Eight

'I would like to propose Amy Jane Moffat for membership.'

Every single person in the room turned to look at me. Portia finally broke the silence.

'Very funny, Isabelle. Ha, ha.'

'I'm serious,' I insisted. 'She guessed more or less what goes on, and she wants to be considered for membership.'

'You mean you told her about us?' Portia demanded.

'No,' I said firmly. 'Well, not exactly . . . anyway, I've been punished for that already.'

'Oh no, you haven't,' Portia assured me gleefully. 'That's a spanking from each of us and six of the cane – again!'

'Not here,' Eliza said firmly.

We'd decided to meet in her room at the biology labs, where it was safe to talk. On a Saturday afternoon, with no students about, it would probably also have been a safe place to spank. But Eliza had ruled against it, a decision for which I was now immensely grateful.

'At the party, then,' Portia said.

I shrugged. Given what was likely to happen to me at the party a quick session across their knees and six cane strokes would be a useful warm-up.

'Isabelle,' Eliza went on, 'do you really think Amy Jane is suitable Rattaners material?'

'The Owl!' Tiffany laughed. 'Hardly.'

'Not really, no,' I admitted. 'And she doesn't know what we get up to, unlike Tiffy before she was accepted, Portia. She thinks we're a lesbian society whose members like to dress up, that's all. I think she should be vetted, but tactfully,maybe just hinting atmild corporal punishment – an initiation ceremony perhaps. That way she herself canmake the decision not to join. Obviously I can't be involved in vetting her, and nor can Katie.'

'I'll spank her fat arse for her,' Portia offered. 'I bet she'd run a mile!'

'I don't think you're really the person for the job,' Sarah responded. 'I'll do it.'

'She has a thing about her weight,' I pointed out, 'so I suggest Caroline goes too.'

'Thank you very much, Isabelle!' Caroline retorted. 'You wait.'

'I didn't mean to be nasty,' I said quickly, 'and you know I don't think you're overweight, or the Owl . . . Amy Jane either for that matter. It's just that—'

'I understand,' Caroline interrupted, 'and I intend to take it out on you at the party. Isabelle is being punished, isn't she?'

'That depends on whether we have a party,' Eliza responded. 'After what happened at Foxson, I'm not at all sure that it would be advisable.'

'You're not suggesting that we disband the society, are you?' I asked in dismay.

'No,' she replied, 'just that we have little choice but to cancel the Christmas party. The story of your little adventure at Foxson has been doing the rounds all week, Isabelle, although fortunately it's only been seen as a lovers' tiff, while Mrs Jellaby's intervention is considered more amusing than anything.'

I found myself blushing at the suggestion that people thought of me being given a public spanking as amusing. But I answered Eliza quickly.

'Surely Dr Treadle's house will be safe?'

'Isadore is concerned that newspaper reporters may get hold of the story and follow you, or Katie,' Eliza told me. 'That may seem over-cautious, but the lower elements of the national press seem particularly keen to paint Oxford as elitist at present, and I dare say a story involving college girls spanking each other would be just the sort of thing they're after. In any event, Isadore has asked that we suspend parties at his house for the time being.'

'I'm sorry,' I said.

'You will be, I assure you,' Sarah replied. 'But Eliza, surely we only need a venue a safe distance from Oxford?'

'Such as?' Eliza queried. 'We can hardly hire a room as if we were having a birthday party.'

'Why not?' Caroline asked. 'Nobody outside Oxford will know who any of us are.'

'Because,' Eliza pointed out, 'there will be staff, who will be sure to wonder about the peculiar noises.'

'All we need are open-minded staff,' Caroline insisted. 'We could have it at the Red Ox, at least if it was held during the week.'

'I am not having a Rattaners party at the Red Ox,' Sarah stated emphatically. 'That ghastly man Tierney and his friends would expect to join in.'

'My father would be sure to find out,' Yazzie put in.

'Besides,' Eliza added, 'Cowley is part of Oxford. My suggestion is this. If any of us can find a suitable venue, then we will go ahead. Otherwise we'll have our next meeting in the Hilary Term once everybody has forgotten about Isabelle's little indiscretion. Shall we vote?'

She had raised her own hand, and the others followed suit more or less reluctantly. I voted last of all.

I felt empty, and extremely cross with myself. Thanks to my hot temper and stupidity there would be no Christmas party, and if that meant I would be able to avoid another punishment it was no consolation at all. Besides, I deserved another punishment, as the buggering that Duncan had given me didn't make up for one-tenth of my offences.

Somehow I needed to make things right, but obviously the best thing to do was to keep quiet and make sure that I didn't draw attention to myself. I didn't believe for a moment that there were paparazzi scouring the streets of Oxford for the chance of a shot of me with my knickers down – or, rather, with another girl's knickers down – but I could understand Dr Treadle's caution, and Eliza's.

For the next few days I spent most of my time mulling over the situation. But it seemed intractable, and for once I found it impossible to concentrate on my work. I did so badly at Collections that Duncan called me into his room, not for a spanking but to offer me sympathy and advice, which was far worse. The following day I was wandering aimlessly around college when Tierney appeared, popping out from the bottom of a stairwell like a small ugly genie.

'Hello, Isa – been keeping the old fiddlers in trim?' he greeted me, wiggling his fingers at me meaningfully.

It took me a moment to realise that he was referring to the darts match on Saturday and was not asking me if I'd been masturbating regularly. I'd decided to go, under pressure from Yazzie and Caroline, who were stripping that evening, and because I'd been assured that Edna Jellaby was refusing to have anything to do with the darts team after the minibus incident. He spoke again before I could find a suitable answer.

'I hear you've got venue problems?'

'How did you know that!?' I demanded, without even thinking of denying what was the truth.

Tierney merely tapped the side of his nose. Then he went on.

'Osman's the bloke you want. He's well into you, and all. Posh and dirty, he says.'

'Why should he think that?' I asked, although I could guess. 'You told him, didn't you, about what happened in the minibus?'

'No. The Jellabys went into the Boar, didn't they?' he explained. 'When they fetched your bike.'

'Edna?' I asked, as the blood started to rise to my face. 'What did she tell him?'

'Oh, how you were a right little tart and all that,' Tierney said casually. 'You know what she's like.'

I was wondering which was worse: to have Tierney give a no doubt frank account of my behaviour or to have Edna painting me as a slut. It was hard to choose.

'That was very kind of them, anyway,' I said, 'especially in the circumstances.'

'Nah,' Tierney said. 'She'd left her arrows there, that's all.'

'Oh. And was my bike really chained to a different lamp-post?'

'Nah, don't be daft, girl. Jack went out and nicked it while I was making sure you got plenty of whisky inside you.'

'You bastard!'

'It was the only way we could think of to get you out of your knickers,' he replied, as if it was a perfectly reasonable thing to have done.

'You . . . you utter pig!' I snapped. 'You're unspeakable, Tierney, you really are!'

'Come on, love,' he urged. 'You know you love it, and a little cutie like you, you're bound to get the boys trying it on a bit, ain't you? Anyway, we gave you your bike back, didn't we? You want to get a proper chain, you do, one of those hardened-steel jobs. I know this bloke who . . .'

He carried on, but I wasn't listening. I was appalled by his behaviour, although it was exactly what I'd have expected of him. Worse, he'd succeeded, and to add extra humiliation I'd been as willing as they were eager once they'd got me in the minibus. Even more annoying was the fact that while the sudden appearance of my bike at Foxson had led to me spanking Amy Jane and to my current predicament, I couldn't blame Tierney – or at least, not directly. Yet indirectly his actions had led to me being spanked, sodomised and very nearly sent down, while I still had my punishment from the Rattaners to come.

'. . . But anyhow,' he was saying, 'Osman, he's got a restaurant, he has, fancy Turkish place.'

'Bastard, utter bastard!' I hissed, my mind still obsessed with how he'd used me.

'What's wrong with having a Turkish restaurant?' Tierney asked.

'Not Osman! You!' I spat back.

He merely shrugged, then spoke again.

'So what? Do you want me to have a word with him or not?'

I closed my eyes, struggling to bring my temper under control. The offer of a venue was too good to be dismissed out of hand, whoever it came from, although Osman's place didn't sound particularly suitable.

'Where is it?' I asked. 'In the middle of Bicester?'

'No, outside,' Tierney said. 'Place used to be a barn. Really swish it is, nice and out of the way, plenty of parking. Just the place to get down to some good dirty fun and games. The ladies' loo is like something out of a fucking palace.'

'What would it cost? And how about staff?' I asked, not wanting to know how he knew what the ladies' conveniences were like.

'You'd have to talk to Osman about all that. Me, I just want to be there, that's all I ask.'

If there was one thing I was absolutely determined on, it was that Tierney would not be coming to the Rattaners Christmas party. I wanted him to know about it. I wanted him to know he was excluded. I wanted him to hear every single juicy detail of what happened. But I did not want him there.

I decided to approach Osman after the darts match and do my best to charm him into allowing us to have exclusive use of his restaurant at the beginning of Ninth Week, when we'd be able to have the party on a Monday or Tuesday without having to worry about work. As he'd been told what I'd done in the minibus it seemed inevitable that he'd demand sex, although there had to be at least a faint possibility that he was a gentleman. In any event he would have to be there.

There was another matter that needed to be resolved. Somebody was passing Tierney information, but it couldn't possibly be Amy Jane. Only the nine of us knew that we needed a new venue, or ten if Dr Treadle himself was included. Treadle could safely be eliminated from suspicion anyway, and so could Eliza and Katie. Among the others, Sarah's attitude to Tierney was as if he was something nasty that she'd found on the bottom of her shoe, so it was unlikely to be her. But otherwise it was impossible to decide. Jasmine and Caroline knew him well, but they had always been loyal to me. Portia's attitude was much like my own, a mixture of distaste and self-disgusted fascination, and where Portia led, Tiffany followed. Yazzie was an unknown quantity. None of them had anything to gain except to humble and degrade me, which left the finger of suspicion pointed firmly at Portia.

Accusing her would be pointless. I needed proof, and preferably something that I could bring out at the party, which would enable me to have her punished with a vengeance. First, I had to make sure there was a party. On the Saturday I dressed in a manner that I hoped Osman would find alluring: low-cut white jeans with the top of a pair of scarlet thong panties showing at the back, a turquoise-blue skinny top to leave my tummy showing, lipstick-red high heels and no bra. I felt like a slut, and was extremely glad of my long coat and the darkness of the evening as I slipped out of college.

The streets were wet and there was a lot of traffic, making the bike ride up to Cowley extremely unpleasant. By the time I got to the Red Ox even the hot smoky interior seemed welcoming, provoking memories of the night at the Boar and how I'd ended up then. I ordered an orange juice instead of whisky and took a nervous glance around the room, hoping not to find Edna there. She wasn't, and with very few exceptions there were only men present. I remembered it was also striptease night just as Caroline emerged from the tiny back room where the girls got changed. She was in her khaki military gear, her crop top straining across her braless breasts and her shorts so tight over her bottom that the seam had begun to give way. I knew that she and Sarah were supposed to have seen the Owl that afternoon, and I went straight over to her.

'Hello, Caroline. Did you manage to scare Amy Jane away?'

'Er . . . no, not really.'

'What do you mean, ''not really''?'

'Newton bumped Keble on the river this afternoon . . .'

'What's that got to do with it?'

'Let me explain. All the rowing crews had come back from the river, and they'd been drinking, and they'd got hold of one of Amy Jane's bras and hung it from a tower with a bowling ball in each cup. She was really upset, and so Sarah went and got the captain of the rowing club. She brought him down from his room holding him by the ear, and she made him apologise to Amy Jane and get it down.'

'Good for Sarah. But I don't see why—'

'Because now Amy Jane thinks that the sun shines out of Sarah's bumhole, that's why. The way she was going on, anybody would think that being a lesbian catering manager should be every woman's ultimate goal. Sarah tried to explain about the Rattaners without giving too much away, but Amy Jane just soaked it all up. She says she wants to come to a party, and that she's open-minded about sex.'

'She'd better be!'

'So in the end Sarah and I decided to leave it open and see what happens next term. After all, Amy Jane may have found herself a boyfriend by then, or more likely a girlfriend after the way she was behaving this afternoon.'

'That's all very well, but if things go to plan I'm hoping there'll be a Christmas party after all. There's a Turkish restaurateur called Osman . . .'

I explained what I was hoping to do, as Caroline alternately nodded and bit her lip. She was the perfect ally and accepted all my suggestions, even promising to help me out if it came down to having to suck cock. I wasn't too happy about the situation with Amy Jane, but it was extremely reassuring to have Caroline with me, so when Mike told me that the darts team's drinks were on the house I decided to have a whisky after all.

A girl I didn't know had come out onto the stage. She was wearing heels, long black and white striped socks, a pair of little black panties and a top hat, nothing more. The music had become so loud that I couldn't hear myself speak, so Caroline and I turned to watch her performance, which involved a lot of posing with a silver-topped cane and her hat. It was a little refined for the Red Ox, who were soon yelling for her knickers to come off. She declined to oblige, leaving the stage with a saucy wiggle of her bottom that left me chuckling with amusement and the men thumping their tables and demanding Caroline.

She went up and gave them her military routine, a piece of sexy slapstick that had them roaring with laughter and encouragement as it grew gradually ruder. By the end she was crawling around the floor with her shorts around her thighs and her top pulled up, with every detail of her body on display. Every man in the room was giving Caroline their full attention, most of them with expressions of stupefied lechery on their faces. But I didn't realise that I'd been staring as hard as any of them until Tierney tapped me on the shoulder.

'If you've finished ogling your mate's arse, Isa, we need to figure out who's playing who in the darts.'

'Er . . . yes, of course,' I replied. Before following him I stole a last glance to where Caroline had begun to spank her own bottom to the delight of the crowd.

The Boar had sent the same team that we'd played in Bicester: Osman himself, the skinny old man, Eddy, the balding woman, Lil, a plumber called John and his wife Maureen. As they saw me there was an immediate exchange of glances and whispers, leaving me blushing to the roots of my hair for what they were almost certainly talking about. Edna, I was sure, had spared no detail and no opportunity to describe my delinquency.

We had changed only a little, with Yazzie in place of Edna, Tierney, Jack, Choker and myself. Yazzie was going to be stripping after the match, and was already in her costume, an abbreviated silk dress that left her panties showing at the back and gave the overall impression of a Japanese hentai cartoon. As John the plumber approached he glanced from her to me and back, then spoke to Jack, laughing.

'If you reckon you're going to beat us by dressing up your tarts you've got another think coming.'

I bit down my immediate flush of irritation and forced a smile.

'They always dress like that, those two,' Jack answered. 'If we needed to get one up on you we'd have 'em doing it in the nude. But we don't, do we?'

'We'll see about that,' John answered. 'It was a fluke, last time.'

Jack merely laughed. My skin was burning right down to my chest as they began to discuss the game, and I was earnestly wishing that I'd worn something a little more modest. I was chosen to play against Maureen, as the first pair, but what with one thing and another I played appallingly and lost. Not that it made much difference to the result. Yazzie managed to beat Lil, but both Tierney and Choker lost, leaving the match already decided against us before Osman disposed of Jack with ease.

I wasn't particularly bothered, and Osman was full of himself, which I knew would be to my advantage. The Red Ox was now packed, and a third girl was on the stage, doing an energetic striptease to music that was even louder than before. But I managed to attract Osman's attention by using sign language. He nodded, turned back long enough to watch the girl wiggle her bottom out of a pair of tiny green panties, then began to push his way towards me through the crowd. I'd lost Caroline, but she was only really needed if things threatened to get sticky.

'Can I have a word!' I yelled, gesturing to the door.

Osman gave me a thumbs-up sign and began to plough through the crowd, using the mass of his body to clear a path with me following him.Outside, which had seemed cold and dank before, was now blessedly cool.

'What's up?' he asked.

'I don't know if Stan Tierney has said anything to you,' I told him, 'but I was hoping it might be possible to hire your restaurant on a Monday night in a couple of weeks, or maybe on a Tuesday.'

'Could be,' Osman said, with a knowing grin. 'Some sort of swingers' club, isn't it?'

'Yes,' I answered, not wishing to go into details. 'So we'd need privacy, although I'm assuming you'd want to be there yourself.'

His grin grew broader and dirtier.

'How much is it?' I asked.

'Twelve hundred,' he said, and my heart sank. 'But I'll call it a grand, just for you.'

'I'm sorry,' I told him. 'A lot of us are students, so we couldn't possibly afford that much. Couldn't we come to some kind of arrangement?'

I was effectively offering to prostitute myself, and I knew that I was blushing with shame even as I spoke. Osman didn't seem to realise.

'What if we say eight hundred?' he suggested.

I shrugged, wondering if it was worth bringing the offer to the others. Duncan and Dr Treadle could presumably afford to make a contribution, also Eliza and perhaps Sarah, while Portia and Tiffany presumably had well-to-do parents and so might or might not be able to contribute. The real drawback was that I could guarantee that Sarah would seek to take advantage of the situation by suggesting that those who hadn't put anything in should pay in kind. That would mean myself and Katie.

'Possibly,' I admitted. 'But . . . but you like to gamble, so how about a game of darts, and if I can beat you we can use your restaurant for nothing?'

'

And if I win?'

'Perhaps a private show from me and Caroline?' I offered. 'Caroline's the girl in the army outfit. She was stripping earlier.'

'The one with the gigantic tits?'

'Yes.'

'Fuck me,' Osman said thoughtfully. 'She in your club, is she? And you two will do . . . what? A double strip, or get good and dirty together?'

'Whatever you like,' I offered.

'Jesus,' he breathed. 'Stan said you would be up for a bit, but lezzie stuff . . .'

He trailed off, no doubt imagining me and Caroline together and thinking how much better he was at darts than me.

'You've got a deal,' he said. 'What d'you want to play, five-oh-one?'

'I have a better game,' I suggested, quickly running through the details of the game I'd invented for the Rattaners in my head. 'We take turns to call out a number, anything you can get with a single dart, and the other player has three darts and ten seconds to score that number. The catch is, you don't just say five or twenty, you say, for example, ten plus ten, which makes the number twenty. The best out of five is the winner. That's five goes each.'

'Yeah, all right,' he agreed. 'Only to give it a bit of spice, how about every time you don't make it you have to take a piece of clothing off, and every time I don't I have to put a twenty in the kitty, which you get at the end.'

'In the middle of the pub!?' I demanded before I could even think to refuse.

'Why not? Striptease night, innit? Nobody says the girls have to be on the stage.'

I was about to refuse anyway. But I hesitated. To end up naked I'd have to fail every time, and he was right about the stripping. Better still, with Yazzie on stage nobody was going to take any notice of me if I was barefoot, while he obviously hadn't seen the catch. All that mattered was that I'd be better at mental arithmetic than a Turkish restaurateur, just as I knew I was better than Sarah.

'OK,' I agreed and turned back for the pub.

The board was vacant because everybody was watching Yazzie, so we drew only the occasional curious glance as we tossed a coin for who would go first. I won, and stepped up to the line.

'Oh yeah, shoes count as one article,' he said.

'No, two,' I objected.

'No way,' he told me. 'Not when you play strip. Stan'll tell you. Hey . . .'

'No, no, no,' I said hastily as he turned to look for Tierney, who was lost among the crowd of ogling men. 'OK, shoes count as one article.'

I did not want Tierney to know what we were doing, as he would inevitably ask the reason for the game and broadcast it to the entire pub. Having to spend a few minutes barefoot, or even in just my knickers and top, was a risk I was well prepared to take, especially as Yazzie now had every single male pair of eyes in the pub firmly riveted on the way her now-bare bottom stuck out from beneath the hem of her shortened kimono.

'Ten plus nine,' Osman said.

I managed to get the nineteen with my second dart, allowing me to chalk up a victory. Osman took his place and I glanced at my wristwatch.

'The square root of eighty-one.'

He looked blank, then bit his moustache as he struggled to think of the answer, or perhaps even to remember what a square root was. I began to count the seconds down, and had got to four before he spoke.

'Nine, ain't it?'

As he spoke he threw, hitting the twelve twice before successfully sinking a dart into the right bed.

'You sneaky cow,' he told me as he marked up his success.

I was going to have to try harder, but the principle worked.

'Hang on,' Osman said as I took my place. 'OK, got it. Three times thirteen.'

I threw immediately, missed by a whisker, hit the triple four, and the wire. Osman was laughing as I kicked my shoes off. But if he could be awkward, so could I.

'Two hundred and thirty-eight divided by seven,' I told him as we exchanged places,.

'Fuck me . . . um . . . shit . . .'

'Thirty-four, of course,' a small voice said from behind me.

'Thanks, love,' Osman said. I spun round to find the Owl peering up at me from behind her huge round glasses as she sipped at an orange juice.

'What are you doing here!?' I demanded.

'Carrie said it would be OK,' she answered.

'Nice shot, Os,' Tierney remarked as Yazzie's striptease music faded. 'What are you two playing?'

I nearly twisted my neck off trying to look three ways at once. Osman had hit the double seventeen with unerring accuracy, and had begun to speak before I could think of any way to stop him.

'This game she made up, clever it is, and if she wins she gets to use the Golden Chalice for her swingers club. But if I win she and little Carrie with the tits have got to give me a lezzie show. Your go, Isa. What's the matter?'

I'd buried my face in my hands. Amy Jane had heard every word that Osman had said, and was staring at me as if I'd just suggested cannibalism. Because the music had stopped at that instant about a dozen other people had also heard, including Big Dave, Jack and Mo, who had at least seemed to have had the decency not to watch Yazzie. Unfortunately, whatever I said could only make the situation yet more embarrassing, even if that was rather hard to imagine.

'Come on, love, up to the oche,' Osman urged, totally unaware of what he'd done.

A good twenty people were now watching us. I stepped up, feeling numb, barely heard his demand for three seventeens, miscalculated and wasted valuable seconds trying to find a way of scoring fifty-three, then missed anyway.

'Bad luck,' Amy Jane said.

I closed my eyes, fighting back the temptation to strangle her, or spank her again. It now seemed likely that I'd lose, and end up having to entertain Osman without getting the restaurant – either that or pay. I also had to remove an article of clothing, either my top or my jeans, and as I had no bra and was wearing only a miniscule pair of thong panties underneath my outer garments it was not an easy choice.

'What's it to be, Isa?' Osman laughed. 'Tits or arse?'

'You playing strip?' Tierney demanded. 'Nice.'

'Do you have to undress, Isabelle?' Amy Jane asked.

'Yes,' I snapped as I decided it was better to go down to my panties than go topless. 'And could you not tell him the answer this time, please?'

'Sorry,' she answered. 'But . . . but are you really going to . . . strip off, and, you know, with Carrie, in front of him?'

'Probably yes, thanks to you,' I told her as I pushed down my jeans.

She didn't answer, but the look of utter horror in her magnified eyes told me all I needed to know. Osman was waiting, and he watched closely as I tugged my jeans off, trying to think of a good sum despite my embarrassment. Somebody had once told me that the triple eleven was the hardest bed to hit on a dartboard. I made a frantic calculation.

'Um . . . the square root of . . . of one thousand and ninety-nine.'

'You what?' Osman demanded.

'The square root of one thousand and ninety-nine,' I insisted. 'And don't you say a word, Amy Jane.'

'I wasn't going to, but . . .'

'Shut up! Right, that's ten seconds gone.'

'But . . .' Amy Jane demanded. 'But how's he supposed to score thirty-three point one . . . five . . . sorry, that's as close as I can get off the top of my head.'

'He's supposed to score thirty-three,' I said. 'Triple eleven.'

'That would be the square root of one thousand and eighty-nine,' she said.

'Tits out, Isabelle!' Tierney laughed.

'No,' I pointed out. 'That round doesn't count, that's all . . .'

'Yes, it does,' Osman insisted. 'What do you reckon, boys?'

Inevitably they agreed with him, but I insisted on keeping my top on. I was shaking badly as I stepped up once more, and acutely aware that I was showing my panties – although my embarrassment was more because of the Owl than the men.

'Five fives,' Osman said.

It took me maybe a second to remember that twenty-five was the value of the outer bullseye. I forced myself to throw carefully and managed to get the third dart on target, producing a groan of disappointment from the watching men. With two victories I could still win – just.

'This one for the match,' Osman said, stepping forward. 'What's it to be?'

'The cube root of eighty-one,' I demanded.

'I know that one,' he said, 'I had to write it out a hundred times when I was a nipper.'

He'd thrown as he spoke, and not only hit the three but managed to do the same with his remaining darts. With four successes, when I could only hope to manage three in total, he had won. At least I wasn't going to have to strip in front of the Owl.

'Tell you what,' he said. 'Let's go another round, same deal, only . . .'

He leant close as he continued, his moustache tickling my face.

' . . . I get to fuck Carrie's tits while you blow me.'

'No,' I answered immediately.

'All right,' he went on. 'Same deal, but you're up on your own and you have to win two out of three.'

I made to refuse, but hesitated. The odds were against me, but not by very much.

'No triples or doubles?' I suggested. 'Or the bullseye.'

'OK,' he offered. 'If you take your top off.'

'Good on you, Os,' Tierney said.

'Yeah, get her stripped down,' somebody else added.

I bit my lip, unable to meet Amy Jane's gaze as my fingers went to the hem of my skinny top. All I had to do was tug it up and off to be almost completely sure of winning, and I was trying to tell myself that it was ridiculously stuck-up of me to mind going in just my panties when two of my friends had just stripped naked on stage. I'd done the same myself as well, but never under the gaze of an innocent first-year who was no doubt wondering how I could behave like a complete slut and a whore. My nerve failed me and I shook my head.

'Aw, come on, Isa!' Big Dave urged. 'Tell you what, here's ten just to play.'

Tierney immediately offered up five pounds, and Jack twenty, with other men joining in until there was a pile of money on the table easily sufficient to cover my share of the restaurant hire and Katie's as well. I still had to play to get it, but I had to go with Caroline in front of Osman anyway, and Amy Jane knew. Still I hesitated, glancing at her to find that she looked more like an owl than ever, only a stuffed one.

'Oh, to hell with it!' I swore, and peeled off my top.

The men all started to clap as I retrieved the darts from the board. I'd seldom felt more embarrassed but it was impossible not to react to so much attention, especially when more people were now looking at me than at the strippers.

'Eight and one and one and one,' Osman said, as fast as he could.

I'd launched a dart at the nine before he'd even finished, but missed wildly, sinking it into the eleven and cursing before I even realised I'd actually succeeded.

'Well done,' Amy Jane said.

Her voice was breathless with fear and excitement, but there was none of the disapproval that I'd have expected. I managed a smile for her, realising that her fear was for me. Just one more success and I would not only have won but would come away with well over a hundred pounds. I fetched the darts, determined to succeed. Osman was having a whispered conversation with Mike at the bar, but he started back as I put my toes to the line.

'Cube root of three four three,' he said.

Even as he spoke I felt myself start to panic. I opened my mouth to protest, but the calculation was no harder than those I'd given him and we'd said nothing about getting help. That wasted maybe two seconds before I began to make desperate calculations.

'It's seven, Isabelle!' Amy Jane squeaked.

I threw, far too hard, hitting the wire and sending the dart back at me, so that I was forced to jump aside. Tierney swore and I felt cold lager splash my naked back and bottom, making me jump. I threw again, hit the three, and was just trying to take aim when Osman called out the ten seconds.

'Knickers off, Isabelle!' the men chorused – all except Tierney, who was trying to fish my dart out of his pint.

'Knickers off,' Osman said firmly as I opened my mouth to protest that we hadn't said anything about my strip carrying on.

'Knickers off!' Big Dave echoed. 'Knickers off!'

The other men took up the chant, and despite myself I found my thumbs going to the waistband of my skimpy panties. Amy Jane looked terrified, and I didn't blame her, with twenty or more large rough men baying for me to go naked while she was now the only woman in the pub with all her clothes still on.

'OK, OK,' I said quickly, and pushed down my thong, drawing an immediate cheer from the men as my pussy came on show and my bum was fully bared.

I kicked my panties off and then I was standing stark naked in a half-circle of drunken lecherous men. Yet my nipples were hard and I was shamefully sticky between my thighs; already I could feel my resistance slipping. But I knew that given what looked likely to happen to me it was probably just as well. I knew I could cope as well, if I had to, and so could Caroline, but I was equally sure that Amy Jane couldn't. Osman was grinning at me, quite happy to let me take my time now that I was in the nude, while Big Dave was by the window. I signalled to both of them, speaking in an undertone as they approached.

'You can take me in the back afterwards,' I offered, 'even if I win. But promise me you'll take care of my friend. Nobody's to touch her.'

'You got it,' Dave promised and Osman gave a solemn nod.

As I took up the darts again I was trying to tell myself that I should be cursing the Owl for what I was going to have to put up with for her sake. But it wouldn't wash. I'd sacrificed myself, but willingly, and the only resentment I felt was for my own dirty reaction.

'Ready?' Osman demanded, and I nodded. 'What year was the Turkish Grand National Assembly first formed? Like, just the last two figures.'

I laughed at him.

'I'm reading history,' I said. 'Nineteen-twenty, so . . .'

I took careful aim at the top of the board, showing off by aiming for the triple, and sank the dart dead in the bed's centre. Suddenly being stark naked in a rough townie pub no longer mattered. I'd won, and I gave a crow of triumph, my arms held high.

'Twenty, not sixty,' Osman said.

'We said no doubles or triples,' I pointed out, but with a sudden sick feeling welling up inside me.

'We said I wasn't allowed to give you doubles or triples,' he pointed out. 'Not that they didn't score if you hit one.'

'Yes, but . . .'

I stopped and threw another dart, which scored one, but my third hit the twenty.

'There we are,' I told him, cocking my thumb at the board, only to realise that he was tapping his watch.

'Time's up, babe,' he said.

'Yes, but my first shot . . .'

'Might have counted if you hadn't thrown again, but seeing as you did, well . . . You can't have it both ways, can she, lads?'

The answer was a storm of raucous laughter and shouts of congratulation to Osman. Again I made to speak, but it was not easy in the face of the men's sheer animal lust, while I knew that Osman was right. Naked, sticky with beer and my own juice, beaten, I threw up my hands in despair. Another cheer greeted the gesture and Osman reached out to take me by the hand. I made a frantic signal to Big Dave, who nodded, and allowed myself to be led in among the crowd, too numb with defeat to object to the hands reaching out to squeeze my bottom and breasts.

One of the strippers was still on stage, just finishing a routine, and I was forced to wait, standing naked by the stage with the entire pub aware that Osman was about to take me into the back for sex. The moment she'd given a last teasing flash of her pussy beneath the tiny school skirt that was her only garment I was led up onto the stage to the sound of cheers and catcalls.

'Have a nice wank, boys!' Osman called out. 'Me, I've got the real thing.'

The men responded with yells of abuse and filthy demands so loud and so strong that I found myself scampering across the stage faster than Osman could lead me, which in turn set a lot of them laughing. Caroline was in the storeroom, barefoot but in her army shorts and top. As soon as she saw me naked and with Osman she realised what had happened.

'You lost, didn't you?' she asked.

I shrugged, unable to speak for the huge lump in my throat. The other stripper took one look at Osman and made a hasty exit. Caroline gave a sigh.

'So, what do you want to do first?' she asked.

'You two have got to get dirty, that's the deal,' Osman told her.

'Would you like me to spank her?' I offered, hoping he'd at least allow me to take a dominant role.

'I don't mind a bit of kinky stuff,' he answered, 'as long as there's plenty of T and A on show. But I'd really like to watch you suck each other's tits.'

Caroline's response was to take hold of her tiny khaki top and flip it up, spilling out her great heavy breasts. Osman said something in Turkish and sat down heavily on a beer keg, as if the mere sight of Caroline's chest had been enough to drain him of energy. Her tits were slick with sweat from her dancing and her nipples were stiff, tempting me to suckle on her as she bounced them in her hands. She was smiling, fully aware of the effect her breasts had on men, and on me. I wanted to slap them and leave her pink and aching, then do her bottom and have her go down on her knees to me, sore at back and front. But that could wait until later, I decided. I'd promised Osman a show, and I hadn't given up on the idea of getting the restaurant for free.

'Go on, play with them,' Osman urged. 'I want to see you touch her up.'

I sat down opposite Caroline and took her breasts in my hands, feeling the hot heavy flesh and marvell-ing at their sheer size. She pushed them out obligingly and I leant forward, first to lick at one salty nipple and then to take it in my mouth, sucking on her. Osman gave a deep groan and changed position, spreading his massive legs to show off the bulge in his crotch. I continued to suckle on Caroline, watching him from the corner of one eye as he massaged his cock through his trousers. He looked big, and was obviously getting hard, making me wonder if I could make him come just by playing with her and spare myself the indignity of a mouthful of spunk.

'Have you ever seen one girl kiss another's bottom?' I asked.

'Not for real,' he answered. 'You do that stuff?'

I smiled and stood up, turning to present Caroline with my bare bottom. She gave me a slap, but put her face close, kissing my cheeks, lapping at my skin, running her tongue slowly up my anal crease, all the while with Osman staring in mingled lust and astonishment. He was completely in thrall to our ability to choose what we did together, making me feel powerful and confident.

'Would you like to see her kiss my bumhole?' I offered.

'Fucking hell!' he breathed, and began to struggle with his flies.

'You're a dirty bitch, Isabelle,' Caroline remarked.

'You're the one who's about to kiss a bumhole,' I reminded her. 'Now come on.'

Osman had freed his cock, a great brown pillar of flesh, long and thick and curving up, immensely virile. Immediately I wanted him inside me, but I was doing my best to keep control. Caroline was still kissing and licking at my cheeks and crease, but was playing with her tits at the same time, a sure sign that she was ready.

'My bottom-hole, Caroline,' I reminded her.

She continued to lick, faster still, and harder, but not where I'd told her to.

'Lick my bottom, Caroline,' I demanded.

She gave a little shake of her head, but I wasn't having it. Reaching back, I took her firmly by the hair and pulled her face in between my cheeks. For a moment she tried to pull away and I nearly let go, only to have her suddenly bury her tongue up my bottom, pushing in, lapping as if to clean me up, then probing once more.

'Good girl,' I said. 'That's where your tongue belongs, up my bottom, isn't it?'

Having given in, Caroline was making the best of it, with her tongue well in and her mouth wide between my bum cheeks. I closed my eyes in bliss, enjoying both the feel of her tongue on my anus and the knowledge of what she was doing. There can be no deeper submission to another woman than to lick her bottom, and I was in my element until Osman spoke again.

'I can't see properly. Stick it right out, Isabelle, and hold your cheeks open so I can watch her tongue touch your hole.'

I hesitated, but we were showing off for him so I did as I was told, spreading myself to let him see my bumhole as Caroline pulled back a little. She'd kept her tongue out, now teasing my anus with its very tip, a sight that had Osman pulling furiously at his cock. I pushed my bottom out a little more, showing everything and hoping that he'd come in his hand.

'You dirty bitches,' he breathed. 'Now swap round.'

'Um . . . that's not really how it works,' I began even as Caroline pulled back.

'Come on, Isabelle,' she urged. 'I licked yours, you have to lick mine.'

'No, I—'

'Come on – it's just for show, remember, and I like my bottom licked.'

Osman gave a groan and Caroline giggled at his reaction. She'd stood up, stroking my cheeks and spanking me gently. Despite myself I wanted to stick it out for more, and to lick her.

'It's true,' she said, deliberately teasing Osman. 'It feels nice to have my bumhole licked, and really, if a girlfriend expects me to lick hers, she should return the favour and lick mine. That's only fair, isn't it, Isabelle? Jasmine licks my bottom.'

Again Osman groaned. His cock looked fit to explode, and I was sure he couldn't last much longer. I stuck my bottom out into Caroline's lap as she ran her hands up my body to cup my breasts, still showing off, but in no sense faking.

'Don't you think that's fair, Osman?' Caroline asked in a voice like honey. 'For good friends to lick each other's pussies and bottoms, and suck each other's titties, and spank each other's bottoms and sit on each other's faces? I think Isabelle should lick my bottom right now, and she should have to put her tongue right in up my hole for being so selfish, right in so she can taste my—'

'Yeah,' he gasped, 'while I fuck your tits. Come here, you little cock-tease, now. And you, Isabelle, get your tongue up her arse.'

Caroline giggled and got down to the floor, holding up her breasts to make a cock slide of her cleavage, while her bottom was stuck out behind. I hesitated for an instant, wanting to do it but not wanting to admit to my need. Yet she was just too tempting, her pretty face flushed with excitement, her huge breasts held out ready for fucking, her tiny waist, her flared hips, the way she filled out her tight khaki shorts.

'I . . . I'll lick for you,' I promised. 'But only because I have to do as Osman says.'

It was a lie, and we both knew it. I got down anyway, to rub my face against the bulging fabric of Caroline's shorts. She was laughing as Osman took her breasts and folded them around his cock, fucking her in her cleavage as she struggled with the button of her shorts. It came free and I'd pulled them down in an instant, baring her lovely chubby bottom into my face, her cheeks spread to show off her plump pussy lips and her anal star. I stuck my tongue in, tasting her bottom as she had asked, to make her moan and wriggle her big cheeks in my face.

Osman muttered something in Turkish, no doubt calling me a filthy bitch again, and he was right. I was grovelling naked on the floor with my tongue up my friend's bottom-hole, licking her as deeply as I could get, and it was making me want to come. She'd begun to lick at his cock as he fucked her breasts, but was lost to view as I buried my face between her bottom cheeks once more. My hand went back behind me and I was masturbating over being made to lick Caroline's bottom, only for Osman's voice to break through my rising ecstasy.

'Now suck me, Isabelle,' he demanded. 'You said you would. Suck me while I fuck her titties.'

I forced myself to pay attention, gave Caroline's bumhole a last kiss and knelt up. He had her breasts squashed around his cock, with the fat, purple knob of his glans bobbing up and down between them. I pushed my head in, smothering my face in her soft breast flesh with my mouth wide to make a fuck-hole for his cock. It went in and jammed deep again and again, so fast that I could hardly cope.

'I'm going to spunk,' he grated. 'I'm going to spunk all over you, you dirty sluts. Suck it, Isabelle.'

I was doing my best, but Osman was pumping his cock in and out of my mouth at a furious pace, while I could barely breathe with Caroline's breasts squashed into my face. My own needs were forgotten: everything was focused on getting him off as he thrust harder and faster still. Then he came, full into my mouth. I jerked back, choking, only to get a wad of come shot in my face and all over Caroline's breasts – and that was just the start. Jet after jet of spunk erupted from Osman's cock, most of it going over her, but he was holding my head in place and I got my fair share too, spurting into my open mouth and down my chin, in my hair and in my eyes. He kept pumping too, soiling her cleavage to leave his prick working in a tube of boob flesh that was well slimed with his own mess before pulling my head onto himself once more, filling my mouth with his long slippery cock-shaft and squashing my face against the soft sticky pillows of Caroline's breasts.

'Suck me clean,' he grunted.

Most men lose interest when they've come, at least for a while. Not Osman. He held me down against Caroline's breasts with his cock jammed deep in my mouth until he was satisfied that I'd cleaned him up properly and only then did he let me go. I came up panting, my face smeared with come, one eye blurry and stinging, my mouth full of jism, but now eager to take my own pleasure.

'Lick it up,' Osman puffed. 'And you can both swallow it.'

We didn't need telling. Caroline's tits were a mess, and we both began to lick up the spunk. A thick white streamer was hanging from one of her nipples and I stuck my tongue out to catch it and lap it up, deliberately showing off as I reached out to cup her pussy. She immediately returned the favour and then we were masturbating each other as we kissed and licked at her filthy boobs and each other's faces. Almost immediately I could feel myself starting to come, and I rubbed harder as our mouths met in a long sticky kiss, with bubbles of white froth escaping around our lips and dribbling down our chins as we shared our dirty mouthfuls.

I was vaguely aware that the door was open and that people were watching us. But I didn't care. All that mattered was that I was coming under the motions of Caroline's fingers as we shared our mouthful of Osman's spunk. He'd made me strip naked in front of dozens of men, had made me show my bumhole for Caroline to lick and, best of all, had made me lick hers and had then spunked all over us. As the first peak hit me I swallowed what was in my mouth, deliberately taking his come down into my belly as I'd been ordered to, a thought I held just as I held Caroline in my arms until at last the shudders began to die down and my dirty, delicious experience was complete. Or almost.

'Was that nice?' I asked as I sat down on the hard concrete floor.

Osman was beyond words. His face was puce in colour, his mouth slack, but he managed to nod. He'd continued to pull on his cock after we'd broken away, and there was still come dribbling from the tip, making his orgasm the longest I'd ever seen for a man. Quite a bit of what he'd done was still plastered across my face, and I took a moment to wipe my eyes before speaking again.

'There might be more,' I suggested.

'But only if you let us use your restaurant,' Caroline added. Once again Osman nodded.

I was exhausted, and also filthy. But Big Dave was peering in at the door and spoke as I looked up.

'It's all right, Mike's looking after your mate behind the bar. How about mine, then?'

All I could do was shrug. I was not really up for more but was grateful that he'd taken care of the Owl and I was aware of my promise. He waddled forward, flopped out his cock and sat down on a case of wine. I took him in my mouth, telling myself that it was only fair and that it wouldn't take long, only to hear Jack's voice from the door.

'Here, you lot. They've put Carrie and Isa in the back for blow jobs.'

'Oh, come on – not all of you!' I protested, pulling back.

'Just the lads,' Jack assured me, sounding hurt. 'Me and Stan, Mike, Mo and that's your lot!'

'Five men?' I queried.

'I'll help,' Caroline offered with a sigh. 'Come on, then. Get your cocks out, boys. We'd better do them all at once, Isa, or we'll never get finished.'

I nodded and went back to sucking Big Dave's cock. The others pushed in, Jack inserting himself in Caroline's mouth and Mo unzipping to place my hand on his cock. There wasn't really enough room for Tierney, who stood in the doorway, masturbating as he watched the others get their cocks sucked. Only when Osman left did he get in, feeding his prick to Caroline as she began to toss Jack off. I followed his example, alternating between Mo and Dave in my mouth, and soon all four men had stiff wet erections for us to play with. Dave had obviously been touching himself while he watched Osman use Caroline and me, because he was soon ready.

'I'm going to do it in your face,' he grunted, and immediately suited his action to his words. Come exploded from the tip of his cock into my mouth and flooded down my neck, then more spurted over my nose and cheek.

Mo laughed to see what had been done to me and pressed closer as Dave moved back. He began to masturbate into my mouth and I was expecting the same treatment again at any moment when Mike appeared, tugging down his zip as he entered the room.

'Os and that little piece with the big tits are doing the bar,' he said, 'so this has got to be quick. Give over, Mo.'

I let Mo slip from my mouth and took Mike in, the fourth cock I'd sucked in the space of a few minutes. Naked, plastered in spunk and still with two men to suck off, I couldn't help but start to get excited again. Letting my spare hand sneak between my thighs made it much easier to accept what I was doing. I decided to finish Mike off quickly and then come with Mo in my mouth, although if they'd chosen to fuck me I'd have spread my thighs or stuck my bum high on the instant.

Neither of them did. Mike jammed himself deep to spunk down my throat and force me to swallow what he'd done and Mo popped himself back in my mouth before I'd caught my breath properly. I began to rub harder, knowing that he wouldn't be long, and watched Caroline as she dealt with her two men. Both were about to come, and my pussy gave a delicious twitch as she was given a double faceful, which she immediately began to rub into her tits and cunt. That made me want to go to her again, and I began to push my lips onto the head of Mo's cock, hoping he'd come so that Caroline and I could share another orgasm with our mouths full of spunk. It was going to happen at any moment, but as my thighs began to squeeze together the door slammed open. Mo jerked back at the exact instant he came, ejaculating full in my face even as he swore in shock and a coarse female voice roared out.

'Get here, you filthy little whore!'

I screamed as a finger and thumb like a pair of pliers closed on my ear, and again as I was hauled to my feet. Mo had spunked in my eyes and I could barely see, but I recognised the massive backside and tree-trunk legs of Edna Jellaby as I was pulled staggering from the room.

'Hey, no!' I managed. 'No, not . . . why are you . . .? Hey! No, not on the stage! No, Edna!'

It was too late. I'd been dragged out onto the stage, naked and filthy in front of several hundred people.

'I'll teach you to go with my hubby, you dirty whore!' Edna screamed, snatching a chair up from the floor.

'No!' I wailed as I was jerked down across her lap, my naked bottom presented the audience. 'No, Edna, please, not a spanking . . . not in front of everybody, no!'

My words were choked off by a squeal of pain as Edna's hand smacked down across my bottom. Her palm was so big that it covered almost the entire area of my cheeks, and the blow was delivered so hard that I was jammed forward, leaving me head down over her lap with my legs waving in the air and my cunt spread to the stares of maybe a hundred gaping men, and to Amy Jane Moffat.

I could see her through the legs of the chair I was bent over, her hand to her mouth as she stared in horror. Osman was next to her, but he was laughing, as were most of the other men in the place, their voices raised in a chorus of derision and delight at what I was getting – and what I was showing. I burst into tears, beating my fists on the wooden floor of the stage in an agony of shame as Edna's huge hand slapped down on my bottom again and again.

'I didn't know he was your husband!' I screamed. 'I didn't! I didn't!'

She only spanked harder, tightening the grip she'd taken around my waist to leave me with my legs flailing in every direction and my bottom bucking frantically up and down as I fought to escape the pain and hide my swollen juicy cunt from the stares of my audience. They were getting a full show of my bumhole, too. It was still wet with Caroline's spit, but for once that wasn't the worst thing to be showing, because for all my pain and the blubbering, screaming tantrum I was gripped in, I was about to come.

I just couldn't help it. Edna was spanking me right over my cunt, furiously hard, and it just happened. My orgasm kicked in with unstoppable power and my screams of pain and humiliation turned to shrieks of ecstasy. The observers realised what had happened, men calling out in astonishment as my body jerked and shook in the throes of orgasm, and all the while Edna still spanked my blazing bottom, until she too realised that something was wrong.

'Why, you filthy, dirty little . . .' she gasped, and let go of me.

My bottom hit the stage first as I tumbled off her lap, leaving me spread-legged in front of the audience, gasping for breath, tears and snot and spunk dribbling down my face and over my tits, my wet cunt still on show. I was still in the middle of my climax and I lay back, lifted my legs high and opened them wide to make sure the men got a good eyeful, stuck one finger up my slippery bottom, a thumb in my gaping cunt, and finished myself off with my fingers. Every single member of my audience watched me in stunned silence, but none was more stunned than the Owl.