d want to do me too, and once I’d been reduced to a red-bottomed, tear-stained mess he’d certainly want me to take his cock in my mouth and complete my humiliation by sucking him off. I could do it too, if I just had a few minutes of easy, friendly conversation to let me know that whatever his reaction to my sexuality he genuinely thought of me as more than just a sexy body with a set of conveniently wet holes to stick his erection into.

‘OK, I’ll do it.’

I got up, less than perfectly steady on my feet and feeling very insecure indeed. He saw and gave me a grin that was pure, arrogant self-assurance, to which I returned a nervous smile. I reached the bar and he said something I didn’t catch as the landlady spoke to me, asking if Stacey and I would like any dessert. The moment was broken, and once I’d politely refused and she’d moved away I found myself standing next to him at the bar, completely lost. He wasn’t, moving close and putting one strong hand on the small of my back as he spoke.

‘Hey, Blondie, how about I slip eight inches of rock-hard dick up your sweet little cunt?’

As he spoke his hand had strayed down to the turn of my bottom. It was far too much, far too soon. Before I really knew what I was doing I’d swung around, to plant a slap full across his face, hard enough to knock him back and leave a livid handprint on his flesh. For one awful moment I thought he was going to hit me back, but he got himself under control just as the landlord returned to the bar, while three men at the nearest table had half risen from their seats. There was a brief, aggressive exchange of words, which I barely took in save that the other four males all seemed keen to take my side. Then Mr Blue had swallowed his drink at a gulp and walked out even as the landlord told him he was barred, which left me trying to assure four men and Stacey that everything was alright.

It wasn’t. I felt guilty, both for the way I’d reacted, which wasn’t really fair, and for the way everybody else had turned on Mr Blue. Stacey and I had been flirting, and even if he’d overstepped the mark he hadn’t deserved his face slapped and the very public humiliation of being thrown out of the pub. I wanted to apologise, and I felt drunk and off balance too, so pretended I was in need of a trip to the Ladies and then slipped outside. It was dark, with a single yellow light illuminating a double line of cars and trees showing black against a starry sky beyond. There was no sign of Mr Blue, save possibly a pair of red tail lights moving away down the lane, but the fresh air was very welcome indeed.

I walked to the end of the car park, where an ancient and wheel-less Volkswagen camper van had been left to rust beside the hedge. It gave me the shelter I felt I needed and I propped myself against it, drinking in the cool, clean air in an effort to clear my head, only to jump at the sound of approaching footsteps.

‘You OK, love?’

‘Yes, really …’

It was Redbeard the Pirate, who’d been among the men keen to take my side. We spoke for a moment, and there was no mistaking his desire for me. I half wanted to give in, but couldn’t overcome my own ill feelings for what had just happened until he put an arm around my shoulder, an arm like a tree trunk. I stiffened automatically, but only for an instant before I’d allowed myself to be gathered in against his chest. He began to talk, in a rumbling bass, attempting to comfort me with clumsy words that I barely heard. Yet I couldn’t help but react to his touch, my body trembling badly, and it was just too easy to accept the comfort of his arms.

I could feel a hard bulge swelling against my belly even as he assured me there was nothing to worry about. Had he simply taken me then and there I wouldn’t have resisted. My defences were down and I was drunk and horny, as well as feeling guilty for being a tease, and he was so very obviously turned on. Yet I knew that it would have to be me who made the first open move. I didn’t say a word as I slid his zip open, nor as I went down on my knees to pull out his cock, straight into my mouth. He reacted with a low moan, but accepted his tribute, letting me suck as he leant back against the side of the camper van. The feel of his cock in my mouth was more comforting than anything, at first, but as he began to stiffen up I was getting increasingly eager. My hand went up my dress and down the front of my panties as I began to masturbate him into my mouth.

His hand settled on the back of my head, to take me gently but firmly by the hair, holding me in place. I had no intention of stopping, but it felt nice, a big, strong male hand to make sure I gave my blow job properly. He’d already begun to groan, and I began to rub harder, my fingers bumping over my clitoris as I sucked and licked and kissed at his straining erection, trying to be a good girl for him but determined to keep him back from the edge until I too was ready to come. Only when I felt my cunt begin to tighten did I take him deep in once more, as far as I could, deliberately squashing his helmet into my throat to make myself gag, a gloriously dirty thing to do and one with inevitable consequences. I felt his grip tighten in my hair and he gave an urgent grunt, jamming his cock yet deeper into my throat as he came. Spunk erupted into my gullet and I was struggling to swallow and delighting in my own filthy behaviour as I brought myself to a long, hard orgasm with my mouth still full of come and thick, hard cock.

## Chapter Two

I was glad to leave The Plough the following morning, as the entire incident was acutely embarrassing and not in a good way, although I did have Redbeard’s number tucked into my back pocket. Stacey agreed, and we settled up as soon as we’d finished our breakfast and called a cab. The driver had never heard of Camp Aspiration, but we finally managed to work out that it was what he called the old airfield, which didn’t sound particularly promising. It didn’t look it either, to judge by the high chain-link fence running through dense pine woods, or the ancient gate, complete with rusting red- and white-striped barrier and sentry box, outside which our own company minibus was just pulling up. They stopped and Daniel climbed down from the rear doors as Stacey and I got out of the cab. Beyond the gate a stretch of eroded tarmac ran between a pair of massive concrete blocks. A group of shabby wooden huts was visible in the distance and I found myself grimacing in distaste as I turned to the others.

‘Are you sure this is the right place? It looks pretty primitive.’

Daniel pointed to a new and brightly painted sign which had been hidden by the minibus, stating that we’d reached ‘Camp Aspiration, Management Training Centre’.

‘It’s supposed to be primitive. They’re big on self-reliance.’

He flexed his muscles and drew in a deep breath of air, then strode to the barrier and pushed down on the counterweight. Nothing happened, but he pushed harder and it finally rose with a rusty groan. I shared a despairing look with Stacey before we threw our bags into the back of the minibus and climbed in behind. Alastair was driving, with Paul slumped across a triple seat, fast asleep with his hands closed over his ample stomach.

We drove in, with Daniel jogging alongside us, between the double line of huts to a crossroads with larger buildings to either side. Some were obviously disused, others freshly painted in a dull, dark green with white numbers or lettering that appeared to have been applied with a stencil, and suggested exactly the sort of pseudo-military attitude I’d been dreading. There was even an assault course, visible among the trees to one side, which looked as if it included water, mud and hair-raising apparatus. I hid a sigh as I climbed down to the ground, but the others seemed full of enthusiasm, except for Paul, who was still asleep. Alastair gave him a shove.

‘Wake up, Porkchop, you’re showing us up.’

Another group had emerged from one of the buildings, grinning as they approached us. We exchanged greetings, all doing our best to show how energetic and confident we were. Paul hauled himself upright and tumbled out of the minibus to look around with an expression of open horror.

‘What the fuck is this?’

One of the other group answered him, a tall, slim man with square shoulders, a crew cut and sunglasses.

‘Camp Aspiration. Hi, I’m Chad.’

His accent was pure Midwest American and he’d extended a hand as he spoke. Paul ignored the offer, blinking in the bright sunlight.

‘I’m in fucking Alabama.’

I’d shaken Chad’s hand myself so as not to give offence, but I could see he was less than impressed by Paul’s attitude. He carried on anyway.

‘Good to see you guys. We were the first here and there are two more groups to come, fifteen people in all, according to the roster. We’re going to be in four competitive groups, eleven guys and four gals. That’s Mess, the big hangar’s Assembly and the gym, we bunk as teams in the huts.’

He’d been pointing to various buildings as he spoke, each of which was clearly labelled, as was a shower block and a general office, while another bore a large and rather worrying red cross. Paul spoke up.

‘Where’s the bar?’

Chad answered him with open disapproval.

‘No bar. No alcohol.’

Paul sat back heavily on the floor of the minibus, looking more horrified than ever. I found myself sympathising with him, and very glad indeed that I had Stacey’s company. Not that the others were entirely unappealing, at least to look at, but all the men seemed to have the same air of forced confidence I’d disliked in Mr Blue. Another minibus was approaching down the entrance road and I turned to greet the newcomers, three men and a woman with striking red hair. Chad seemed to have appointed himself group spokesman and did most of the introductions, which gave me a chance to wander off and look at the assault course.

It was every bit as unappetising as I’d expected, with massive walls and complicated obstacles built of old railway sleepers, wires stretched between trees at dizzying heights, great nets made of rope and several deep pits filled with water and glutinous reddish-brown mud. Just to look at it made me feel cold, and scared, for all that I knew I could do it easily enough and possibly even without getting completely filthy. That at least I had school to thank for, while I’d also have Stacey with me, who’d been brought up on far worse.

Nobody was paying any attention to me, so I moved deeper into the woods and around to the rear of the buildings. Those furthest from the centre of the camp were clearly abandoned, including concrete pillboxes long overgrown and surrounded by trees, shelters half hidden beneath the ground and the huts themselves. I decided to investigate the one nearest the gate, numbered as twenty-six, but in faded yellow paint rather than a smart new stencil. After pushing the door open with some difficulty I found myself in a long, arched room with a row of double bunks to either side. The windows were green with algae and had several broken panes, which had allowed a scattered drift of pine needles to build up on the bare, concrete floor, but it was still easy to imagine it in use. With six of the double bunks to either side there would have been twenty-four men, young, fit men.

I let my mind wander, imagining myself as a local girl brought back to camp, drunk and happy and excited by so much male company. They’d have been nice boys, presumably, but maybe not too nice. Before long I’d have been teased out of my clothes, or perhaps found myself obliged to go nude as the loser in a game of strip poker. With that it wouldn’t have been long before their arousal got the better of their manners and inhibitions. I’d have found myself promising kisses, at which the bolder spirits would have taken the opportunity to stroke my bottom or touch my breasts.

One of them would have got out his cock, demanding a toss, and I’d have given in, slightly frightened, not at all sure of myself, but very, very aroused. I’d do it on my knees, pulling him over my breasts, but before long I’d have been eased down to take him in my mouth. When they saw what a slut I was the last of their reserve would vanish. I’d be made to service them all, sucking cock after cock as I knelt on the hard, bare floor, or perhaps they’d spread me out on the bunk in the corner as they took turns with me, mounting me one after another until I was dizzy with sex and slippery with their spunk.

It was a nice fantasy, and I moved to the window, wondering if I dared slip down my jeans and knickers to enjoy a hurried climax. Nobody was about, but then again there was no shelter at all. Anybody who walked in would be sure to catch me, which was going to make for a highly uncomfortable fortnight with a reputation as the girl who couldn’t resist frigging herself off ten minutes after turning up. It was better to wait, but the abandoned huts certainly offered some hope of private moments with Stacey, especially if we could find any deep in among the trees.

I turned back towards the centre of the camp, but came to a stop as I saw the group. Another man had joined them, a man in loose-fitting white tracksuit bottoms and a pale-blue top that showed off his muscles. He also had a tracksuit top and a bright-red peaked cap, but there was no mistaking him. It was Mr Blue, and if that wasn’t bad enough he was carrying a clipboard and had a whistle around his neck, which seemed to suggest that he was an instructor. The blood had rushed straight to my face, but there was nothing I could do except continue walking as he led the others towards the Assembly building. I was the last there, and crowded in behind the others, to a big, square room with a wooden floor.

There were no chairs, and Chad and his friends had formed a line, so the others fell in behind, myself included. Two men stood against the end wall, both in the blue tops that seemed to denote staff, both solid and well muscled, one short and white, one tall and black. Mr Blue was busy with his clipboard and didn’t notice me as I took my place in the back row, but I knew it was only a matter of time, and not long at that, as he’d begun to call out our names.

‘Ackland, Wendy?’

The red-haired girl raised her hand and Mr Blue made a mark on his clipboard.

‘Atkinson, Stacey?’

‘Sir … I mean, yes, I’m here.’

‘Sir will do nicely, or Mr Parker. That goes for the rest of you too. Respect is a vital part of leadership, and you will show me respect. Maybe you’ll earn mine, maybe not. OK, Graham Boothe?’

He carried on through the alphabet while I did my best to hide behind Paul, who was considerably wider than me and taller too. I knew it was hopeless, but that didn’t stop me wanting to postpone my fate. Then he reached the Fs.

‘Fisher, Juliette?’

I let out a gasp, completely unintentional and the tiniest fraction of a second before I realised that there was no reason at all to think it would be my Juliette Fisher, but it was already too late. Mr Blue, or rather Mr Parker, had moved a step aside to see who he thought had answered.

‘Fisher, Juliette?’

He was looking right at me and could hardly fail to realise who I was. I managed a sheepish smile in response to his brief glare of annoyance, but he quickly mastered himself.

‘Are you Juliette Fisher?’

‘No. Sorry.’

He shook his head.

‘There’s always one. Haynes, Sam?’

I was blushing hot as he moved on. Evidently Juliette Fisher wasn’t there, and nor were two others. Parker had obviously introduced everybody to the camp while outside, as he launched straight into a sort of pep talk.

‘Three missing. They go down as late. That’s how we do things here. You’re late, you lose. We take no prisoners and we make no exceptions. Everybody is equal, and that means equal. If you girls can’t keep up, tough. If you’re too weak, or too fat, or too useless to make the grade, tough. We want winners, not whingers. What do we want?’

Nearly everybody echoed his remark, even Stacey, but not me, while Paul seemed to have found something more interesting outside the window, possibly a cloud. Beforehand he’d never been more than a vague shape around the building, but I couldn’t help feeling sympathy, as of the people I knew there he alone seemed to resent the place. Some were even standing with legs braced apart and their hands clasped behind their back, as if they really were on parade, including Chad, Daniel, and Stacey, although she at least had the decency to look embarrassed and relax a little when I caught her eye. Parker turned to a new page on his clipboard and carried on.

‘Okey dokey, let’s get things together. First off, I want all mobile phones, laptops and any other gadgetry you have with you handed in, and that means now. I know you’re busy people, but I want you focused and I want you relying on yourselves, not on technology. My colleagues here are Mr Straw and Sergeant Reynolds, who will collect everything in, and I do mean everything.’

The two assistants moved forward as he carried on.

‘Second, this is a team exercise, so we form teams. Teams, not individuals, that’s what matters, and that’s why each of you is going to be given a letter. That’s your letter and your name for the duration. It’s what I’ll call you by and it’s how you’ll appear on the rosters and on the results boards, so learn it. Use your ordinary name and you get marked down. Team leaders will be A, B, C and D, each one leading a team of the same name. We put the girls together, but otherwise we go in reverse order of salary. That’s reverse order, which ought to put the bigheads in their place. I have your CVs and I have your individual company reports, so let’s see then …’

There was a stir in the ranks, some looking unhappy, others pleased, a few of the real army types holding their position without showing emotion. I for one was grateful, sure that my good position would save me from the job of team leader for the girls. Parker seemed to be having a little difficulty working things out, but finally began once more.

‘OK then, tail end Charlie, bottom of the heap is … O, Lucy Salisbury.’

Every single person in the room turned to look at me. I found myself responding with an embarrassed smile, and wondering if I really did receive the highest salary of all, or if Parker knew the implications of calling a girl O and had picked me out on purpose. It seemed likely, especially as several of the men were considerably older than me, and I found my sense of resentment flaring up, as well as fear. I told myself not to be silly, and that even if he had deliberately named me after a heroine notorious for accepting sexual indignities it didn’t mean he could treat me that way, but that didn’t stop me feeling on edge.

Stacey was G and Wendy Ackland was E, which left the absent Juliette Fisher as A and the women’s team leader. I’d already known we’d be in the same hut, and once Parker had finished his talk we gathered outside, talking formally until safely out of hearing, when Stacey spoke out.

‘I’m from an army family, but I’m not putting up with this pseudo-military bullshit. I’m Stacey, and as far as I’m concerned you’re Lucy and Wendy, at least when nobody else is listening.’

Wendy and I were quick to agree, although I was more concerned with our team leader, and hoping she’d turn out to be small and meek. Even having to take orders from somebody called Juliette Fisher was going to be difficult for me, at least at first, because just to hear the name had brought back all my old feelings with a vengeance. If it really was her, I was in trouble, no matter how much she’d changed or how she felt, because deep down I was still in love with her.

We were in Hut Eight, the furthest from Assembly and quite a way from the three male huts. It was much like the abandoned one I’d investigated, but carpeted, with four beds to either side, each with its own chair, along with two huge chests of drawers and a single, ancient convection heater. That was it, and Wendy immediately voiced my own misgivings.

‘Where’s the bathroom? Don’t tell me we have to go outside to use the loo?’

She’d already thrown her things down on the nearest bed and I chose the one opposite as Stacey answered her.

‘There’s a ladies’ shower block. The huts don’t have any plumbing.’

‘Oh God. Why did I let myself get talked into this?’

I was asking myself the same thing, and quietly cursing Mr Scott as I unpacked and made my area as homely as I could. Stacey had taken the bed next to mine, while Wendy seemed very easy going, making me wonder if it would be possible to get away with at least playful intimacy. There was a vulnerability to Wendy, with her fragile build and pale, freckled skin, which I was sure would appeal to Stacey, while with the door locked and the curtains across the windows we’d be in a little world of our own, opening up all sorts of intriguing possibilities. Stacey had other concerns.

‘I don’t know about you two, but I am not spending two weeks without a drink, especially cooped up here. They want it military, so they can have it military. Who’s for Operation Merlot?’

As she spoke she’d spread out a map on the floor. I crowded close, as did Wendy, tummy down with her shoes off and her legs kicked up. We’d soon located our own position, and the three nearest pubs, which included The Plough. Stacey began to explain her strategy, first telling Wendy about the incident with Parker the night before, then putting her finger on the map where it showed a village in a valley beyond the camp.

‘It’s no good just telling him to get stuffed and walking out, as it will go on our reports, so we have to be sneaky. We know Mr Parker likes a drink too, so the safest thing to do is for two of us to go and fetch what we need while the third stays here to make excuses for the others. This is Venncott, which is about six miles by road but less than two as the crow flies, so we’re not likely to be recognised. As long as we stick to the woods there’s no reason anybody should see us at all. Hiding contraband isn’t going to be a problem, even if there are hut searches. We just use the woods. Lunch is in an hour and a half, so I suggest we go.’

Wendy looked doubtful.

‘What, now? We’re supposed to be mingling and getting to know each other.’

I shook my head.

‘We’re supposed to be a team. Let’s act like one. We’ll go running together, around the fence, find a place to nip through and one of us can keep an eye out while the others go down to the pub.’

Stacey knew exactly what I was thinking and Wendy could see the plan made sense. We all had running kit and were soon changed and ready to go, looking keen as we jogged down the track and into the woods. Several people saw us go, but none followed and we’d soon skirted the open area of the airfield to where the ground fell away in a steep-sided valley. I’d hoped the fence wouldn’t be strong any more, and sure enough, we found a way underneath. Wendy stayed put and Stacey and I began to make our way down towards the river. I waited until we were deep in among the trees before stopping where a small beech had come down to make a convenient seat. Stacey didn’t need any further encouragement and was in my arms immediately, first kissing me and then allowing her hands to stray to my breasts. I hadn’t bothered with a bra and my top was soon up and her mouth fastened to one nipple as I hugged her to me. As usual I’d given in to her desire and she seemed to want me nude, so I stood up, allowing her to peel my top off over my head and pull down my shorts and panties. As I stepped free I was left in nothing but trainers and socks, which felt deliciously naughty and free in the warm sun, and even nicer because she was still dressed. She gave my bottom a few gentle swats, just to keep me on my toes, before sitting down on the tree trunk to push her own shorts and knickers to her ankles. I got down on my knees in the leaf mould, to bury my face between her thighs and lick her to ecstasy while I played with myself, a brief but delicious moment made all the better for the feeling of doing something illicit.

Our bad behaviour had left Stacey in a mischievous mood and she made me climb down the next hundred yards of the slope in the nude, leaving me flustered and aroused once more. I was only allowed to dress when we were dangerously close to the edge of the trees and in sight of the pub, a pretty, old-fashioned building set beside the tiny river. The sign was just legible, showing that it was called the Venncott Arms.

The sun was now high and hot, so as soon as we arrived we ordered a glass of lager each and took them out to the beer garden. A girl was sitting at one of the tables, alone, her back to us, her dark hair cut short, a girl much like Stacey in build, while her look and something in the way she held herself were disturbingly familiar. I felt my heart jump, told myself not to be ridiculous and then found my suspicions confirmed as she turned. It was Juliette Fisher, my Juliette Fisher.

‘Lucy? Lucy Salisbury?’

I tried to speak, but could only manage a gulping noise. Her eyes flicked to Stacey, then back to me as she went on.

‘It’s me, Lucy, Juliette. What are you doing here? Was that you coming down the slope just now? Who’s your friend? Hi.’

She was smiling at Stacey, her eyes full of mischief, and I wondered if we’d been more exposed than I realised as we came through the trees. I was blushing hot on the instant, and hotter still as Stacey tried to come to my rescue.

‘You’re Juliette Fisher, aren’t you? Lucy’s told me all about you. I’m Stacey. We’re on the same course, up at the old airfield on the hill, Camp Aspiration.’

‘You are? That is the best news I’ve had in weeks, years even! What’s it like? I’ve been dreading it, but my boss insisted I go, the common little toad.’

‘It’s not that bad, a bit military for some, perhaps, but we’re planning to get around that. You’re our team leader, by the way, so I hope you don’t mind us smuggling in some drink? There’s no alcohol allowed.’

‘No alcohol allowed? No, I don’t mind. I insist. But never mind that. You two have to be together? Trust you, Lucy! You should have known her, Stacey, back when …’

They carried on, chatting as if they’d known each other for years as I struggled with my feelings. Just to be in Juliette’s presence was making me weak, stripping away all the confidence I’d built up over the years. I could barely suppress the sense of adoration building inside me and found myself desperately eager to please, while the easy way she got on with Stacey only made things worse. They’d had me blushing from the start, and we’d barely sat down with our drinks before Juliette asked a question that turned my mild pink flush to blazing scarlet.

‘Am I going nuts, or when you two came down through the woods, was Lucy in the nude?’

Stacey just laughed.

‘Yes, she was. I thought it would be fun to make her go bare for a bit, but we didn’t know people would be able to see!’

Juliette laughed in turn, cold and clear and cruel, just the way I remembered.

‘I don’t suppose anybody else did, and I wasn’t even sure what I’d seen, until you came out at the bottom of the woods. I might have known it would be you, Lucy!’

I was smiling, pathetically grateful for her attention, exactly as I’d always been, but both she and Stacey were oblivious, Juliette carrying on blithely.

‘Yup, starkers in the woods, that’s Lucy’s style. She’s never been able to keep her clothes on for five minutes. So is this camp up on the hill?’

‘Yes. This is the nearest pub. In fact, we ought to get a move on. Our friend Wendy’s waiting for us and we need to be back for lunch.’

‘Why don’t I give you a lift? I passed a Co-Op on the main road. You can call your friend.’

‘No we can’t. We had to hand in our phones.’

‘What? How am I going to survive with no phone? Why doesn’t Lucy come with me then, and we’ll get the drink?’

I made to speak, knowing exactly what she was after, but Stacey didn’t hesitate.

‘Sure, why not? I imagine you two have a lot of catching up to do.’

She swallowed what remained of her drink, kissed me and made for the little bridge that crossed the river, breaking into a jog on the far side. I watched as she started up the hill, already full of guilt and arousal, chagrin and excitement, all muddled together for the thought of what Juliette undoubtedly wanted. She was as cool as ever.

‘She’s nice. How long have you been together?’

‘We’re not together … not really. We just … I have a boyfriend, back in London.’

‘A boyfriend, you, Lessie Lucy!?’

‘Why shouldn’t I have a boyfriend?’

‘Well you never showed the slightest interest before.’

‘No, I always liked boys. And anyway, things have changed.’

Even to myself I sounded sulky, and she just grinned.

‘Not that much. You’re still stripping off in the woods. Do you remember where we used to swim at Marnhoe? You’d always be the first to go naked, and the last to get dressed.’

‘You used to strip me! And … and make me do rude things to get my clothes back.’

She just laughed, making my blushes hotter than ever, but I couldn’t help turning my mind back to the little quarry where we used to swim together. I remembered trying not to giggle as she and her friends held me down while I was divested of my skirt and blouse, my knickers and bra, then thrown in, stark naked. And afterwards, begging to be allowed my clothes back and being made to kiss Juliette’s bottom, only to be refused my knickers and to end up walking back bare under my skirt, terrified that a puff of wind would expose my shame to the world. Juliette drew a long sigh.

‘Those were the days. I thought it would always be like that, and look at me now, one more rat on the treadmill. Oh well, at least I’ve got you, for a while. Let’s go.’

Her glass was empty, but mine was nearly full and I swallowed what I could before following her to a red BMW. She didn’t bother to put her seatbelt on, as heedless of both safety and authority as ever, and as I strapped up she gave me one of her brief, contemptuous glances. I could remember her driving, and was feeling nervous before we’d even got through the village, but she put her foot down hard the moment we were on the open road, only to slow down a little.

‘Let’s take it easy. It’s not the end of the world if we don’t get there for lunch.’

‘The instructions said to arrive before ten o’clock. You’ve already been penalised for being late.’

‘What are they going to do, give me a spanking?’

Her voice was full of derision, but just the mention of that awful word had my heart hammering in my chest and the blood rushing back to my face. She didn’t see, her eyes fixed to the road as we took a long corner.

‘No, they’re not, are they? They’re going to put a black mark against my name or make some comment about a negative attitude on my report. I don’t care. Do you?’

‘Not all that much, no, but I’d rather not cause any unnecessary fuss.’

‘That’s my Lucy, always the careful one, but always the naughty one too. Did you ever get caught for anything? No, I don’t think you did, but you got punished, didn’t you? Do you remember how I used to spank you?’

I nodded, unable to deny the truth but not wanting to admit just how important those memories had been to me or how much influence she’d had.

‘Does Stacey do it? I bet she does, over her knee with your panties pulled down, just the way you like it, or is she really stern with you?’

This time I couldn’t hold back.

‘She spanks me. She … she doesn’t really understand, but she enjoys doing it, now.’

‘You trained her to spank you? Wonderful! Only you, Lucy, only you. How about the cane? I used to love to cane you. Do you remember that time I did it in front of Emily and Claire? How you squealed, and then I made you wait a week before giving you the last five! Does Stacey cane you?’

‘She has once, but she’s not normally that harsh with me. She’s sweet.’

‘It doesn’t sound as if she knows how to handle you at all. What does she like then?’

There was no mistaking the arousal in her voice, and she had me in a state of toe-curling embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop myself as I went on.

‘She’s very physical. She likes to play fight and hold me down. She’s strong too, stronger than you.’

I hadn’t been able to resist the dig, but Juliette merely gave a doubtful snort and I found myself backing down immediately.

‘Or maybe not, and she’s not really very experienced. It was her first time, with me.’

Juliette gave a low purr, another reaction I was all too familiar with. I didn’t respond, wondering what would happen if she made a move on Stacey. Experience told me that poor Stacey was likely to end up on her knees, or over Juliette’s, but there was also a possibility that I’d be the one on the receiving end, from both of them, a thought that made me shiver. I couldn’t imagine Juliette taking anything other than an aggressive, dominant role, although the thought of her wriggling and kicking over Stacey’s lap as she was spanked gave me a sudden stab of vindictive pleasure.

We’d been following the river, with dense woods on the opposite side of the road. A Forestry Commission sign came into view and Juliette immediately slammed the brakes on, slowing the car just enough to let her take the corner safely. The trees closed in above us over a gravel track, forming a gloomy tunnel into the wood. I knew full well what was going on, and that I wouldn’t be able to resist her for a moment, but that didn’t stop me asking, or keep the note of panic out of my voice.

‘Where are we going, Juliette?’

‘Somewhere I can give you what you need, for old times’ sake.’

‘But I don’t want to be punished! Besides, you can’t mark me. What if Stacey saw? And Wendy, the other girl. We’re sure to have to shower together, and they’ll see!’

I was whining, and it sounded pathetic even in my own ears, but I’d sealed my fate, effectively admitting that she could do as she pleased with me as long as she didn’t mark my skin. Not that she cared anyway, as she’d never had any time for the little mind games I played with myself in order to justify my surrender, except that she sometimes found them amusing.

The track was long and straight, ending in a circle of gravel wide enough to turn a lorry and completely hedged in by tall pines. Juliette swung the car around, parking so that we could look back the way we’d come. A single tug on the lever that controlled my chair and I was suddenly on my back. Now there was no mistaking her intentions at all, her eyes glittering with cruelty and mischief as she looked down at me.

‘I have missed you so badly, Lucy. Roll over then, onto your front, and stick that sweet little bottom up in the air.’

I obeyed, for all that I was pouting as I did it, turning onto my belly before lifting my hips, my head burning with chagrin and resentment even as I made my bottom available to her. She either didn’t realise or didn’t care, reaching out to stroke the taut blue material of the seat of my shorts and shaking her head as if in wonder at the shape and texture of my bottom.

‘You are lovely, so neat, so firm, but you always were so, so spankable.’

She began to smack, just hard enough to make my cheeks shiver, all the while with her gaze feasting on my bottom as if she was going to eat me. I pushed my hips up a little higher, unable to stop myself enjoying her attention, at which her fingers slipped between my legs, to stroke the bulge where my shorts were pulled tight over my cunt. What with running, and playing with Stacey in the woods, and what Juliette had been saying to me, I knew I was already wet, and exactly how I’d look from behind, with my sex lips making a horseshoe-shaped damp patch in the crotch of my shorts. Juliette could hardly fail to notice, or to comment.

‘Soaking, as usual. You make me laugh, Lucy, always pretending you don’t want to play and all the while you’re dripping wet.’

I didn’t even try to explain, because she’d never really understood my feelings and probably never would, unless she got it herself. That was never going to happen, not between me and her, because just to be with her made me want to grovel at her feet, never mind when she started to get dirty with me. Now that I had my bottom lifted and my cunt had been touched I was hers, and there was no resistance in me at all as she took hold of the waistband of my shorts.

‘Let’s pop these down then, shall we? I know you like me to have you bare.’

She began to pull, slowly easing my shorts down over my bottom to expose me to her gaze: the swell of my cheeks and the split between, the flesh of my bottom and the tight pink dimple of my anus, the soft crease where my buttocks met my thighs and the pouted lips of my cunt. I had no knickers on, and I knew she’d comment, but that did nothing to dilute my embarrassment as she saw.

‘Still running around with no panties on, I see, Lucy. No bra either by the look of it. Don’t you ever wear any underwear?’

As she spoke she pushed up my top, adding the exposure of my breasts to my woes. I was bare in front of Juliette Fisher, again, and I was no more capable of fighting the feelings she provoked in me than I had been all those years ago, perhaps weaker still, as when she began to stroke the skin of my back and bottom with her nails I couldn’t hold back a sigh. She continued to explore, and when she spoke again her voice was soft.

‘That’s better, isn’t it? I’ve missed you so much, Lucy, you darling little slut, but I see you’ve been getting your share. You’re bruised.’

‘Stacey spanked me with a hairbrush last night.’

‘What for?’

‘For being stuck up.’

‘I can understand that. You always were a bit of a madam, weren’t you? I bet she’s rough, a big, strong girl like that. Did it hurt?’

‘Yes, a lot, but not as much as the cane, not as much as you used to hurt me. She’s nice, she spanks me off.’

‘You have got her well trained, haven’t you? You’re a dirty slut, Lucy, and you need to be punished.’

There was no use denying it, with my bare bottom pushed up to the touch of her nails. As she began to spank again I was moaning in pleasure, but that wasn’t her intention.

‘This is no use. What you need is a good thrashing.’

‘No, Juliette, please. Stacey will see.’

‘What, and find out that you’re an unfaithful little tart? Oh, very well, just for the sake of peace. I’ll get you rosy and warm, then it’s my turn.’

I knew full well she didn’t mean she wanted a spanking. For her that was unthinkable, an impossible contradiction, and as she continued to smack at my bottom I was wondering what she would do to me. Whatever it was, I was in no state to resist, and she knew it, and I couldn’t help but think back to some of the things she’d threatened me with but never done, leaving me as scared as I was aroused when she finally tired of amusing herself with my bottom. She jerked a thumb at me as she gave me my orders.

‘On your back, Lucy, legs up and open. I’m going to sit on your face.’

It was the least of what I’d expected, and I couldn’t help but feel a touch of disappointment as I rolled over to allow her to straddle my upper body. Her knees were cocked wide, her bottom a full bulge in the seat of her tight blue skirt, which she was forced to pull up before she could get comfortable. Even then it was an awkward position, but I was going to get it in the face, and that was what mattered. My own legs came up, as ordered, and she quickly pulled my shorts down properly, then right off, leaving me bare and more vulnerable than ever, with my cunt spread to the windscreen.

‘Make sure to keep a lookout, Juliette.’

‘I can see right down the track, and anyway, do you think I care if anyone sees your cunt? Do you think it matters? Don’t be so fucking precious, Lucy.’

I knew she was only tormenting me, but it worked, leaving me imagining myself spread out in front of an audience, just as she’d had me in front of Emily and Claire, everything on show while nobody else had so much as a stitch out of place. Not that Juliette was planning to stay covered, her hands working her skirt up over her hips to expose the tops of her hold-ups and a pair of white satin panties that clung to her bottom as if they’d been painted on. With her skirt rucked up around her waist she pushed her thumbs into her panties, speaking as she began to push them slowly down.

‘Take a good look, Lucy, because my bum is going right in your pretty face.’

She’d exposed herself as she spoke, baring the full globe of her bottom and the slit between, her anus a dark wrinkle between her cheeks, her pussy lips pouted and puffy with excitement. I was going to get her bare bottom in my face, a thought that filled me with panic, almost horror, but even as she sat down my tongue had poked out, to lick between the softness of her cheeks and at the velvet-smooth dimple of her anus. She sat down, wriggling herself into my face as I began to lick harder, her voice a sigh.

‘That’s my Lucy, that’s right, lick my bottom hole, darling. Put your tongue in … that’s right, that’s my Lucy …’

I’d pushed my tongue as deep in up her bottom as it would go, lost to all sense of decency and restraint. She gave another wriggle, delighting in my surrender. My hands had gone between my legs and I was masturbating as I licked her anus. I rolled up my legs, deliberately showing off the red flesh where I’d had the tuck of my cheeks smacked as well as my own bottom hole and my cunt, eager to show Juliette how completely she’d made me hers. She took hold of my thighs, spreading me wider still, until it hurt, with her bottom squirming in my face to a slow, lewd rhythm and my tongue as far up her hole as I could get it. That was enough, my humiliation complete, and Juliette was laughing as I started to come.

## Chapter Three

Juliette and I made it back with the drink, and the excitement of sneaking it in even went some way towards keeping down my embarrassment and guilt for the way I’d let myself go in the car. I couldn’t bring myself to look Stacey in the eyes over lunch, for all that I was promising myself I’d tell her the truth and hope that she’d give me some humiliating punishment but wouldn’t really be cross. Our relationship was completely open, in theory, but I couldn’t help feeling I’d betrayed her, not for what I’d done so much as for whom I’d done it with, and because after five years of separation I’d allowed myself to be turned back into Juliette’s obedient little slut within a matter of minutes.

There was no opportunity to confess for the rest of the day, or that night. Parker and his minions kept us busy, first with arranging the camp, then an inspection and a lecture on teamwork and what was expected of us. I’d guessed he would be picking on me from the moment I saw him, and not just because of what had happened the night before. For all his talk of teamwork he was very much the type to play favourites and victims, while I always seem to be the girl who gets picked on, whether it’s for good or for bad. Sure enough, he mentioned ‘Girl O’ almost twice as much as any other person, while his favourites seemed to be Daniel and the brash American, Chad.

After the inspirational lecture came what I’d been dreading all day, a run on the assault course, and not only because of the cold and the mud, but because completing it meant getting into all sorts of undignified positions that risked showing off the tuck of my bottom cheeks and revealing to all the world that I’d been spanked. It seemed inevitable that somebody would notice, especially with the team going one by one, which meant having fourteen no doubt highly sexed young men watch as Stacey, Juliette, Wendy and myself went over the course. I could think of only one way out, and pretended to slip at the start so that I could deliberately sit my bottom down in the first mud puddle, which drew a sarcastic remark from Parker, left the rest of the men laughing and set me blushing hot, but if I was going to be showing off a pair of red cheeks I much preferred them to be the upper ones.

With the assault course complete we were obliged to form a dishevelled, muddy line while we listened to another of Parker’s talks and were given an initial assessment of our ability. Girl O got another roasting, both for being timid and not supporting my teammates, both completely unfair charges. I said nothing, standing meekly to attention as I was given what I was sure would be the first dressing down of many, then making straight for the showers. Unfortunately the arrangement of the camp created an embarrassing situation, quite possibly intentional, but made worse by the brevity of my robe. The laundry was separate from the shower block. My clothes were filthy with mud and so was my skin. If I went back to our hut to fetch my robe, stripped off and carried my dirty clothes to the laundry I’d have to squat to avoid showing my bare bottom as I put my things into the machine. On the other hand, if I stripped off in the showers I’d end up naked and wet, with only the hopelessly inadequate camp towels to cover my modesty as I visited the laundry before retreating to the hut. I didn’t want to get my robe wet either, which would be inevitable if I took it into the baking, steamy shower block. The only conceivable alternative to my robe would have been my mac, except that it was a retro seventies-style one in transparent plastic.

The only chance of preserving any dignity at all was to get into the shower fully dressed, wash myself down, then strip and rinse my clothes as best I could before putting them back on, allowing me to make a dash for the hut in wet running kit. That way I managed to dry off and freshen up in peace, leaving me feeling at least vaguely human. Dinner followed, a brief social hour and then bed, with lights out at nine o’clock prompt. I’d been hoping, but also dreading, that the evening might allow what were obviously interesting possibilities between the four of us to develop, but we were all too tired to think of anything but sleep.

I was woken by the clamour of a bell, mistook it for the office fire alarm, fell out of bed, realised that there wasn’t a fire but that it was six o’clock, and once more found myself cursing Mr Scott, along with Parker and everybody else who’d been involved in landing me in the situation. My entire body ached from the exertions of the day before, while if my two spankings had left me bruised it was no longer possible to distinguish the marks from the ones I’d picked up on the assault course. That only went so far to reduce the embarrassing ritual of visiting the showers, made worse because I’d expected a private bathroom and decided to sleep in panties and a top rather than a proper nightie or PJs.

Breakfast was served in Mess, with the sun still only just up, and followed by a parade, with the four teams now stood separately, each with the leader to the right and a little in front. We were team A, just as Juliette was Girl A, with three all-male teams stood beside us. It was obvious at a glance how Parker had divided us, and who he expected to win, and to lose. Team B included Alastair Renton and three other competent young men, but it was clear that Team C were intended to be the cream, with just three members, including Chad as team leader, Daniel Chambers and Roy Karsen, who looked like Captain America but didn’t seem to speak much. If Team C were the cream, then Team D were the dregs. The leader was Graham Boothe, a big, awkward man who seemed to be all legs and arms, another man who was not only the shortest but the oldest among us all, a boy who looked like Billy Bunter and, inevitably, Paul Yates.

The temptation to step out of line and ask Parker whether he felt that classic bullying tactics were appropriate for a management course was considerable, but I knew he wouldn’t understand, for all that the answer was undoubtedly yes. I didn’t have the guts anyway, but stood as before, as smart and as compliant as could be, answering to ‘Girl O’ despite the sense that I was being somehow molested every time he said it, then bracing my feet apart and holding my hands behind my back just like the others as he began to tell us what the day had in store.

‘It’s a simple test, of fitness, stamina and, of course, teamwork. Each team will be issued a map and a compass. You will then be driven to a base camp and given a set of field co-ordinates, which I will tell you – in case Team D decides they mark the local pub – is a tor near the third highest peak on Dartmoor. You need to get there as fast as you can. Hidden among the rocks is a jar. In the jar are twelve numbered balls. The number on the ball you take is your score for the exercise and Sergeant Reynolds will be up there to make sure there’s no monkey business. The team with the highest aggregate score gets a bonus of twelve points, equally divided between them. The team with the lowest aggregate score gets a penalty of twelve points, just the same. Got that?’

As Chad and others barked out their answers I was suffering from a sinking feeling. The exercise meant a long, hard day, aching muscles, mud and scratches, not at all my idea of entertainment. Not only that, but the outcome was more or less foreordained. Team C would not only win but with just three members they would gain an unfair benefit from the scoring system. Team B would come in behind them, then us, and last of all Team D, which made the whole thing futile. Stacey was keen though, and determined that we should do our best, so I kept my thoughts to myself as we got ready and drove out to a car park beside a reservoir in the middle of a vast forestry plantation. One glance at the map showed that the situation was worse than I’d thought, with miles of rough, boggy ground to cross, most of it steep. The others obviously had no such qualms, even Juliette and Wendy caught up in the moment, so I swallowed my feelings and joined them as they clustered around our map and Stacey worked out the co-ordinates.

‘We’re here, in Fernworthy Forest and our objective is here, Fur Tor. That’s about seven K, as the crow flies. So let’s go.’

She set off at a jog and the rest of us followed, quickly overtaking Team D, who knew where they were going but didn’t look too happy about it, and leaving the others still studying their maps. I couldn’t help but smile as I saw that Juliette was doing her best to outrun Stacey, who responded in turn. Wendy and I were soon well behind and I kept pace with her just to be friendly, running between ranks of tall pines and clearings of freshly cut stumps and broken wood. The sun was well above the trees in a clear blue sky, while the air was gloriously fresh and carried a faint tang of pine resin, all very lovely.

Left to my own devices I’d have spent the morning walking and enjoying my thoughts, perhaps even found a quiet place to strip off for the sheer joy of being in the nude, or to bathe in one of the little streams that ran down to the reservoir, a prospect that made me all the more resentful of Parker and his pointless exercise. I was getting hot too, my thighs already aching as I pushed myself up one slope after another, and by the time I reached the stone wall that marked the edge of the forest I was forced to stop to catch my breath, while my hair was wet with sweat and my top plastered to my breasts.

Wendy was no better and we shared a rueful grin as we sat down together at the top of a big wooden stile. Beyond was bare moor, stretching up to a line of big open hills, with Stacey and Juliette visible a good half-mile ahead, like two little dolls with their black ponytails bobbing behind them. Some of the men were also visible, but they’d taken a different route through the forest and were some way to the north, too far to be sure who was who, although I could recognise Chad’s cries of encouragement to his teammates. To the south the ground sloped down to a broad valley speckled with sheep and cattle, some of which were being herded by a man on a quad bike, presumably a farmer.

‘That’s the way to travel.’

Wendy’s thoughts echoed my own, and I immediately found myself wondering if the scheme was practical. Parker hadn’t said anything about how we got to our objective, and it struck me that borrowing a quad bike would be showing initiative rather than cheating. Getting the farmer to lend it to me was another matter, but that sparked another thought, a very naughty one. One of my favourite fantasies had always been to find myself in a situation in which I had no choice but to hitch a lift and was made to pay by sucking the driver’s cock. Usually I imagined myself ending up penniless in somewhere like Italy or Turkey, and having to pay my way across the width of Europe with some bastard who liked to come three or four times a day and insisted on making me swallow. The situation with the farmer and the quad bike wasn’t as good as that, but it had the great advantage of being real, and attainable. It had the disadvantage that sucking a farmer’s cock in return for a lift wasn’t going to do much good for my precious reputation, but that was only a problem if I got caught, which begged the question: could I trust Wendy? I decided to test her.

‘Yes, but I can guess what he’d expect in return for a lift, let alone borrowing the thing.’

She giggled, which meant she knew what I meant and wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she looked.

‘Pussy as currency.’

Her voice was soft, wistful even, and I found myself slightly shocked, for all that I’d been thinking almost exactly the same thing.

‘You bad girl!’

She’d gone pink, but she’d caught the tone of my voice just as I’d caught hers, and went on.

‘We haven’t any money, so what else are we supposed to pay with?’

I nodded, then swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. Maybe it comes of living a secure life, maybe it’s the way I can’t help but link sex and shame, but I’ve always found the idea of having to prostitute myself appealing. Wendy seemed to be the same, but I wasn’t sure how far she’d go.

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Would you?’

I made a face at her. She’d put the ball straight back in my court, neither of us wanting to be the first to admit to being capable of actually doing anything so inappropriate.

‘We could always ask. Maybe he’d be nice about it, or maybe …’

She smiled as I trailed off, perhaps thinking the same as I was, that maybe he was the sort of dirty bastard who’d put us on our knees together, side by side as we worked on his cock and balls with our mouths and lips and tongues. Without speaking again we climbed down the stile and ran on, angling down towards the valley. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, let alone if I would dare to actually proposition the farmer, with or without Wendy there, but even to be heading towards him felt brave and naughty, a pleasant combination after my earlier feelings.

We soon lost sight of the men, then of Stacey and Juliette, with the flank of the hill sheltering us from the high ground. I was half hoping the farmer would drive away in a different direction, allowing me to escape my decision without losing face in front of Wendy, but he’d stopped beside the little stream at the bottom of the valley and was pouring what was presumably tea into the lid of a thermos. As we drew closer I saw that he was quite young, maybe younger than me, but well built, with a mop of untidy black hair and several days’ worth of stubble, giving him just the sort of rough edge I’ve never been able to resist. Even then I’d have run past with just a nod, only he was far less shy.

‘Morning, girls, out for a run? Time to stop for a dish of tea?’

I came to a halt, leaning my hands on my knees for a moment to get my breath back and let Wendy catch up before I spoke.

‘Thank you, that would be lovely. It’s hot.’

He nodded, his eyes flicking from my face to my chest, where my nipples showed stiff through my top, then to Wendy, who was in a similar condition although she at least had a bra on. I accepted the thermos lid and took a swallow before passing it to Wendy as he went on.

‘I don’t get it myself, all this running about. I get enough of that working.’

It was just the feed I needed, and I couldn’t resist.

‘We’re on a sort of exercise, but I’d much rather hitch a ride on your quad bike.’

He seemed to think about it.

‘Where to?’

‘Fur Tor, it’s …’

‘Oh I know Fur Tor, right up on the tops, that is. I can take one of you, two if the other doesn’t mind clinging on the back.’

I gave the quad bike a dubious look. It was a big square thing, obviously designed for agriculture rather than sport, with plenty of room for a pillion passenger and even a low rail to cling on to, but anybody standing on the ledge at the back while it went over rough ground was almost certainly going to end up getting thrown off.

‘Perhaps one of us could sit on your lap?’

Wendy shot me a meaningful glance, which he didn’t see. I hadn’t expected him to proposition us on the spot, as few men are that rude, but there was no mistaking his tone as he answered.

‘I can’t say I mind a pretty girl on my knee, if it’s alright with you? I’m John, John Runyon.’

‘Lucy, how d’you do? This is my friend Wendy.’

I was far from sure of myself, but excited, and fairly certain that if I showed the slightest interest I was going to end up riding more than just the quad bike. He was keen to go too, and no surprise, with Wendy’s thighs spread across his backside and my bottom perched on his leg, so close in that I could feel the bugle of his cock and balls beneath his trousers. I couldn’t even move, or he’d have been unable to drive properly, and from the moment we set off the vibration of the engine and the motion of the bike on the rough ground had my bottom bouncing on his leg and his cock rubbing against my crotch.

He didn’t say anything, at first, beyond laughing or cursing as he negotiated obstacles, but I could feel him getting hard against my thigh. Obviously he knew, and he must have guessed that I knew, because as we reached a narrow part of the valley he came to a halt, his voice full of embarrassment as he spoke.

‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to get off? I’m sorry, only some things a man can’t help.’

In my fantasies the men were always assertive, even downright rude, ordering me to get down on their cocks or down from the cab, but it was far easier to respond to his shy, almost apologetic manner.

‘I don’t mind at all, really. In fact, it only seems fair, as you’re taking us all the way to Fur Tor, that we ought to, er … pay …’

My face was hot with blushes and I couldn’t bring myself to finish, but Wendy was no better. I was hoping he’d realise and take control of the situation, but unfortunately he wasn’t very quick on the uptake.

‘Oh no, I couldn’t take any money.’

I had to do it, and I was red-faced and babbling as I replied.

‘I mean pay by … by being nice to you, and anyway, if you’re getting … getting a bit of a problem, it only seems sensible for us to help you with it, and fair.’

His eyes had gone round.

‘You’re offering me a hand job?’

I nodded, reaching out to squeeze him through his trousers, only for Wendy to interrupt.

‘Er … shouldn’t we get up to Fur Tor first, Lucy? Otherwise the others will beat us.’

‘Are you in a race?’ John asked as his hand closed on top of mine. ‘I’ll get you there, but you don’t do this to me and leave me. I’ve got to come.’

He was certainly hard enough, and I glanced at my watch, then at Wendy.

‘I’ll get him off. You pose for him or something.’

‘No! I’ll get him off. You can pose!’

‘OK, but …’

I’d been massaging John’s cock through his trousers as we spoke and his voice was little more than a moan as he cut in.

‘Just pull your tops up, that’ll be fine, and you can both do it, but let’s get out of sight first.’

We stopped just a few feet away from a stand of rocks and quickly moved in among them, not completely sheltered but probably safe for a few minutes. I could see Wendy’s point about hurrying and didn’t waste any time, quickly tugging my top up to bare my breasts as John pulled his cock and balls free of his fly. Wendy hesitated only a moment before she too pulled her upper clothes high, exposing two rounded, pale boobs, both splashed with freckles. I already had John in hand, tugging on his stiff shaft, and she took hold of his balls. His hand went around our waists, then lower, pushing into the back of my shorts, and Wendy’s, to squeeze and stroke our bottoms as we masturbated him.

I wanted my shorts down, and I wanted to suck, so I quickly got to my knees, stripping myself behind as Wendy took hold of his erection and opening my mouth to let her guide it in. John gave a deep moan for the feel of his cock in my mouth and Wendy giggled to see me so urgent and so dirty, her eyes full of laughter and mischief as she masturbated him in time to the motions of my sucking. I was wishing we had more time, so that I could suck him properly, and perhaps more, maybe even find an excuse to play with Wendy, but I knew we had to hurry. My hand went to his balls, I slid one finger between his muscular bum cheeks and I found his anus, teasing the tiny hole even as I wondered at my own filthy behaviour.

Wendy gave a little gasp of shock as she saw what I was doing, but began to tug faster on his shaft as he reacted with a groan of ecstasy. I pushed my finger in up his bottom, he grunted and suddenly my mouth was full of salty, slimy spunk, more than I could possibly swallow. Most of it came out from around my lips and over Wendy’s hand and his balls, the rest exploding from my nose as I began to gag, losing my balance at the same instant, to sprawl, thighs spread, on the turf. Wendy reacted first.

‘You dirty bitch, Lucy! It’s all over my hand.’

‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Wash it off in the water.’

She made a dash for the stream, bare boobs jiggling as she ran, while John relaxed back against the rock with a long sigh. I had to join Wendy, who still hadn’t covered herself up, and as I knelt down beside her I saw that she was shaking, for all her disgust when I’d spat spunk over her hand. I needed more and I was sure she did too.

‘Later? Perhaps in the woods?’

She responded with an urgent nod and we hurried back to the quad bike. We’d taken just a few minutes to get John off, but it had left me badly in need and Wendy the same. As we rode on I was wondering how long he’d take before he’d want us again, and whether he’d be able to cope with us both. I also wondered if he’d like to watch us together, because there’s no better excuse for lesbian sex than pretending you’re only doing it to please a man. What little I’d seen of Wendy’s pale, delicate body appealed, but I could only hope that she returned my feelings. If she did, then a whole world of possibilities would be opened up, involving Stacey and Juliette too.

Now that we’d got him despunked, John gave his full attention to driving the quad bike, and he’d obviously had plenty of experience and knew every inch of the moor. He was able to find tracks where I hadn’t been able to see anything but tufts of coarse grass, and take advantage of areas of short, hard turf that I’d have ignored because they didn’t run in quite the right direction. When we came out onto the shoulder of the biggest of the hills we’d been able to see from the forest I found myself looking down over a huge area of open ground, with the competition visible as tiny pale dots against the vastness, too small for me to see who was who.