Four

Katie and I spent the night together in her room, but I got up early to cycle back to St George's. Not many people were about and I used the pass key she'd given me to let myself out of the back gate, only to reach it at the same time as a group of scouts were coming in. Among them was Edna and I gave her a friendly greeting, which she returned. It was a little embarrassing, because I realised now that it was at Foxson I'd seen her but without ever really focusing on her as distinct from anybody else who was regularly about. I'd never really bothered to make a secret of my relationship with Katie, and scouts are notorious gossips, which meant that Edna might well know about us.

I put the thought out of my mind as I cycled back, concentrating on the forthcoming Rattaners meeting instead. The situation with the Owl was going to make it a little difficult, but after my weekend with Katie, especially her spanking and the aftermath, I was feeling both dominant and confident in my ability to keep everything under my control. If Portia was a brat about it I would know what to do, and I wasn't going to take any nonsense even from Eliza.

For the next three days I did my best to concentrate on work, something I've always tried to do no matter how interesting my social life may be. A lot of students find it difficult but it's really only a question of self-discipline. I even managed to finish my essay early, and Duncan rated it as on the border between an Upper Second and a First, which put the final touch to my confident mood.

The previous Rattaners party had been pretty well ideal, with a good venue, a good group of people and a good game to get things moving, so there wasn't going to be a great deal to discuss – although one good idea had occurred to me. Sarah and Portia were particularly skilful at arranging games with the right balance, and the one we'd played had been excellent. I'd even enjoyed the rule about having to switch if you drew a joker, because while I had very definitely not wanted to get one it had made me feel we were being fairer to the submissive girls and it had made the play deliciously tense, while there had always been the chance that Sarah herself would draw one. Only afterwards had she admitted to me and Eliza that the jokers hadn't even been in the pack, making us promise not to tell the other girls.

It had struck me that with a bit of thought I might be able to arrange an even better game, one that would seem entirely fair and yet would ensure that I would be able to dominate Sarah, perhaps even Eliza, although I was not at all sure if I'd dare in her case. In order to be sure of my success I would have to introduce some element of skill to give myself an advantage, and the darts game had provided me with the answer. I knew that Yazzie played, and that Jasmine and Caroline did occasionally, but to the best of my knowledge none of the others did at all. An idea, provisionally called 'Top Dog', had begun to evolve, and in my mind I was putting the finishing touches to it as I entered the Bodleian.

'I have the Latimer Room booked,' I told the librarian, who responded with a nod and didn't even ask to see my card.

I went up, to find that I was almost the last to arrive, despite being a few minutes early.

'You're all very keen,' I said.

'I wouldn't miss this for the world,' Sarah responded, putting down the book she'd been reading.

There was something in the tone of her voice that I didn't quite like, while Portia looked positively smug. Jasmine, Caroline and Yazzie were at the other end of the table, talking together, but they turned to greet me with wan smiles. Eliza was also there, standing at the window as she pointed out Oxford landmarks to Tiffany. Both had turned round as Sarah spoke.

'There you are, Isabelle,' Eliza said. 'Shall we begin?'

Her voice was stern, but that was normal for her. Tiffany's vindictive smirk might also have been normal, but I didn't like it at all.

'Is something wrong?' I asked.

Portia shook her head, as if my question was ridiculous.

'You know very well there is, Isabelle,' Sarah said, 'and I would have hoped you would be honest enough to admit what you've done.'

'What?' I asked, genuinely puzzled.

'Isabelle has been talking to that ghastly man Tierney,' Portia supplied, addressing Katie, who had just come in. 'What do you think we should do about it, Katie?'

Katie just looked blank, but I struggled to answer.

'No, I . . .' I began, and stopped.

'Don't try and lie your way out of it, Isabelle,' Portia said.

'It wasn't like that!' I insisted as my stomach began to tighten in very real fear. 'He . . . he came up to me in the quad and started saying all sorts of filthy things. I had to tell him to shut up.'

'You were at the Red Ox,' Portia pointed out.

'Sorry, Isabelle Kyou,' Yazzie added. 'I did not know, but I told only the truth.'

'That doesn't count!' I blurted out. 'I . . . I . . .'

'. . . Spoke to Tierney, and to the barman, and several others,' Portia finished for me, 'which is against the rule you yourself put forward last time. What was the punishment again, Sarah?'

'There's no need to be smug about it, Portia,' Eliza responded.

'Look, Eliza,' I appealed, 'this isn't fair at all!'

'It seems entirely fair to me, I'm afraid,' she answered. 'You yourself suggested the rule, and the same rules apply to everybody equally.'

'She suggested the punishment too,' Portia said with relish. 'To be given to dirty old Walter Jessop for the night.'

'I do wish we could watch,' Tiffany put in as she bent to lean on the back of Portia's chair, still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

'Ahem,' Eliza coughed. 'Isabelle has broken the rules, but there is no call to torment her unnecessarily.'

'Yes, Portia,' Katie put in. She slipped an arm around my shoulders.

I felt as if I was about to burst into tears, and all I could manage was a helpless shrug. To refuse pointblank would completely destroy my authority with the Rattaners and might even destroy the society, or get me expelled, which would be worse. I was going to have to go through with it.

'There it is, then,' Eliza concluded. 'Jasmine, perhaps if you would be kind enough to call Mr Jessop this evening?'

'OK,' Jasmine answered. 'Sorry, Isabelle, but it's only fair.'

I hung my head, feeling dazed, only for a sense of hope to spring up. They could send me to Walter, but he couldn't make me do anything, while I knew that Katie or Caroline would help me out by giving him some dirty little treat in return for his complicity.

'How are we going to know if she gives in to him?' Portia asked. 'You know what she's like when it comes to trying to worm her way out of things.'

'That's not true,' I lied.

Portia answered with a derisive snort.

'One of us could go with her,' Eliza suggested. 'Or perhaps Mr Jessop could take pictures?'

'No!' I said hastily. 'They'd probably end up all over the Internet!'

'Only we would see them,' Eliza assured me. 'And Mr Jessop, of course, but he has always been trustworthy so far. Afterwards I would delete them.'

I made a face, imagining Portia and Tiffany sniggering over photos of me bum-up over Walter Jessop's lap, doing a striptease, pulling on his wrinkly old cock, sucking it . . .

There had to be a way out.

'I propose that we abandon that rule,' I said. 'It was badly thought out.'

'Yes, it was!' Portia laughed. 'Let's vote. All those in favour of abandoning the rule about talking to Tierney and Co?'

To my surprise Portia had raised her own hand, and Tiffany followed suit, making the vote unanimous.

'So much for that,' Portia said. 'But you still have to be punished.'

'No, I . . .'

'Yes,' Eliza said firmly.

I slumped down in my chair, biting my lip. She was right, and I had nobody to blame but myself, which only made me feel worse.

'I think she ought to be spanked first,' Portia said, 'before we send her to him.'

'That's not part of the punishment,' I answered her, although I could barely get the words past my lips because of my growing feeling of chagrin.

'Not for speaking to Tierney,' Portia went on, 'but for lying, and for trying to wriggle out of your fair punishment. You'd do it to me, wouldn't you?'

'Yes,' I admitted, and threw my hands up in a gesture of despair. 'But still . . .'

'Good,' Portia said firmly. 'She gets spanked first. We can meet somewhere and—'

'Ahem,' Eliza interrupted. 'I see no reason for Isabelle to be spanked before she is sent to Mr Jessop. However, I am very disappointed in you, Isabelle. A dominant woman must earn the respect of others in order to deserve it – and that includes acknowledging her mistakes with a good grace. So I would have expected better of you when it comes to accepting a just punishment.'

'I know,' I admitted. 'I'm sorry.'

'Which is why I am going to spank you,' Eliza stated. 'Now come here.'

I went, too weak to resist the authority in her voice. She was right too, for all that she was going to thoroughly enjoy doing it, just as the others were going to thoroughly enjoy watching – with the possible exception of Katie, who looked genuinely sorry for me as I laid myself meekly across Eliza's lap. I had fondly imagined I would never again be put in spanking position, but despite the three months since what was supposed to have been my final punishment I found it embarrassingly easy to give in to Eliza's authority.

'Lift your hips,' she ordered, and I went up on my toes.

My long printed muslin dress was tugged up my legs and lifted onto my back, exposing my panties and making me wish I'd chosen something more ladylike. They were actually Katie's, but our underwear tended to get mixed up and it hadn't occurred to me that I'd end up showing them off, least of all to the giggling Portia. Not that they were indecent, just plain white cotton panties, except for the picture of a large yellow teddy bear stamped on the seat along with the legend 'A Bear Behind'.

'Oh dear, oh dear!' Sarah chuckled. 'I do wish I had a camera.'

'I'll use my mobile,' Tiffany offered.

'No!' I squeaked, but too late, the flash catching me just as Eliza put her hand to the waistband of my knickers.

'Stop it, or you'll be next,' Eliza warned. 'I freely admit that I have missed doing this, Isabelle.'

With that she took my knickers down, not just off my bum, but all the way down to my knees, leaving me showing behind. Again the phone camera flashed.

'Tiffany!' Eliza snapped.

'Sorry,' Tiffany answered quickly. 'I just couldn't resist it! I can see your cunt, Isabelle.'

'You are next,' Eliza informed her.

Tiffany went quiet, but knowing that she was next in line was very little consolation to me. It was her favourite thing, as she freely admitted, whereas I had openly stated that I would never get it again.

I was going to get it now, though, with my dress high and my ridiculous panties pulled down to leave me bare and vulnerable, with Eliza's hand resting gently on my bottom. It would be hard, too: a firm, no-nonsense punishment spanking. The thought set me trembling with apprehension.

The reason that Eliza hadn't started already was the suspicion that somebody was outside, coming up the staircase, their footsteps barely audible. Katie had already locked the door and was standing with her back to it, but it obviously made sense to wait. Unfortunately that meant me being held in place with my naked rear on show until Eliza was sure that we were safe, and even then I was left worrying what somebody would have been doing lurking outside the room when there was nowhere else for them to go.

'I had better be quick,' Eliza remarked, and laid in.

From the very first smack I was out of control, unable to cope with either the stinging pain or the awful humiliation. I did try not to howl, but my legs were kicking and the tears had started from my eyes before I'd had more than a dozen firm slaps applied to my wriggling bottom. Portia was laughing at me, and Tiffany was giggling uncontrollably for all that she had the same punishment coming to her, which made it far worse.

I just let go, blubbering my heart out and squirming over Eliza's lap, with my red-hot bottom jiggling and bouncing in my teddy-bear panties, my legs kicking or splayed wide to show off my pussy and bumhole to my eager audience. Even Katie was watching, her hand to her mouth in shock and sympathy, but her reaction wasn't important. What mattered was that I was being spanked in front of her.

'That will do, I think,' Eliza said, and then it had stopped as suddenly as it had begun. 'But I think a little corner time would do you good.'

She gave me a last gentle pat as I got up and I went to the corner, shuffling in my panties, which had fallen down to my ankles. I was still crying, with a big bubble in my throat that wouldn't go away and my nose damp with snot. Behind me, Tiffany was soon being given the same treatment, and making as big a fuss about it as I had. I didn't care because I was feeling too sorry for myself even to want to watch, and I only took a quick glance to make sure that she'd had her bottom bared. She had, with her expensive designer jeans in a tangle around her knees and a bright orange thong pulled well down. Eliza had even hooked one leg around Tiffany's calf, which hadn't been necessary with me and meant that Tiffany's bottom cheeks were fully spread with her pussy and bumhole blatantly on show. But even that failed to cheer me up. I'd been spanked, and that was all that mattered.

The same words kept going through my head as Tiffany was dealt with and I stood snivelling in the corner. I'd been spanked, spanked across an older woman's knee, spanked on my bare bottom and spanked in front of my friends, all things I loved to do to other women but hated having done to myself, and yet there was no denying the warm glow in my cheeks and the hot, moist feeling of my pussy. Maybe I hated it, but when it came to getting excited over it I was no better than anybody else. Then I was just another rude little tart. I burst into tears again at the thought, only to be told in no uncertain terms to shut up.

'Somebody's outside!' Jasmine hissed.

'Are you sure?' I demanded, snatching for my panties.

'They just tried the door!'

'Oh God! No, don't worry. Katie, get the book. I'll get rid of them.'

'You said we'd be safe, Isabelle!' Portia snapped.

'Stupid girl!' Sarah added, glaring at me.

Katie produced a copy of Varney the Vampire from her bag as Tiffany and I hastily adjusted our clothing. As Tiffany fastened the button of her jeans she gave me an encouraging grin, which I returned, the two of us now allies against the uncomprehending world despite the way we had treated each other. I made for the door, wondering what I would say.We had got badly carried away, even Eliza, but there was simply no reason why anybody should have come up to the top floor when the Latimer Room was booked, never mind try to get in.

I opened the door. It was the Owl, nearly three-quarters of an hour early.

'Isabelle?' she asked, sounding worried.

'Hi, Amy Jane,' I managed.

'I saw you earlier,' she said doubtfully. 'Did you get the time wrong?'

'Um . . . yes,' I told her. 'Sorry.'

'That's OK. I'm here now. Hi, everybody.'

The answering greetings sounded distinctly nervous to me, but Amy Jane didn't seem to notice. I was sure she'd heard what had been going on and I was frantically searching for a plausible cover story as she took a seat at the table. Unfortunately, a girl's bottom being spanked sounds like a girl's bottom being spanked, and really like nothing else – or at least nothing that was likely to have been happening in a reading room at the Bodleian Library. We had been relying on anybody approaching being heard on the stairs, but with me in the corner and Tiffany over Eliza's knee nobody had been paying proper attention and in any case the Owl's approach had been virtually inaudible.

'Have you been doing a reading?' Amy Jane asked brightly.

'Yes,' Katie told her.

'Don't let me get in the way, then.'

As Katie began to read, Sarah leant close to whisper in my ear.

'This is all your fault, Isabelle!'

It wasn't, but I was going to be punished for it anyway. I'd always teased Portia for the way she sulked about her punishments, but now I knew how she felt. It just wasn't fair, when everybody had agreed that the Latimer Room would be safe if we were careful. Admittedly I'd invented the James Malcolm Rymer Society and made the actual bookings, but the fact was that if they hadn't insisted on spanking me for talking to the Red Ox crew then there wouldn't have been a problem. But now there was, and only Katie and Caroline made any attempt to defend me while it was agreed that Eliza should punish me properly at the next Rattaners party.

In fact, the punishment probably was just, but for a different reason – one that I hadn't dared tell anybody. I was sure the Owl had heard, and pretty sure she knew what had been going on, but she hadn't said anything. That surely meant she was in league with Tierney and had kept quiet in order not to spook us during my chastisement. In consequence, he presumably knew that we'd met, from which he was sure to conclude that we'd be holding another party soon.

I had a pretty good idea what Eliza would do to me, but at least she was a woman and had been in charge of my discipline and training. Submitting to her would be deeply humiliating, and probably quite painful, but it was a lot easier to face than the prospect of going to Walter Jessop. I even thought about backing out, because considered outside the context of the Rattaners it was an unthinkable thing to do, sending a young woman to spend the night with a dirty old man as a punishment. Unfortunately, within the context of the Rattaners it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, if perhaps a little harsh. Yet it was my own suggestion, and over the course of the previous year I'd voted for both Portia and Caroline to suffer similar fates. Both had gone through with it, and I'd thoroughly enjoyed the thought of their degradation.

Jasmine had arranged for me to go to him the following Friday, and she told me, which meant the intervening time seemed to pass minute by leaden minute and yet simultaneously to rush past. To make matters worse a message had come back, accepting my submission with pleasure and asking that I be dressed in a corset and Victorian split-seam drawers under a long coat. Caroline made the drawers specially, great lacy confections that no respectable woman would have been seen dead in, while Jasmine put her ha'p'orth in by insisting I put on one of her corsets, which was low-cut and scarlet. I added a chemise in the same style, stockings and boots, so that I wasn't actually indecent under my coat, although I was plainly dressed for sex, which made just cycling out to Whytleigh a hideously embarrassing experience.

It was bad enough knowing that under my coat I was dressed up as a Victorian prostitute, but as I rode the split of my drawers kept working apart, so that after a quarter-mile or so my pussy would be rubbing bare on the inside of my coat. I had to keep stopping to adjust myself, but at least by the time I got to Whytleigh I could tell myself I was wet because of the rubbing and not because I was aroused by what was about to happen to me.

Walter's house, and shop, was one of a row of old red-brick cottages facing the Cherwell across a strip of cobbles. It was already dusk when I got there, with the only noise a group of ducks paddling in the river and very little even to indicate which century I was in. I'd been trying to make it easier for myself by imagining I really was a Victorian call girl sent out to a client's house, but if anything the fantasy only made my feelings of humiliation stronger.

As I fastened my bicycle to the old-fashioned street light opposite Walter's shop I was thinking back to my first visit there. I'd been far less self-confident then, and had found it really quite easy to let my arousal at the thought of doing filthy things get the better of me. I had been defying the self-righteous minister who had done so much to turn me against religion and onto punishment. I was also defying my parents to some extent. All that was behind me now and my delight in having to play with a dirty old man's cock and balls was an embarrassing memory. I had sucked him off and let him come in my face and down my chest, something which was now once more a very immediate prospect.

It took all my willpower to cross the cobbles and ring the ancient bell. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows, and I saw the curtain twitch aside and Walter's red, seamed face peer out, his loose mouth widening to a lewd grin as he saw that it was me. His face vanished, leaving me waiting, close to panic as I wondered what I could get away with, whether he'd want to spank me, to make me suck and lick on his ugly outsized scrotum, to slip his skinny little willy up my pussy to give me the first real fucking I'd had in nearly a year . . .

'Ah, Isabelle, good evening,' he greeted me as the door swung open.

'Good evening, Walter . . . sir,' I responded, remembering how he liked to be addressed.

As I entered the shop I let my coat slip from my shoulders to show what was underneath, not really from any desire to display myself for him but because if I had to go through with it I preferred to maintain at least a little style. He looked me up and down appreciatively, then shot the bolts on the door and twisted the key in the lock. I was trapped, his plaything until the morning.

'Very pretty,' he remarked. 'Now, straight upstairs with you, I think.'

Walter was rubbing his hands together in eager anticipation, and he motioned for me to walk in front of him so that he could watch the sway of my hips and the wriggle of my bottom in my drawers as I made my way upstairs. Every step had either books or antiques piled to one side or the other, sometimes both, a clutter of objects that meant I had to place every foot carefully. His room was little better, with everything crowded together without the least sense of order, and even the bed seemed to have been hastily cleared, for me.

I stopped in the middle of the room and hung my head, wishing that my lower lip would stop trembling and trying desperately not to fidget. Walter stepped past me, avoiding a table piled with china knickknacks, and picked up something that seemed very much at odds with the rest of our surroundings: a small, very modern digital camera.

'Stay just as you are,' he instructed. 'You do know that Eliza said I was to take photographs?'

'Yes,' I admitted.

My sense of chagrin was boiling inside me as he took careful aim and shot a picture of me standing forlorn in the centre of his room, my head hung and my hands folded in my lap.

'Excellent, excellent,' he said, checking the image in his LCD screen. 'Now, if you would open your chemise?'

I complied, unbuttoning my chemise and opening it across my breasts. Walter took several pictures, all the while with the tip of his tongue poking out to one side. I found myself looking at the crotch of his trousers, where a little bulge had begun to appear, bringing blushes to my face and making my fingers shake as I held my chemise wide to show him my naked chest.

'Excellent, excellent,' he repeated. 'You have such elegant little breasts, Isabelle, artistic even. Now, turn around, and we'll have a few shots of you baring that delectable little bottom, shall we?'

I responded with a weak nod and did as I was told. With my back to Walter I pushed out my bottom, fumbled for the split in my drawers and slowly drew the 'curtains' wide. He was clicking away as fast as the flash would recharge, and took maybe ten or twelve pictures of me baring myself before he spoke again.

'Very sweet – you are an absolute darling. Now, stick it out a little more.'

What he meant was that I should show off my pussy and bumhole, but I deliberately turned my hips a little to one side in an effort to deny him the view.

'A little more,' he instructed, 'and turn your bottom to me.'

There was a firm edge to Walter's voice and I almost rebelled. But I found myself adopting the rude pose he was demanding, with my bottom stuck well out so that my pussy would show between my thighs and my bum cheeks would open to let him see between them. My bottom-hole is naturally brown, something I've always found embarrassing, and the burning sensation in my face reached a new intensity as I heard the whirr of the zoom lens and realised that he was taking a close-up of my exposed genitals and anal region.

'Perfect,' he declared. 'That should keep Eliza and the girls happy.'

Walter put the camera down, and I allowed myself a touch of relief and gratitude. Evidently he felt that a few rude photos would be sufficient evidence of my surrender, but the girls had seen me naked a hundred times and so the pictures would be no more than mildly humiliating. Ones of me sucking cock or having my bottom spanked would have been far worse.

'I have you for the night, I believe?' he said. 'So perhaps a little amusement first, and then you can cook and serve my dinner.'

'Whatever you say . . . sir,' I responded.

Walter chuckled and sat down on the bed, his thighs splayed apart to show off the now prominent bulge in his old grey flannel trousers. Pulling two large pillows from beneath his coverlet, he made himself comfortable, with his back to the wall, very casually pulled down his fly and hooked his cock and balls free of his underpants. He looked obscene, there was no other word for it, fully dressed save for his weedy little cock and the bulbous mass of his huge scrotum, all of it protruding from his open trousers, his wrinkled face split into the most lecherous grin I had seen in quite a while.

'Suck my cock,' he told me, entirely unnecessarily.

I could have sat down on the bed and laid across his lap to take him in my mouth, but I got down on my knees before I could think about what I was doing. As I crawled between his open legs I was telling myself it was the sensible choice because it meant he couldn't grope me while I sucked, but I knew that was a lie. I'd gone on my knees by instinct, as a properly obedient girl should when she is to give oral sex to a man.

'What a good girl,' he remarked, chuckling.

He knew, because I'd made Caroline kneel at his feet to perform the same dirty task – Jasmine, too – while I'd looked on with haughty amusement as they attended to his cock and swallowed his come or took it in their faces if I ordered it. Now it was me on my knees, with his ugly genitals right in my face as I tried to find it in myself to do as I was told. I hesitated a bit too long.

'Come along,' Walter urged. 'This is no time to act the little madam, is it?'

I hadn't been acting the little madam, I'd been thinking of my dirty fantasy about being made to suck Jack's balls and trying to pluck up the courage to act it out. Walter made the decision for me, at least in part. As he'd spoken he had taken me by the hair, pulling me firmly forward until my lips were pressed to his bulging ball-sack. I caught the smell of him – and the taste – as I gave in, opening my mouth around his balls to suck in just as much as I could. To have my mouth full of scrotum felt as obscene and ridiculous as it no doubt looked and he chuckled once more as he began to move my head about.

'That's better,' he said. 'You have no idea how long it's been since I had my balls in a girl's mouth.'

It was not a question I was likely to be asking, at least not soon. My jaw was agape just about as far as it would go and I could hardly breathe, save to snuffle in the thick scent of cock and some cheap aftershave through my nostrils. Talking was out of the question, so I tried to suck, mouthing on the leathery skin and bumping the fat eggs of his testicles over my tongue. It felt every bit as rude and dirty as I'd imagined it would, helping to bring out the feelings of erotic humiliation that I knew I'd need to get me through the night.

When Walter finally decided I was being a good girl and relaxed his grip on my hair I began to lick instead, running the tip of my tongue over the skin of his scrotum and up and down his cock-shaft. He'd already been quite stiff, and now he quickly grew to full erection under my ministrations, while I was getting ever more randy and eager for my own humiliation. I wanted his balls back in my mouth, and gaped wide to push them in. At that he tightened his grip once more, keeping me firmly in place as I mouthed on the turgid bulk of his scrotum and rolled his balls over my tongue.

'Why don't your rub your little cunt while you're doing it?' Walter asked suddenly. 'I like you to have your fun too.'

It was about the most humiliating thing he could possibly have said, suggesting that I'd need to masturbate because he'd forced me to go down on him. Unfortunately it was true, but I shook my head, trying desperately to resist, although having been given permission made that harder by far. I closed my eyes and tried to think of the diplomatic relationship between the third Viscount Palmerston and Napoleon III, only to have both men appear in my mind with their genitals swinging from their open trousers. It was hopeless. My hand went back, to burrow into the slit of my fancy drawers and find my sex.

I was hot and wet and puffy, ready to be penetrated and ready to come. My finger found my clitoris and I was masturbating as I sucked on Walter Jessop's balls. It was a truly filthy thing to do, and for all my rising ecstasy I felt utterly humiliated. But the stronger that feeling grew, the higher my pleasure rose. I was going to come, my thighs already tight, my bumhole starting to wink, my pussy squeezing – only for a sudden burst of red across the insides of my eyelids to startle me. He'd taken my picture, with his balls in my mouth and my face set in utter bliss, and that was the final, appalling humiliation that I needed to trigger my climax.

My whole body went tight as my orgasm hit me, with the flash exploding in my face again and again, catching me with my cheeks bulging and as much of Walter's scrotum in my mouth as I could get, with my tongue stuck out to lap at his balls and shaft like some demented cock-hungry little slut, with my face pushed firmly against the slippery spit-wet mass of his genitals.

The shame of what I'd done and what I'd been photographed doing hit me long before the contractions had stopped running through my body, to leave me sobbing on my mouthful of scrotum with tears running from my eyes as he continued to take pictures. I still sucked, now broken to my task, and continued doing so until he spoke again.

'Now my cock,' Walter demanded. 'Suck me off – and you're to swallow properly, no tricks.'

He'd still been holding me down on his balls, and I pulled back gratefully, gulping in air only to have him stick his erection unceremoniously into my open mouth. I took him in hand, tugging on his little stiff shaft as I mouthed on the bulbous helmet between my lips.

'You've been taught well,' he sighed.

It wasn't exactly the first cock I'd had in my mouth, just the first for a very long time, but I couldn't help but feel resentful at the remark, as if how to suck men off had been an important part of my education. I hid my feelings, working on Walter's cock with every pretence of eagerness and wishing that I didn't feel like lifting my bottom to be penetrated from the rear despite having just come. My mouth was full of the taste of him, particularly his balls, making me want to gag and pushing up my arousal again at the same time. I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything but what I was doing and the overwhelming humiliation of my situation.

'That's perfect,' Walter gasped. 'Keep pulling, with just my knob between your lips. That's right . . . good girl.'

I obeyed, thinking it was the way he wanted to come and bracing myself for my mouthful of slime, only to catch the flash of the camera once more. He'd taken another close-up, just at the instant when I'd expected a mouthful of come, which no doubt meant that my expression had been one of utter disgust. Portia was going to love it.

'Hey, look . . .' I began, pulling my head up, only to have it eased firmly back onto his erection.

'Shut up,' he ordered. 'I'm going to spunk soon . . . yes, like that . . . just like that . . . oh, you are such a darling little tart!'

Walter finished with a grunt, pulling on my hair again and thrusting with his hips at the same time, jamming his cock down my throat even as he erupted. I started to choke, but he wouldn't let me up and a great mass of come mixed with snot exploded from my nose, all over his trousers. Even then he didn't seem to care, his eyes closed in bliss as he fucked my gullet with my eyes popping and my hands slapping futilely at his legs, spunk bubbling from my nose and the tears streaming down my face.

'Good, very good,' he said, and finally let go of my hair.

I came up, gasping for breath and trying desperately not to be sick all over Walter at the same time. He'd reached for the camera, but he took one look at me and put it down again with a soft, dirty chuckle.

'Maybe not, on second thoughts. Would you like a tissue?'

I nodded earnestly, still unable to speak.

'Here we are,' Walter said, reaching out to his bedside table to retrieve a packet of tissues the normal purpose of which was all too obvious, and not so very different from their present use. 'Oh dear, I shall have to change my trousers. I do think you might have at least tried to swallow everything, Isabelle.'

'You stuck it right down my throat!' I protested. 'You're lucky I wasn't sick.'

'Now, now,' he chided. 'No hoity-toity behaviour, I said, or I may have to spank your bottom.'

I sat back on my heels, thinking bitter thoughts. He had the right to do with me as he pleased, by my own rule, and I knew he'd be making a report to Eliza. Refusing anything would only make my coming punishment worse, and she could be horribly inventive. I decided to behave.

'Sorry, sir,' I said, although my voice was thick with resentment.

'You probably will be, before the morning,' Walter assured me. 'Now, let me see how that last one came out. I was a little over-excited at the time.'

My curiosity was too strong not to want to look, and I bent forward. It was quite a good picture, at least in the sense that I was easily recognisable and it was quite obvious that I was masturbating him into my mouth with my lips around his helmet. I'd been right about my expression too, which gave the impression that while I was doing my sorry best I was hating every second of it. Portia was really going to love it, and I came to a quick decision.

'I'll make a deal,' I offered. 'If you promise only to send the first few photos to Eliza, the ones you took of me showing off, I'll be extra good.'

'Hmm, I'm not sure,' Walter responded. 'I know you, and I suspect that once you get going you'll be extra good anyway, but still . . . maybe, if I have no complaints by morning.'

It was a typical bit of manipulation, but it was the best I could hope for. The question was, how much was I prepared to suffer from him in order to reduce my humiliation in front of the girls?