Six

Tiffany and I got away with it, but only just, and the aftermath was a nightmare. While the two of us were still head to tail Eliza called up to ask what was going on. Tiffany was forced to grab her clothes and make a run for the bathroom, from which she provided the highly undignified excuse that she'd got constipation. All I could do was wipe my face on the pillow and await my fate, which consisted of a brisk spanking with my face pushed into my wet sheets, being made to clean up my mess and remake the bed, then being sent down to Dr Treadle to apologise in front of everybody before going over his knee for yet another spanking.

All sorts of things had been going on while I'd been upstairs. Caroline was in the nude and she'd had her bottom caned, with what showed of her big pink cheeks as she nestled herself on Walter's lap stripy with stroke marks. Portia had been tied across the table and her blouse had been opened for hot wax to be dripped on her breasts by Jasmine, and she had apparently made an extraordinary fuss about submitting to her rival. Even Katie was bottomless, with two rosy cheeks showing behind as she served drinks, the result of a spanking from Duncan.

My ideas of making Sarah or even Eliza submit as well had seemed impossibly inappropriate, and I'd been too exhausted to try anyway. Even being naked from the waist down seemed completely natural, as did having my bottom patted and my breasts touched, although all the while it was as if it wasn't really me it was happening to.

It wasn't until the following morning that I was even roughly back to my normal self. But I could remember how I'd behaved, and how much pleasure I'd taken in what had happened to me. Katie was in bed with me, so I gave her a sound spanking and sat on her face in an effort to reassert myself, but that only went so far. I'd behaved like a brat about my punishment, and a complete slut too, letting everybody see how turned-on my spanking had made me, throwing a tantrum and then allowing Sarah and Tiffany to use me without so much as a whimper of complaint. That wasn't for me. That was for other girls: lovely girls, desirable girls, but still other girls.

I needed some time alone to think, because my feelings were so confused. That was impossible while I was with Katie, and also during the week ahead because I was determined not to let my emotional state get in the way of my studies. There was also the issue of what I had promised Tierney, which was distracting to say the least. All week he seemed to be everywhere at once, around every corner in college, and even in town, so that I'd quickly begun to suspect that he was following me. Twice he suggested going to my room to have his cock sucked, and both times I managed to make an excuse rather than refusing outright.

Eventually I was going to have to tell him he wouldn't be getting it, but that was not a happy prospect. He'd be furious, and I'd have broken his trust, which I'd never done before. That meant that in the future he wouldn't believe me, while there was still the issue of what the Owl might be telling him, all of which put me in an agony of indecision. At one extreme I could play him at his own game, plotting and scheming. Perhaps I could use the Owl to feed him false information, so that he'd turn up at the wrong place and time? Perhaps I could string him along with further promises until after the Christmas party? In both cases I'd only be storing up future difficulties for myself. But at the other extreme I could give in and suck his beastly cock for him, and my pride would not allow that.

The other issue was the darts match. I'd agreed to play and Yazzie knew that, which made it hard to back out. However, it would be in Bicester, at a strange pub, I'd be with four other women, and Tierney wasn't even in the team. I'd quickly decided to go, but to cycle to Bicester and meet them there rather than accept a place in the minibus they were hiring. My decision also allowed me to find more time to think, because I could start early, spend the day walking in the countryside, then join them later.

I chose a place near Quainton, in Buckinghamshire. During the summer Portia had told us about a stretch of old railway that still had its tracks in place. She'd wanted to be chained to it in order to fulfil a fantasy that was more a horrid thrill than anything sexual, but the rest of us had been happy to oblige. We'd stayed there all day and had seen not one single person, while on Eliza's insistence I myself had checked the line to make sure that it was cut at both ends and that there was no possibility whatsoever of the unexpected arrival of a train.

It was the perfect place to walk and to think, since if it had been deserted on a baking hot day in June it would presumably be deserted in November. I got up early and cycled out from Oxford. My head seemed to clear with every turn of the wheels, until by the time I'd reached the railway I felt calm and rational, really for the first time since my spanking across Eliza's knee. As I'd hoped, I was able to analyse my feelings, both about enjoying submission and about men.

For as long as I could remember, sex and discipline had been linked in my mind. As the ministers at home in Scotland had never tired of telling us, sex was a sin, and sin deserved punishment. To me, the essence of sex was to be entered from behind, and the focus of sex was therefore my bottom. Thus what better way to punish a woman for sexual sins than to spank her bottom?

Not that the ministers would have seen it that way, but it worked for me – except that it wasn't my bottom that should be spanked, but another woman's. That was the foundation of my sexuality, the one on which I'd built my relationships, first with Jasmine and Caroline, and then with Katie. Unfortunately, while I genuinely hated the idea of being on the receiving end there was no denying what it did to me and, for all my experience and training, that had not changed.

As I walked along the abandoned railway line, stepping from sleeper to sleeper at an exact pace controlled by their spacing, a nasty suspicion began to creep over me: that maybe there was nothing natural about my preference for being dominant at all. Perhaps it was simply a reflection of my pride. This made sense, and it also fitted in with my attitude to men. My preference has always been for women, but it would be a lie for me to claim to be anything other than bisexual. The difference in my attitude to men, though, is that, for me, sex with a man means having to submit myself to him and no amount of liberal or feminist theory has ever made me feel otherwise.

Having got that far, I discovered that I did not want to reach the obvious conclusion, and so turned my thoughts to Tierney and the Owl instead. I was convinced that she was spying on me, but I couldn't believe she would do it voluntarily. That meant Tierney had some kind of hold over her, which brought up some unpleasant possibilities. If only I could catch them together I would be able to talk to her and bring her over to my side, whatever she had done – short of murder, and it was impossible to imagine the Owl murdering anybody.

It was even difficult to imagine the Owl crossing an empty road when the little red man was showing, but it was very easy to imagine her getting upset over some indiscretion that I would have considered trivial. There were plenty of things it might have been, but whatever it was I needed to know, because that would put a stop to Tierney's tricks. Ideally, I wanted to know before we set a date for the Christmas party, so that would have to be my priority.

Having reached my conclusions I walked back to where I'd chained my bike to a fence and started out for Bicester. The air was distinctly cool, and I realised I'd almost certainly been right about my session with Katie in among the willows being the last opportunity of the year for outdoor sex. My knuckles were soon painfully cold, and by the time I got to the Boar I was chilled through. It was also dark, and foggy, a combination that made the warm smoke-filled atmosphere of the pub seem positively desirable, as was the company of my fellow human beings, even the rough working-class men and their slatternly companions who filled the place.

Nobody else from the Red Ox was there, so I treated myself to a double whisky and went to sit near the dartboard. A group of men and women were playing, very possibly our opponents, so I watched with interest. One of them in particular caught my eye, a massive man with a shock of greasy black hair and a moustache that made him look like a Mexican bandit, although he seemed more likely to be Turkish or Greek. He had the most colossal beer gut I'd ever seen, drank pints as if they were water and threw his darts with unerring accuracy. I could see at a glance that he was not only far better than me or anyone else from our team, but also far better than his friends.

I'd begun to consider our tactics when the door opened to admit a familiar figure, Stan Tierney. He was followed by Jack, Choker, and to my immense relief Edna, but that was all. They saw me immediately and Choker went to get the drinks while the others came to my table.

'All right, Isa?' Tierney greeted me. 'Budge up.'

He gave a friendly leer as he nudged my hip with his own and I hastily moved down the bench, only to find myself blocked by Edna, whose enormous hips and monstrous bottom occupied at least twice the space that I did.

'I didn't think you were in the team?' I asked as Tierney made himself comfortable next to me.

'The team's who wants to be in it,' he said, 'and I've come up to keep you company.'

He sounded genuine, even hurt, but the crafty glitter in his eyes sent a very different message.

'I thought Yazzie would be here,' I went on.

'Saturday, ain't it? She's stripping.'

'Yazzie strips? At the Red Ox!?'

'Yeah, sure. What's the big deal? You used to, before you got all hoity-toity on us.'

I merely shrugged, knowing that if I lived to be a hundred I would never understand the way working-class people think. Tierney, certainly, was oblivious to the impropriety of the situation, which would have given my parents apoplexy, never mind the ministers. Yet at least I wasn't at the Red Ox, and even if I was with two of the worst offenders from the crew and Choker, an unknown but suspect quantity, I was also with Edna, and immensely thankful for her presence.

'Whisky, straight up – yeah, love?' Choker asked as he put down what must have been at least a triple in front of me.

'That's right,' Tierney answered for me. 'She likes it straight up, does Isa.'

They all laughed, even Edna, setting my cheeks on fire with embarrassment. Choker set down the rest of the drinks and they began to talk about the darts match, except for Jack who had gone to speak with the captain of the opposing team. That turned out to be the huge man with the beer gut, who presently came over to find out who was playing against who. He was friendly to everybody, and had obviously met the others before.

We were playing to the same rules as when I'd joined in at the Red Ox, and I found myself up against a middle-aged woman who appeared to be going bald. She was also a good darts player and beat me, although not by a large margin. Their captain, Osman, also managed to dispose of Jack, but Edna and Choker both won, leaving Tierney playing against a tiny man so old that he appeared to be almost fossilised. I was still surprised when Tierney won, and was also rather surprised that no suggestions of sexual forfeits had been made, which I'd been half expecting despite the presence of Edna.

It was good to have won, although after getting so nervous about what Tierney might do I felt more relief than anything now it was over, and also experienced a strong sense of anticlimax. The others were thoroughly pleased with themselves, having lost the same match three years running. Jack in particular was full of himself, despite having lost against Osman, and happily accepted Osman's demand for a rematch at the Red Ox, this time with stakes instead of simply for the honour of the thing.

I paid little attention, drinking the whiskies they insisted on buying for me until I realised that if I didn't stop it would be dangerous for me to cycle home. Tierney himself had just pressed a glass into my hand, and I decided to make it my last.

'Fancy coming back to the Ox?' he suggested, with a wink so lewd he might as well have got his cock out. 'Or maybe my place? Nice and quiet at my place, it is.'

'No, thank you,' I told him. 'My bike is outside.'

'Twenty miles,' he said, 'and it's a nasty, foggy night.'

'It's ten,' I corrected him, 'perhaps twelve back to St George's, and I have lights.'

I produced one from my coat pocket, just in case he got any ideas about pinching them so that I'd have to go in the minibus.

'Suit yourself,' he said. 'But don't forget you owe me that blow job.'

He turned away, leaving me blushing crimson because he'd made no attempt at all to keep his voice down and there were people all around us, including Osman and the little wizened man Tierney had beaten. I took a swallow of my whisky, wishing that Tierney didn't get to me so badly and so easily, also that my fingers would stop shaking. Osman had heard, because he was grinning as he turned to me. But he didn't make an issue of it, simply asking where I'd learnt to play darts and if I'd be there for the rematch.

Twenty minutes later I'd finished my whisky and decided it was time to leave. The rest of the Red Ox team were scattered around the pub, talking to different people, and I quickly made my goodbyes. Tierney had been right about the fog, which had come down with a vengeance, giving the street lights yellow halos and making the car park an illuminated island in a sea of dirty white. My bike was chained to a lamp-post – or rather, it wasn't.

It took me all of one second to go from the initial horror of thinking I'd had my bike stolen to the realisation of who had stolen it, and I was back in the pub inside ten. Tierney was by the bar, making no doubt sexist remarks to a young and buxom barmaid. I went straight over to him.

'Where's my bike, Tierney?' I demanded.

'Fuck me, Isa!' he answered, jumping back in surprise. 'What's up with you?'

'Where is my bicycle?' I repeated, louder.

'How should I know?' he retorted. 'Where you chained it up, I suppose.'

'No, it is not,' I told him, 'as I suspect you know perfectly well. Now come on, this is beyond a joke. I want my bike.'

People were looking at us, and I was on the edge of tears. As Tierney answered me his voice was soft and considerate.

'Hey, hey, don't be like that, love. I haven't nicked your bike. Why would I?'

'The place is full of fucking tea leaves,' Jack put in. 'But don't worry about it. You can come back with us.'

'Oh, and then I suppose you want . . .' I began, my voice heavy with sarcasm, only to stop.

The Red Ox men had been perfectly well behaved all evening, at least by their standards, Edna was with us and there were about twenty men and women within hearing range. I was tired and drunk, it was a foul night out and a long way home.

'OK, I'll come with you,' I said, and quickly wiped a tear away. 'Thank you.'

'That's the way,' Tierney answered, then turned back to his barmaid. 'Here, love, get us a whisky, one of those fancy ones, and better make it a double.'

'On the house,' the girl answered, and lifted a tumbler to the optic of a bottle of Laphroaig.

I accepted it gratefully, feeling silly now for accusing Tierney and so grateful to the rest of them that I couldn't stop the tears. Osman and another man even went out to search for my bike, and it was nearly closing time before they returned, empty-handed. By then I had no choice anyway. I was feeling drunk and emotional, in no condition to ride. As we went outside and the cold air hit me I found myself having to hold on to Edna for support, and she guided me into the minibus where I slumped down in one of the rear seats.

My emotions were a mess, and I closed my eyes, the drink singing in my head as I made myself as comfortable as I could. I felt the minibus start, and then somebody sat down next to me: Tierney. I knew he was going to take advantage of me, but I didn't care any more. After all, I'd promised . . . and at least Tierney wasn't as decrepit as that old pervert Walter Jessop.

When he began to feel me up I barely reacted. I had my coat done up, and he'd put a hand under a lapel to fondle my breasts through my jumper and blouse. I wasn't even sure if he knew I was awake, but the outrage I should have felt at his behaviour just wouldn't come. Soon he'd got my nipples erect, and before I really knew it he'd pulled my clothes up, including my bra, and had opened my coat. My breasts were naked and his fingers were pawing at my flesh to explore my shape and tease my nipples even more as I felt his lips press to my ear.

'How about now, Isa? Nobody can see.'

Tierney was right. Edna was driving, with Choker beside her on the broad front seat and Jack immediately behind. I could suck Tierney off, nobody would be any the wiser and I'd have kept my word.

'Here, look,' he said. 'Look how horny you get me.'

I opened my eyes to find that he had his cock out, a fat pale rod sticking up from his scruffy jeans, visible each time we passed under a light. He was fully erect, and not for the first time I had to admit to myself that for all his other faults he did have a nice cock, big and meaty and perfectly suckable. I'd thought so the first time I'd taken him in my hand, two years ago, and I felt the same way now as I allowed myself to be guided gently but firmly down into his lap.

Something inside me was screaming at me to stop, yelling that I was betraying myself, that I had been tricked and that what Tierney was doing to me was abuse. It was a lie. I'd promised to suck his cock and I was going to. My mouth widened to take it in, then it was full. As I set to work, Tierney gave a low moan, perhaps from pleasure, perhaps from relief that I'd finally given in to him, and to myself. I knew I was drunk, but sometimes drink lets you do things you want to but otherwise wouldn't dare, and what I wanted right then was his cock.

'Hang on,' he grunted as he adjusted himself to pull out his balls.

I went straight down on them, as I had on Walter's, mouthing on the plump leathery sack to fill my mouth with the taste of him while I tossed off his cock. It felt deliciously dirty, and better still as his hand slid under my chest to grope at my breasts, so wonderfully rude, to suck off a much older man in the back of a moving van. My top was up, my bare little boobs in his hand, his cock hard in my mouth as we drove through the night with his friends just feet away. That made me a slut, and I knew it, but that was what I wanted, and more.

My hands went to my jeans, fumbling the button open and pushing them down over my hips. Tierney saw what I was up to and pulled up my coat, showing off the seat of my plain white panties to the window. I didn't care, far from it. If the world saw what a dirty pig I was, all the better, but Stan had more sense and eased me down to the floor beside him, with my legs cocked wide. I took his cock in again, stuck a hand down my knickers and began to rub myself.

'That's my girl, good and dirty,' he drawled.

I just purred. It felt wonderful, in the warm darkness, with a cock in my mouth and my hand down my panties, drunk and randy, my tits out and pussy warm and wet and willing . . .

'Fuck me, Isa's giving Stan a blow!' Jack swore.

'The dirty little cow!' Edna exclaimed. Her outburst was followed by a wordless grunt of astonishment from Choker.

'Uh, uh,' Tierney said firmly as I tried to rise. 'You stay right where you are, missy.'

He'd twisted his hand in my hair, keeping me firmly down on his erection, and I wriggled, but not so very hard. I'd been getting to close to orgasm, and the thought of being watched while I sucked Stan off was good because it was dirty and humiliating too, and the thing that turned me on most of all was the disapproval in Edna's voice. I nodded, and then as Stan eased his grip I pulled my head up.

'You don't have to hold me down. I don't mind doing it in front of them. If you like you can take turns.'

'Jesus shit!' Choker gasped.

'Why, you little tart!' Edna snapped. 'What you need is a good smacking!'

'Yes, please,' I sighed. 'Why don't you spank me while I suck the boys off?'

'Jesus, Joseph and Mary!' she said.

'Pull over for a minute, Edna love,' Jack asked.

'I will do no such thing!' Edna retorted. 'If you want the dirty little tart you can have her, but not when I'm around.'

'We won't be long, and you don't have to watch,' Jack pointed out. 'Come on, love.'

Edna merely speeded up, the force of the acceleration, pushing my face onto Stan's cock and pressing his helmet down my throat.

'Nice – do that again, Isa,' he rasped as I began to gag. But I pulled back, showing off now by easing my lips up and down his shaft with long, smooth motions.

'Jesus, I'd like a piece of that!' Jack sighed. 'For fuck's sake, Edna, will you pull over? Anybody would think you'd never watched us make a bitch give head!'

Edna responded with an angry grunt, but a moment later the minibus had begun to slow down. We were well out of town, and had pulled off into a darkened lay-by, where Jack and Choker came round to the back of the vehicle. They wasted no time but simply took me, Choker sitting down and jerking my hand from my pussy onto his cock, while Jack pulled my body out into the central aisle. I managed a feeble protest as I realised that I was going to be fucked, but he simply pulled my panties down and began to rub his half-stiff cock in the wetness between my legs.

I let him, and took Choker in my mouth to help him get hard, sucking eagerly while I tossed off Stan's cock and Jack's prick stiffened against my sex and between my bum cheeks. A moment later I felt my cunt fill, a glorious sensation after so long. They'd made me into a spit roast, rocking back and forth with one cock in my mouth and another up my pussy-hole. At that moment the interior light went on.

'Filthy little bitch!' Edna spat. 'And you a college girl and all – not that you're any better than the rest of us, sleeping with that Katie West. Little tarts, the pair of you!'

Every word she spoke sent a stab of humiliation through me – perfect sexual humiliation. She was right. Katie and I were a pair of little tarts, playing spanking games and licking each other's cunts every weekend, and with other women several times a term. I was a filthy little bitch too, a complete slut, only too pleased to indulge men, women, one at a time or all together, as long as I was thoroughly used.

'Can it, Edna, I'm going to spunk!' Jack grated. He'd begun to fuck me at a furious pace, jamming his cock in and out of my cunt-hole so fast and so hard that I lost my breath and Choker's cock slipped out of my mouth.

An instant later and Jack was there, first up my hole and then all over my bottom, jerking himself and swearing viciously as hot come splashed out onto my bare skin. Edna hadn't taken kindly to being told to shut up and she gave him a barrage of abuse, which he ignored as he finished himself off over my cheeks and wiped his helmet on my anus. Choker, now erect, caught me by the hair, pulling my head back into his lap and I took him in again.

'I've got to fuck her,' Stan grunted, and then he was clambering over my body as I began to move my head up and down on Choker's cock.

Jack moved back, Stan eased himself in up my hole and I was on a spit roast again, only now I was basted with spunk as well. I put my hand back, determined to come while they used me, to find my panties sticky with Jack's mess and more jism gushing out of my gaping pussy as Stan Tierney pumped himself in and out. His balls were slapping at my fingers as I started to rub my cunt and I snatched them, squashing them against my pussy to masturbate with.

'What are you doing, you mad bitch!?' Tierney yelped. 'Ow! Isabelle!'

'The dirty fucking tart!' Edna grunted.

I didn't even slow down, crushing Stan's scrotum against my slippery cunt and bumping his balls onto my clitoris, my orgasm rising in my head even as Choker jammed his erection deep into my gullet. My stomach lurched as he began to fuck my throat, Tierney cried out again in pain and I was there, riding my orgasm on their cocks, one in at either end as deep as they would go, for one long perfect moment before everything seemed to explode. Spunk squirted from my nose as Choker came down my throat. Tierney snatched my hand away from his balls and began to drive himself into me once more, calling me a bitch over and over again until he too reached his orgasm.

He did it right up me, while Choker was still holding me down on his cock, so that gushes of spunk exploded from my nose, my mouth and my cunt at the same instant, filling my panties and soiling my jumper, and all the while I was still snatching at myself, greedy for more as peak after peak of orgasm ran through me until I collapsed as the men finally let go of my body. I was coughing up spunk, with more oozing from my open cunt hole behind, all in full view of the disgusted Edna as Tierney moved to one side. As I felt a clot of Jack and Stan's mingled mess fall into my lowered panties she delivered her verdict.

'A common whore, that's what she is, for all her airs and graces.'

There was nobody to blame but myself. I'd got drunk and I'd given in, allowing Stan Tierney of all people to touch me up, to make me hold his cock, to suck him. He'd shared me with his dirty friends, spitroasting me on the floor of a minibus, using me back and front as a receptacle for their spunk. No, I'd done all of that, but I hadn't been made to do anything. I'd been willing from start to finish, and in front of a woman who had been utterly disgusted by my behaviour. They hadn't even manipulated me.

The next morning I lay staring at the ceiling of my room, aghast at my own behaviour. My head was throbbing from the whisky and my mouth and pussy were sore from the fuckings, but none of that physical discomfort seemed to matter next to what I'd done, with each awful detail running through my head over and over again.

Letting the men have me hadn't been the end of it, not by a long way. Afterwards I'd thought I was going to be sick and Edna had helped me out of the van and into the bushes. I'd managed to keep my dinner down, but she'd still been telling me off and I'd propositioned her, suggesting that if I was such a naughty girl she ought to spank me. She'd told me she had a good mind to do it, at which I'd suggested it ought to be over her knee and with my panties down in front of the men. That had earned me a slap in the face, which had at least sobered me up enough not to proposition her for actual sex. She'd also had to hold me up while I peed in the bushes, and had had to help me wipe the men's mess off my bottom and my pussy. I'd never be able to look her in the face again.

Once back in the minibus I'd passed out, which had probably been for the best. Instead of taking me home for more, Tierney had adjusted my clothes and dropped me off at St George's. I could vaguely remember the porters laughing over the state I was in, but as Tierney was a scout he'd simply claimed that he'd found me staggering drunkenly around the town and no questions had been asked. That meant no trouble from my college, for which I was duly grateful, as indeed I had been to Tierney, allowing him to feel me up as he stripped me and put me to bed and even giving his cock a last quick suck before he left.

I washed at my sink, but my efforts to tell myself that I was somehow washing the men's dirt from my body came to nothing. They'd taken what I'd offered, no more, and if they'd been rough with me that was simply their nature. To pretend that they had tricked me, let alone forced me, would have been dishonest, both to them and to myself.

For the rest of the morning I stayed in my room with the curtains drawn, feeling sorry for myself and trying to resist the gradually rising urge to masturbate over what I'd done. Finally I realised that the only way to save myself was to get up and go into hall for something to eat. As I picked at a cheese salad I was thinking through the likely consequences of what had happened. On the good side Tierney was sure to be impressed by my behaviour, and if he thought he was going to get more of the same he would, hopefully, leave the Rattaners alone. Unfortunately he was sure to expect another session before the end of term, a thought that set me biting my lip with chagrin. I still needed to make sure there was a connection between him and the Owl, and then break it.

Choker and Jack didn't matter, because they were Tierney's creatures and would follow his lead, so as long as I stayed clear of the Red Ox they wouldn't be a problem. Edna was another matter, and it was even possible that she would report my behaviour to the authorities. Sleeping with Katie was one thing, and acceptable as long as we were discreet, but group sex with three men from Cowley was sure to cause comment, maybe even get me sent down. I was going to have to speak to Edna. I was also going to have to speak to Katie, because it was only fair to warn her, but I would have to pretend Tierney had taken advantage of me or she'd be upset.

Then there was my bike. If I reported it stolen, the police and therefore the college authorities were going to want to know what I'd been doing in Bicester. While there was no rule against playing darts in seedy pubs, questions might be asked and that again might land me in trouble. They would want to speak to Tierney, and maybe to Edna as well, which could only be a bad thing, while the chances of recovering the bike were pretty slim anyway. It wasn't even insured, and I had no spare money to buy another one.

I had meant to walk up to Foxson after lunch, but I simply couldn't face it. My head hurt, my legs ached, and my jaw muscles were sore from too much cocksucking, making it painful to speak. It made more sense to get an early night and go first thing in the morning. That way I could catch not only Katie but also Edna, which would spare me an embarrassing and possibly disastrous trip to the Red Ox to find out where she lived. Mike would probably tell me, while the others, especially Tierney, were sure to expect something in return, something rude. As always, the thought disgusted me, and yet I was thinking of the possibilities as I stripped off and collapsed back into bed.

Sleep caught up with me before I could disgrace myself, but my dreams were full of rough lecherous men who were eager to abuse me, and when I woke up again I immediately knew there was no hope of avoiding it. My nipples were stiff, my pussy was wet, and a thousand dirty thoughts were crowding into my head all at once. It was warm, and dark, making it all too easy to give in as my hand snaked down under my belly to find my sex.

I was face down, and I'd woken clutching my pillow, which I pushed down to raise my hips as I remembered how dirty and how eager I'd been, and how wonderful it had felt. The men had well and truly used me, but I knew it could have been worse, and in my imagination it was. I thought of how Edna might have taken me up on my offer and spanked my bare bottom in front of the men. They'd have thought it was hilarious, and the sight of me naked and wriggling in my pain would have got them going again.

Once she'd finished they'd have fucked me as they had before, one cock in my mouth and one up my pussy, laughing and jeering as I was made into a spit-roast for their amusement. All the while Edna would have been calling me a slut and a whore, and telling me that I needed to be spanked more often. She'd do it again, and would keep me held down across her knee while the men had me from either end, first Tierney with his lovely big cock in my mouth while I was still being spanked, then Jack entering me from behind.

That was a particularly satisfying fantasy, so I got up onto my knees and pushed the bedclothes down, imagining myself held down firmly across Edna's lap while the men used me. Perhaps, when she realised just what a little slut I really was, she would decide to take advantage herself, not by making me lick her but by whoring me out to passing motorists. She'd put up a sign by the road, offering me for sale, with the words 'Cheap Tart' in large red letters to describe me.

I'd be kneeling in the damp grass by the roadside, with one man up me and another in my mouth, again and again as I struggled to satisfy a queue that would grow faster than I could satisfy them. Already I was on the edge of orgasm, teasing my clitoris with a single finger as I imagined myself being sold, a cheap tart, available to anyone for anything at ten pounds a time – no, five pounds, or even one. I wouldn't even get the money. Edna would take most of it and give Tierney, Jack and Choker the rest as a treat for reducing me to a state in which I could be casually whored out.

Maybe Edna would need to hold me in place across her knee, applying occasional spankings to keep me in mind of who I was, what I was, and to amuse the men. No, I'd be too willing, eager for every indignity, swallowing spunk and guiding the men's cocks in up my slippery hole. Soon I'd be too slippery. Some bastard would complain that he couldn't get enough friction up my cunt and demand his money back. Edna would tell him to bugger me instead and up his huge erect cock would go, up my bottom-hole, jammed in so deep that his balls would be pressing against my empty cunt as he used me.

At the thought of being sodomised for a pound it all got too much. I came, screaming into my pillow, clutching at my cunt, and at the last moment I put my other hand back to stick one finger in up my sweaty, slippery bottom-hole.