Fairyfield Grange

Open Day at Fairyfield Grange was well underway but it was far from over, and whilst most of the women guests were being entertained in one of the classrooms, an uninvited one in the form of Mrs Amos was following behind Margaret Pardoe and climbing the twisting back stairs. She trailed behind the tutor as she led the way along the second floor corridors, puffing and panting and decrying the need to rush, but in the end she deemed all the effort worthy.

To mark the Open Day celebrations the internal walls of the closet-room, so often called 'the dungeon', had been lined with imitation stone-cladding to make it actually resemble the torture chamber in a castle keep, and on each side of the room a half dozen boys stood immobilised, their thin wrists bound by rope and hauled over their heads by a pulley device coming down from the ceiling. They were naked except for a black leather dog-collar decorated with stainless steel rivets and a ball gag stuffed into their mouths. Hoisted onto tiptoe their young bodies were stretched taut enough for their ribs to be definable beneath their delicate skin. "This is a bit sort o' kinky in't it?" remarked Mrs Amos with a smirk. "Miss Hancock don't 'alf lay on a good show for people she wants to impress, don't she?"

"Show is all it is," insisted Mrs Pardoe coldly, "Everything today is designed to stimulate the imagination and set pulses racing, but visitors will be allowed to do no more than spank 'em and wank 'em in this place."

"It certainly stim'lates my imagination." replied the other woman thoughtfully. She gawped lecherously at the pale naked bodies quite openly, enjoying the bewildered expressions on so many faces and the way each lissom young figure squirmed against its bindings. She appreciated their helplessness. She'd been denied contact with such creatures the entire term, and now there were so many at her fingertips, striped-off, accessible and unable to fend her away. Her flesh tingled as she stroked the smooth chest of one sissy and the belly of another while contemplating the hang of their hairless cocks and balls, then she squinted at a small victim strung up on the end of the line.

"Um, yes. I remembers this 'un. He's Daisy. I had an awful time gettin' a feel of his winkie last time we met." The boy screwed his face around the fat bung in his mouth as she waddled across to him and gripped his penis with finger and thumb.

"Daisy is one of the youngest," intervened Mrs Pardoe, while watching the other woman jink the boys foreskin. "He'll be popular with the ladies who don't wish to inspire a wet ejaculation, but I think you'd appreciate a slightly more mature specimen."

Mrs Amos released Daisy reluctantly. She would have liked to have pumped his cheroot until it was stiff and twitching. "Well yes, I does like t'see plenty o' jalop shoot out when I 'as a bit o' fun."

Mrs Pardoe gave her a steely sideways glance as she detached one of the other boys from the rope on which he dangled and briskly pulled him forward. "Miriam will be bringing some ladies here from the fashion show in a few minutes, so we can't afford to dawdle. You weren't invited to this event and I'm risking her considerable displeasure by sneaking you in. Especially since Emma Twist promised her you'd never be allowed to touch the children."

"Hmph! I allus said Miss Twist's tongue ran away wi' her. But a deals a deal between us two Mrs Pardoe. Yer don't get owt fer nowt in this world."

"Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if you hadn't made me an attractive proposition." the tutor replied fiercely, remembering the pact they'd recently made.

The illicit guest made no reply, but contented herself watching the schoolteacher tether the selected sissy's hands behind his back with a plastic snap-tie, then force them up his back in order to bind them in place with a leather thong hanging from his collar. The boy's wide eyes mirrored his disenchantment, but he knew struggling was futile. "Where's all the gents gone?" Mrs Amos asked at last.

"They'll be with a number of other sissies in the gymnasium."

"Pumpin' lil' arseholes like billy-oh, I bet." She gazed at the trussed-up boy being offered to her. "What's this ones name."

Mrs Pardoe looked down at the child, pushing the fringe of hair up from his brow. "Names aren't too important on days such as this. Call him Fido, he'll come to heel like a dog if you're assertive." She swung round. "Take care what you do, Mrs Amos. You can spank him and belt him with a strap, and you're at liberty to use your sordid imagination. But Miss Hancock won't tolerate undue violence - and of course she won't stand for any male-on-female sex either."

The other woman conjured up a hurt expression. "I ain't a monster Mrs P. I only ever wants to make 'em a bit wriggley an' do a squirt. If I let the little thing shag me I'd suck 'im in and blow 'im out in bubbles."

Mrs Pardoe winced at the woman's crudity but held back on a reprimand. The hag and herself had entered into an agreement for that evening, and she didn't wish to complicate matters. Silently she clipped a dog-leash onto the D-ring on the boys collar and handed him over. "Go upstairs to the east-wing. There's a room there where you won't be disturbed. This little queen will know where it is, so make him show you the way." She rubbed her hands in anticipation. That's my side of our bargain done, so where's the girl you promised me?"

"Lizzie? I took her to your room earlier. I figured that's where you'd want her." They left the room together, Mrs Amos dragging her small prisoner behind her, then without even a parting word the tutor immediately went off to indulge in her own indiscretions.

"Stuck-up cow!" muttered Mrs Amos the moment she was out of hearing. Giving a sharp tug on the leash to haul her captive nearer, her eyes glistened. One of her hands roamed slowly down over his youthful breasts, down onto his slender hips before reaching round to settle on his bare rump. Her breath suddenly rasped heatedly. "Still, the bitch did sort out a little mincin' fella' wi a nice todger for me, so I won't complain."

Dumb and incapacitated the sissy-boy could only watch as she clambered down onto her knees, and with utter disregard to being sited in the middle of the corridor begin to lick his smooth pale thighs. Remorselessly she worked her way towards his genitals, then taking his pink bag in her mouth she rolled the little balls around on her tongue until his penis expanded and rose up stiff. "No proper sex may be the rule here, but I reckons a bit o' oral stim'lation don't count with that." she murmured absently.

Taking hold of the rigid penis she rolled back the foreskin until she could lick the tiny cleft in its mushroom tip, then she took the entire length in her mouth. "Mmm, lubbly!" she announced as she relished the silk-like texture of hot straining flesh.

Her mouth clamped down and it pumped so avidly that it only took a minute before she sensed the boys body coil like a spring and push against her face. "Oomph, umph!" Inscrutable sounds issued from her throat as he guzzled hungrily, pushing her lips right down to his hairless groin.

A few more moments passed, and then she drew away, her face a mask of satisfaction as she licked her lips. "You's lads here may be all queers, but you's still good spunk makin' machines." she remarked. Abruptly her expression changed. "That don't mean you're in for an easy time wi' me." she added scathingly. Climbing to her feet she jerked him forward with the leash. "Get up them stairs y'fuckin' little cunt. I aims to have more than one load out of you afore I'm done."

Mrs Pardoe's heart pounded like steam-hammer as she made her way to her room. It had been such a long time since she'd had a young girl to herself, to take command of, to admire and to love, and she knew Mrs Amos's niece Lizzie was a real doll.

On the way she passed the Joanna television-person ensconced with Gloria in the stair well of the third floor, both of them too preoccupied to notice her. The younger woman was teetering unsteadily against the sill of a window and moaning pathetically. She continued to watch for a moment as the woman's battered face wobbled beneath a hairstyle that was becoming increasingly askew and she noticed that Joanna was gasping at the antics of the housekeeper, who's hand she had allowed to push up under her skirt.

"Oh, nanny, nanny. Oh how I love you. Oh how I've missed your finger in my tiny hole," she was mewling. "Only you know how to please a little girl properly."

"Behave yourself," cautioned Gloria, who'd never met her before in her life. "Yer twat's all hot an' drippy, but if you's a naughty girl an' does a cum too soon I'll have to take you to my room and spank yer botty."

"I can't help it," groaned Joanna fitfully, "Oh yes, yes that's it. Use two fingers and push them all the way up. Fuck me like you used to nanny."

The woman was out of her bloody mind with booze and dope and an easy mark for Gloria, decided Margaret. But she was far too excited by the pleasure awaiting herself to dally longer.

She almost ran along the corridor, and just as Mrs Amos had promised she found little Lizzie Braithwaite seated on the couch in her sitting room. She was wearing a powder-blue sun dress with flaring skirt and a diminutive white collar, just that and little white ankle socks on her bare legs, and shiny, flat brown shoes with buckles. She was beautiful and cute. Auburn hair with golden lights that gave it a shimmering iridescence, languorous brown eyes, lips that were soft, pouty and pink, and with rosy cheeks that gave the appearance of a permanent blush. Margaret's fingers tingled and her crotch seemed to melt. She generated the warmest greeting she could, "Hello Lizzie," and the child smiled sweetly in return.

"Hello - are you Mrs Pardoe?"

"Yes, your Aunt Florence is busy and she said you'd keep me company for a while."

"I will, but auntie said I'd get chocolates if I do."

The demand sounded mercenary in the cutest of ways and helped Margaret to relax. "That's right, darling. You'll have chocolates later if you're a good girl."

From her vantage point by the door she watched, intrigued and slightly apprehensive. On visits to the village she'd occasionally seen Lizzie playing with her friends outside Larkin's store, always wearing a short little skirt and forever leaping around and showing her panties. With her natural captivating air of wide-eyed innocence she was exactly the kind of girl to appeal to a woman such as herself, and just the right age to find approval with her jaundiced tastes. As unostentatiously as possible she turned the key of the door in the lock before moving across the room to perch delicately by her side. The child's enormous angel-eyes radiated luminosity, and she looked so fragile at first glance, with a Dresden china-like delicacy in her features that contributed so much to her exquisiteness. She felt an urge to touch her, but held back.

"Did your aunt tell you anything about me, Lizzie?" she asked.

"She said you like little girls." the child responded somewhat blandly.

"Yes I do. I especially like pretty girls, and you're very pretty. Should I call you Liz or Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth sounds too posh. Call me Lizzie."

It had been such a long time since Margaret had seduced a child she felt awkward and inarticulate for a moment, but her eyes soon became drawn to the girls legs - smooth and straight little legs glowing with a sunshine tan. "That's a lovely dress you're wearing." she ventured.

Lizzie screwed her little nose in a delightful way. "Auntie told me to wear this one. I don't like it much, but that doesn't matter 'cos she said you'll want me to take my clothes off." She hoisted the skirt to the top of her thighs and flashed a glimpse of white underwear. "Should I take my dress off now?" Mrs Pardoe almost blushed at the girls candidness and she felt a stir within she hadn't known for months. Such a sweet, entertaining child, just being alone with her was intoxicating.

"Er, yes of course. You may remove it if you wish. I'll get a hanger." Despite her offer she didn't move, having become mesmerised by the girls fingers tugging at her clothes.

Lizzie appeared to have difficulty with a button and gazed up at her. "Can you help me with this, Mrs Pardoe?"

Abandoning all pretence of finding a clothes-hanger Mrs Pardoe reached forward. Her hands shook slightly, but the button gave her no trouble, and as if snatching for a prize that may elude her if she waited, she pushed her hand inside the top of the open dress to find no chemise or undershirt. Her fingers at once touched the pale, almost translucent skin of Lizzie's fledgling bosom and trailed up and down the flat chest, gently toying with her tiny nipples.

The girl made no objection to being vulgarly explored, and Margate's face glowed with indescribable satisfaction. After all the months of frustration she'd endured she at last had her hands on the kind of body she longed for, and it was owned by a child prepared to accept her caresses. The texture of youth was like an aphrodisiac, and as she stroked the bare, warm flesh she felt moisture welling between her legs, and she had to restrain herself from licking her lips. She could smell the scent of the child's skin and anticipated the taste of it slicking on her tongue. Lizzie would be sweet, with the kind of flavour only immature little girls could generate.

Using one hand to hold the back of Lizzie's head she planted a motherly kiss on her brow, while her other hand slid over the girls shoulder to drag away the dress. With the garment tumbled about her waist Lizzie revealed the fresh, clean lines that made young girls so appealing; her arms were slender and beautifully shaped, her shoulders sloped exquisitely, and her body, as yet undeveloped, had the small frame of a nymph.

The girl stood up to shake the dress off down her legs, her eyes blazing with mischief. Smiling, her tiny mouth opened slightly to show a set of pearly teeth, and she paused as if awaiting a burst of praise to which she thought herself entitled. It was almost as if she were conscious of how her beauty had power over people.

With her dress removed she was clad only in a pair of little white pants that were pulled up tight enough to make apparent the adorable feminine cleft at the apex of her thighs. Margaret relished every detail of the plump mound and vertical indentation, and as the girl moved up beside her she almost melted as she felt the warm pressure of that same little hump push on the hand she'd placed on the padded edge of the couch. She felt the girls hot breath on her face, and only a determination to retain some dignity prevented her from thrusting some fingers between the girls legs and groping wildly at her thinly veiled vulva.

Confident in her allure Lizzie writhed her body like a serpent and pushed out her diminutive chest, while her eyes narrowed in a way that was both thoughtful and seductive. Not yet eleven she was clearly far more sexually aware than her age justified. It was not what Mrs Pardoe had expected. Yes, she wanted the clothes off the girl, and she wanted access to all her naked charms, but she'd expected such things would happen gradually following on from shy giggles and sweet persuasion.

Tush! she thought. What did it matter? Whether Lizzie had been briefed on her paedophile inclinations or merely sensed them was irrelevant as long as she catered for them. And so far she was exceptionally good at catering for them.

Without invitation Lizzie sidled onto her lap, her small body arching up to cleave to Margaret's bosom and encourage the woman to pull her close. Sunshine tresses spilled around the back of her head and her porcelain fragile shoulders. Warm and smooth to touch she was just as lovely as Margaret remembered little girls to be.

The woman felt it imperative to remain in control, and she maintained a nonchalant, maternal air for a moment, but then primitive urges rapidly took over and she held the girl by the nape of the neck and inclined her head so she could lick the child's face.

Lizzie responded by parting her lips. It was a blatant invitation to be kissed on the mouth and Margaret finally descended beyond salvation. Taking hold of her face in both hands she kissed the shiny pink mouth for a long moment.

Despite her forwardness Lizzie displayed little knowledge of kissing. She used none of the subtle gyrations of mouth and tongue that transferred sensuality, but intimate contact with her tiny, firm little-girl mouth proved exciting enough for Margaret Pardoe. She moved her own mouth into the hollow of her neck, kissing the girls shoulders while caressing her smooth little body. Eventually she reached down between the girls legs to find the gusset of her pants. Committed at last she then began to hump the shape of youthful pussy flesh with her fingers.

Excitement soared in the tutor. Running her hands up Lizzie's midriff she gripped her under the arms, then tilting her head back she lowered her full lips in order to slaver over her small bare chest. The girl was slight and rather skinny, her ribs protruding when she pushed out her chest, but Margaret didn't relent, she ran her lips hungrily over everything until she found the insignificant jut of a tiny nipple. Checking herself, she loosened her ravening mouth sufficiently enough to be able to lave the firm berry of Lizzie's teat with her tongue, whilst kneading her breasts with one hand and fingering her between the legs with the other. "Ooooh! Mrs Pardoe -" simpered Lizzie, "That's nice."

"Really?"

The girl smiled and nodded, then grasped Margaret's head and forced her small breast roughly against her mouth. "Suck it a bit." she urged.

The woman nearly swooned at the invitation. Still massaging the child's immature chest and crotch she eagerly filled her mouth with hot, young flesh, drawing on the little bud that tipped it until it peaked. Lizzie swivelled her chest. "Do the other one now. Suck my other titty while you're touching me up."

"My! You're so naughty," Margaret mumbled as her mouth rolled onto a second tiny nipple. "Only bad little girls ask ladies to suck their titties so I may have to spank you over my knee in a minute."

Lizzie's mouth formed into a pout as the woman guzzled. "You don't have to -" she lifted Margaret's head up and her eyes narrowed. " - if you don't spank me I won't make a fuss if you pull down my knickers and have a little play with my cunny."

A lump suddenly seemed to germinate in the woman's throat and she swallowed hard. The clever little madam certainly knew how to make a tempting offer!

"Ere, well - we - we may be able to come to an arrangement, I suppose." she replied weakly. Her whole body throbbed now as her hands dropped onto the girls pants, dipped under the elastic and skimmed them down her thighs. She held firmly onto Lizzie as she pulled her feet from the leg-holes.

The girl sat down with her hands folded over her bulging vulva mound, bald and smooth with a defining slit separating the two halves. To Mrs Pardoe she was the embodiment of perfection - of beauty - of sensuality. "Lay back, darling," she urged, "Spread your legs open - as wide as you can. Let me have a proper look at what you've got."

Lizzie was certainly co-operative. She almost did the splits whilst laying back on the couch, her crack opening to display her swelling pudenda and just a hint of labia.

"Ooh, Mrs Pardoe!" Her tiny nostrils flared as the woman used two fingers to stretch open the outer lips of her tiny vagina. For all intents it was as if she were examining the insides of a purse that had a lining of pale pink. Tiny inner lips gaped, moist and slightly ajar. With her forefingers Mrs Pardoe gently opened those too, and there it was - the subject of so many of her daydreams - tight and pristine, the diminutive aperture of a little-girl cunt.

Such a shame to know such unspoiled beauty would not last, the woman mused. Within a comparatively short time that same tender, snug tunnel would no doubt acquire the habit of hugging the dimensions of the hateful male cock and milking out its ghastly seed.

She licked the middle finger of one hand and deposited spittle on its tip before rolling it against the delicate exposed portal. She pushed, and the first digit of her long, thin hand started moving into the small hole. The little snatch was moist and there was no resistance as she then wormed it into the narrow orifice. As she exalted at the tight fit of hot young flesh around her finger and began moving it in and out, in and out she felt the warm, slick insides of the girl pulsing and alive. Lizzie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She remained silent and motionless as the woman slowly finger-fucked her.

At that moment Margaret Pardoe almost envied men. At such times she wished she could have a man's dick so she could plough a juicy, junior properly. But, not to worry! Giving a young pussy a good length of finger always got her own juices flowing well enough.

Hot with excitement she extracted the finger and climbed down on her knees to cover the girls genitals with her mouth, sucking the little hole and tickling the sensitive places with the tip of her tongue. Lizzie quivered as she felt the lively flesh squeeze beyond the lips of her sex and enter her, and with a cry of surprise she clamped her hand to the back of the woman's head. "Wow! It wriggles like a worm in there, Mrs Pardoe."

The schoolteacher drew back after a moment. In her oral invasion she'd encountered little taste, but all the same her imagination had registered the flavour of violets and rose petals. Wild with passion now, she held everything wide open and once again began to wiggle her finger in the squishy pussy-hole.

"Put two fingers in," urged the girl shamelessly, "I can manage two, and it'll feel like when Parson Roper sticks his thing in me."

Margaret was startled - horrified. "The parson! He sticks his 'thing' in you?"

Lizzie nodded. "He sits me on his lap when I go to practise confirmation, and he slides his thingy in under my knickers. When he's got it pushed up inside me he lifts me up and down on it. My friend Pauline says he does it with her too. I think he does it with lots of little girls. Pauline says he does it to boys too, but I can't see that, can you? Not unless he shoves it up their bottoms."

Margaret became almost immobile with petulance. It was infuriating to be told a mans grotesque male muscle had squeezed its way into such a delicate, innocent body - jerking around and squirting its disgusting stuff into her immature womb. Was nothing sacred to that vile priest!

Nevertheless her passion bubbled at the child's urging, and she inserted two digits into the silky sheath of her bald charms. Lizzie's pussy spasmed, hot and moist, and began milking her fingers. "Oh, Mrs Pardoe, you're making me hot. I want you to show me your jellies now."

"Jellies! I don't know what you mean."

The girl rolled sideways out of reach. "It's what Pauline and I call ladies titties. Young ladies have jellies and old ones have floppies. You're not very young Mrs Pardoe, but you're not wearing a bra and I can tell by the way the front of your blouse moves you've got nice jellies."

Margaret didn't wear underwear when she had sex in mind and the young girl was alert enough to notice. "Come on Mrs Pardoe. You're not scared of showing your boobies to a girl, are you?"

"Of course I'm not scared," huffed Margaret, "It's just that - well, it's unusual for a little girl like you to make such requests." She felt it only right to make a show of reluctance, but having her breasts bared didn't really worry her. In fact she was rather eager for a chance to drag her nipples up and down the child's luscious little body.

It took only a moment for Lizzie to unbutton her blouse and as the girls small hands skimmed it back she thrust her breasts forward. Lizzie smiled her admiration and carefully caressed the jutting mounds, trailing her fingers around the fleshy contours until she was rubbing lightly on the exposed nipples. The school teacher had good breasts with soft, sensuous skin, and her teats were erect and meaty.

After a moment she placed a hand below each breast and cupped them in her palms, then began to squeeze them rhythmically, sliding the flesh between her fingers and teasing the hot, tense nipples with her thumbs and forefingers. Margaret allowed her to do as she wished, exalting in the knowledge that it was the hands of a pretty ten-year-old girl that was intimately fondling her body.

"They're nice ones," Lizzie husked, "I can tell by your nipples you've never had a baby. Shall I suck them like a baby for you?"

The woman glowed with pleasure as the girl's tiny pink tongue at once lapped across her flesh, and she gasped softly as her delicate mouth fastened onto her breasts. Surely Lizzie was much too young to know about pleasing women with her mouth - or was she? That had to be doubted when the young nymph's little lips engulfed each nipple in turn so neatly, moulding to it, suckling ardently and dragging wetly on the teats.

"Mmmm! You taste just like Miss Merrydew at my school," remarked Lizzie after a while. "She's only a student teacher really, but Pauline and I like her a lot, because after lessons when everyone else as gone she doesn't mind if we stand at her desk and stroke her legs - well, she keeps saying we shouldn't do it, but she never stops us. We stroke her knees, then go up and down her thighs, like this."

She stroked Margaret's bare inner thigh until the woman shuddered. "We both put our hands up her skirt and that makes her hot and flustered, but she lets us do it. "Hang out your jellies, we tell her. And Miss Merrydew does that too, she does whatever we say. She gets out her bare titties and lets us roll them about and play with them. And she lets us suck her nipples, just like I'm sucking yours."

Mrs Pardoe was panting slightly. It occurred to her that she was allowing the child to control events. That was ridiculous of course, but what the hell! What the kid was doing was delightful and it didn't matter who was running things if she herself could wallow in sweet, illicite sensations.

"Pauline's starting to grow tits already," Lizzie continued, "She says that means she's allowed to do things with blokes now, although she's only done stuff with her uncle and her brother so far - and with the parson of course. But everyone does it with Mr Roper." "Do you like what I'm doing? Does it make you feel sexy? Miss Merrydew gets all wet and sticky in her pants when we play with her titties."

Margaret uttered a quivering chuckle that betrayed her repressed excitement. "I - I'm - erm, not wearing panties. But surely you wouldn't wish to touch between my legs."

Lizzie's cute mouth returned a crooked smile. "Why not? I let you have a go between mine."

The woman's stomach did a flip-flop as the girl reached for the zipper and clasp on her skirt, unclipped everything and hauled the garment down her legs. Good god, she thought, she was being stripped by a ten-year-old child! It was inconceivable, unbelievable - but very erotic.

In fact it was exactly as she would have desired things. She'd been vague in her mind about how to contrive it, but had trimmed her pubic hair in hopes of the girl going between her legs. She only had a little hair, neatly trimmed into a 'V' shape and pointing downwards, and now, while Lizzie watched, she leaned back and spread her thighs to display her gash of oozing femininity in all its glory.

The girl was not in the least bit troubled. "Wow! You've got a lovely one. It's all wet like Miss Merrydew's, just like I knew it would be." She slid her hands along the woman's thighs and gently rubbed her fingers in light circles around the lips of her pussy, then she spread the labia with her thumbs and stared intently at what was revealed. The adult lady-pussy looked all pink and wet, like a generously layered oyster that had opened.

"Ooh, mmm, Lizzie -" Margaret threw back her head and exhaled a noisy breath as the child's face suddenly went down between her legs. She writhed and moaned as young Lizzie began sucking purposefully on her clitoris while allowing her tongue to make occasional excursions and slip in and out of her dripping pussy. Working her hips around on the girl's sweet face quickly brought Margaret to the verge of an orgasm, but her little lover seemed to know just how to keep her on the edge without letting her go over. Lizzie gazed up and smiled, her wet face glistening. "Nice huh? You like that, don't you?"

By then she already had two fingers tucked inside Mrs Pardoe's slick, warm pussy and was gently fucking her with them while stroking the tip of her thumb around the tense bean that nosed out from the fleshy vaginal lips.

Casually she introduced a third finger, then a fourth. Mrs Pardoe groaned and shuddered, but seemed mesmerised by what was happening. Emboldened, Lizzie tucked her thumb in too, then pushed forward until cloying flesh embraced her hand like a mitten.

"Unhhh!" Margaret panted, gazing at the place where the hand had gone she bit her lips but was unwilling to call a halt. She felt herself expand around the hand, oozing moisture and opening up to receive it "Oohhnaggghh!" She exhaled loudly. With the little hand buried in her up to the wrist she became enveloped by a deep throbbing excitement. Her eyelids twitched, her mouth went slack and when her breathing became laboured she realised she was completely at the child's mercy.

Lizzie's eyes fluttered and her coquettish smile almost became an expression of amusement when she saw the pleasure on the woman's face. She'd expected Mrs Pardoe to make her take the hand away, but instead the wicked school teacher was undulating her body and enjoying herself. She viewed her slender wrist encircled by the woman's taut, stretched flesh and pumped it back and forth briefly, which created a sticky, sloppy noise. Initially she'd not made a fist because the woman's passage had cramped her hand and it had been half paralysed by the warm, spongy inner anatomy that hugged it. Now, because there was a sudden excess of juice she was able to bunch her fingers and punch forward.

Mrs Pardoe heaved in her seat, too far gone to realise immediately that half the girls slender forearm had tunnelled into her body. Semi-hysterical, she shuddered when the arm, like a huge over enthusiastic animal penis, went too deep, but then as if to contradict herself she grasped Lizzie fiercely by the elbow and heaved her pussy up and down its length. The girl felt the wet pussy-lips contracting around her forearm, squirming and rotating each time she pulled back to twist her hand, re-clench her fist and plunge back in.

"Oh Christ!" Mrs Pardoe moaned, wincing as the sensations grew too much to bear, "Unnhh, yes." At that moment she was in a fuck-trance, undulating, wheezing, gurgling, her body surging and arching as her thighs clenched and drove hard down in response to the child's intrusion. "Yeeeooow, oooh!" She jerked and threshed, then in accompaniment to clotted snuffles and snorts, cawing grunts and soft whinnies she climaxed and her spasms weakened.

"Goodness me, Mrs Pardoe, I think you make even more fuss than Miss Merrydew." observed Lizzie blithely.

Margaret's mind reeled. "Surely you don't do such things to your teacher."

"Miss Merrydew isn't a real teacher yet, she's still learning to be one. She says she doesn't like Pauline and I to visit her lodgings at the weekends, but when we get her clothes off she's always wearing her best undies. She also says she doesn't like us to put a hand up her, but Mrs Tichborne's her landlady, and she holds her down and tells her to take it."

From somewhere the girl had acquired a large rubber glove and was squeezing a small hand into it, easing the open end up around her wrist until it fitted with an elastic snap. "W-what - what are you doing now?" stammered Margaret in sudden alarm.

"I've only half done you Mrs Pardoe. You'll have to turn over for the next bit."

Margaret's anus clenched in reflex to the realisation that the girl intended to shove a hand up her backside. She couldn't allow that. It had been almost too much to bear in the comparatively elastic-like recesses of her vagina. It would be impossible to tolerate a fist and forearm in the narrowness of her rectum. Gracious! It would be like taking a donkey-cock.

"Now listen Lizzie. If you're thinking of repeating your awful little trick with my bottom you must forget it. You're only a child, and anyway, I never allow anyone to tamper with me there."

"Oh please Mrs Pardoe, you'll enjoy it, I know you will." Lizzie insisted, "Mrs Tichborne likes it. She asks Pauline and I to do it to her while she lays on top of Miss Merrydew."

Mrs Pardoe paled. What was being proposed was utterly gross and she needed to re-establish her authority and forbid it, but instead she began to feel whoosey and her insides began to do flip-flops again. "This is ridiculous. I - I don't think - I mean, I couldn't possibly -"

Somehow her words didn't form up readily and her mild protests faded away. Horrified she climbed up onto her knees and pushed out her backside, allowing herself to be positioned by the little girl's hands. Oh god, she thought. She was going to let her do it.

A slush of oil fell between her bottom cheeks and Lizzie's rubber clad fingers scratched and burrowed. Margaret generated a subdued harrowing wail as the small, well oiled gloved hand wormed into her back passage and thrust against her sphincter. "Oh, Lizzie darling, please. Please be careful."

In the gymnasium things had begun rather sedately. The dozen or so 'girls' who were required to join the gentlemen there were wearing delightful fluttering summer mini-dresses that didn't hide their loveliness, and they were all perfectly made-up to make their eyes huge, their bodies sweet smelling and their lips kissable. Men met some of them at the door to scoop them up in strong arms as bundles of excited girlish squeals, and with pointed toes kicking slightly, they were carried off inside like blushing new brides.

Wendy walked in, strutting gracefully through the door and smiling at the grey-haired gentleman who'd kissed him in the porch earlier. The gentleman's eyes sparkled in return. "Hello Wendy, I was hoping to see you. You're looking lovely."

The sissy half-turned, wiggled his bottom and generated an extra-sweet smile over his shapely bare shoulder. "You say the nicest things, sir. You take a girl's breath away."

The Banker throbbed with joy at the undiluted effeminacy aimed at him. "All the other men are grabbing pretty girls. Would you be my girl?"

Of course he would, he said. Wendy settled on the shy Bankers lap and slued his arms about his neck like the softest of ropes, fluttering his eyelashes and wriggled his bottom to seek out the swelling in the man's trousers. He found it at once. "I'm so glad you picked me." he said in his best little girl voice. "We had such a lovely kissy-cuddle before, but we didn't have a chance to finish properly."

All the pantywaist's in the room were by then perched on a gentleman's knee and receiving kisses, hugs and sexy feels, and Wendy's man was no different. Bolder now, the Banker kissed Wendy hard on the mouth as he stroked his long delicate hands artfully up and down the sissy doll's slender shape and felt the soft outlines of the body beneath his clothes. "You're wearing very little under your dress." he said eventually.

"None of us are wearing anything but our tiny panties underneath, sir. Will you help me take my panties off?"

The man swallowed hard. "Take - them - off!" "Yes sir. All the little girls know why they're here. We're all here to be fucked, sir."

Around the room the lovely feminine boys began gasping and sighing and before long every gentleman in the room had a princess's panties off and was playing with her pretty toys. All the goodies there were exquisite - pink and girlish - and as each creampuffs sissy foreskin was gently peeled back and moved up and down a dozen little peelips parted to show dribbles of seeping goo. The stimulation of so many other gasping sissies in the same room soon had the girly-things overheating and one by one they squealed and pumped blobs of hot, sticky sissy-juice all over their gentleman's busy, loving hands.

Quite soon the pretty summer dresses had been removed off and the men undressed too, and everyone climbed down onto the rubber safety mats strewn about the floor. No seduction was employed there, nor any coaxing or courting. None was needed, for the men were committed to sating their primal urges while the sissies were primed to please.

Trouserless now, the nervous Banker at last lost his inhibitions and shoved his stout penis into Wendy's backside. Mindful of the man's inexperience the pansy had helped by sitting astride his thighs and positioning his anus on top of his demanding dick, then holding the oiled cock in his sissy-soft hand he'd whimpered as he lowered himself onto the thick, slick column, knowing it couldn't come out easily. At the angle he was moving everyone in the room could see his little rosette stretching to its limit. Gravity came to his aid, his own weight helping to force the cockhead in, and he was able to rise up slightly, and sit down again slowly, repeating the action and increasing the tempo until he was sedately bouncing up and down. Within minutes his gentleman was shunting it in and out of him with such furious passion one would have thought he'd been waiting to do it all his life.

A little way off Charlotte's tight orifice was stretched firmly about Lord Chance-Barton's redoubtable man-root and massaging the liquid stuffing out of the nobleman's glands, while also nearby two other young cuties were laying together, swooning as they each took a prodigious cock side by side.

There was a slight excess of men, and one or two pretty frillies were handled by two of them at the same time, but the pantyboys all knew that sissies had to be prepared for that. Mrs Pumphrey's sissy-bitch son Sara-Jane was experiencing his first real homosexual-orgy with Councillor Grimshaw and Doctor Breeze. The doctor was sitting on the mat and working the femmy-boy bum up and down on his rampant shaft, while Grimshaw occupied the lady-lads mouth with his giant cock, pulling his pretty lips forward onto his bull-sized testicles.

Variations on such themes repeated themselves around the room tenfold as huge hairy ball sacs swung against soft, small buttocks and thick cocks pumped fiercely into obliging young rectums. The atmosphere in the gymnasium was soon electric with lust. Ropes of hot goo smeared down over cocks and over fingers as beneath the dimmed lights a spermstorm began to blow. The spread of wildly writhing bodies took on the surreal format of a sex-circus in which the guttural grunts of men in rut combined with tiny gasps and thin girlish groans, and before long the room was awash with squishy bottoms and cum filled tummies.

The gymnasium was Hardwick's area of responsibility, but knowing how susceptible he was to diversion when naked young boys were available Miriam had discreetly asked Emma to keep a watchful eye on things. She was standing in the vestibule outside the gym door when Parson Roper appeared. Freshly showered and with a bathrobe girding his portly frame he marched straight by and entered the gym, only to reappear within moments sporting a mournful expression.

"This really is too bad Miss Twist. Miss Hancock assured me there would be ample youngsters to entertain everyone, but when I arrive I find not a single one free. Indeed, some of the gentlemen in there are having to share."

Emma smiled in mock sympathy. "Our sissies can manage several men one after the other and it was envisaged that the guests would spend quickly and make for a rapid turnaround. But they all the men seem to have come fortified by aphrodisiacs, and they're determined to keep going."

"Surely such a thing could have been foreseen," snapped Roper bitterly, "We aren't living in the middle-ages for goodness sake." The edge was taken off his irritation when Gloria arrived with some of the girly-boys previously engaged in the fashion show.

Being aware of the housekeepers own passion for little boys Emma studied them with an element of suspicion. "Only five of them, Gloria? There should be more than that."

The roly-poly housekeeper flashed an ingratiating smile that betrayed an element of guilt. Hardwick would never have noticed her holding back a couple of sissies for a little private diddling. She'd not reckoned on Emma being there. Bulbous breasts and gelatinous buttocks rolled beneath her dress. "Oh aye! Fancy that! I must have left a couple in the house. I'll go back an' get 'em right away."

Hardwick appeared through the door of the gym shortly after Gloria had departed, his face glowing from inexplicable exertion and his tracksuit trousers bulging indecently at the front. "Everything okay in there, Mr Hardwick?" Emma asked. The gym instructor nodded. "Yes indeed. All the guests are extremely pleased and the little faggots are in sissy-boy heaven."

As he spoke Larkin loomed behind him, his expression was lecherous, and sweaty tufts of hair sprouted above his ears. "By heck! This is a right lively homo-orgy Miss Hancock's laid on. A bloke can't teach them little lady-lads in there anything about whorin'. They're willin' to try anything that takes a mans fancy." He had an arm around the shoulders of a dreamy-eyed boy who's soft cheeks still bore traces of a recent cum-drenching.

Seemingly insatiable the shop owner's eyes lit up as he surveyed the spread of newly arrived talent as if they were succulent choice cuts in the window of a butchers shop. "Hah! They're all lovely, but some fresh, young tranny-meat wouldn't go amiss." At once his broad hairy arm reached out, grabbed hold of a flush faced sissy, and yanked him in through the door so swiftly that Roper, who was watching, was astounded.

Emma didn't constrain a smile of sardonic satisfaction. "Better be quick parson. The new supply is disappearing already."

Puffing with sudden panic Roper clasped Trudy and Zoe firmly by an arm. "These two are mine." he proclaimed, and marched them away into the gym to seek a space on one of the mats. Hardwick looked sheepishly at the two remaining nancy-boys. "Er, um! These appear to be surplus at the moment Miss Twist, so I'll - er - keep 'em occupied until they're needed."

A short time later Gloria reappeared with a second clutch of boys, but to Emma's surprise she also brought Mrs Amos with her, dragging her along by the hair and pulling her about as if she were a marionette. "I's found this 'ere slag abusin' one o' the chil'ren up at the house Miss Twist, an' I knows you said she weren't allowed to do that."

Emma ushered the boys through the gym door, then turned to scowl at the distraught cleaning-woman. By then Gloria had thrown a thick arm about her head and was crushing it against her body.

"Quite right, Gloria." Emma said, "You appear to understand my instructions far better than she does herself. The hag must be taught a sharp lesson, but since I'm not free to do it myself, perhaps you'll oblige me. Confiscate all the money in her purse then give her a good slapping before you throw her out of the gate."

Mrs Amos was beyond struggling, her arms dangled limp. Wide-eyed, face crimson, she moaned and attempted to make some sort of plea, but that was stifled when one of the housekeeper's enormous hands clamped over her mouth. "O'course, Emma. That's no trouble. I'll take her off an' do it now."

Emma briefly contemplated the fate of Mrs Amos as she was dragged away. Fearful of the beating she was about to get she'd beg and plead and make all kinds of salacious offers in hope of reducing its severity, and since Gloria was pretty much starved of any other sexual outlet that evening some of her offers may be accepted. She tried not to think to hard about what the two gross looking women could indulge in. She couldn't spare the time to be sick.

She checked her wristwatch. Judd and Greg Touter had been installed in the gym-store for the exclusive use of an affluent American who'd paid a substantial cash fee. The client hadn't shown-up yet, so while there was a lull in other proceedings she took the opportunity to go and check that everything was still in place.

She was surprised to find the visitor there and already stripped to his underwear. The spotless white of his vest and shorts contrasting sharply with his coal-black skin. A figure sufficiently imposing as to be intimidating, he had the typical Negroid features of flaring nostrils and broad lips, and he was tall, over six feet, with wide shoulders and a bull neck. "Mr Biffo. I didn't see you arrive."

The mouth of the guest spread into a wide grin. "Drop the mister babe, an' jus' call me plain Biffo. Some fat lil' old lady showed me the way here, an' I's streetwise enough to manage everything else." He inclined his head towards Judd and Greg who were standing naked against one of the walls. Both of them seemed intimidated. While Judd had his hands on his head, Greg was clutching at his bare bottom in the manner of a freshly spanked little girl, and he looked as if he'd been crying. "Couple o' nice twinks yu laid on fur me. I like the way yu made 'em cute an' hairless."

"Being smooth bodied is a standard requirement at Fairyfield." Emma told him.

The American grinned. "That naughty lil' Greggy said he don't put out fur no niggers, so I had to upend him and whop his ass like he wus some lil' girl. Now he's had a good cry he wants to please me - he wants to please me any way he can." He stared at Greg. "Ain't that right honey?"

Greg sniffed unhappily. "Yes - yes Mr Biffo, sir."

Biffo grinned. "Yu'see, he's showin' proper respec' now an' callin' me, sir. Both them cuties know the blackman is master here."

Emma observed everything coolly. Greg was always a bit of a cry-baby when he got spanked, but mindful of Biffo's hands being the size of table-tennis bats maybe he had a good reason for tears this time. The blackman leered at her and made a show of the ten inches of thick meat trapped in his pants. "Wanna join in an' make it a foursome babe. I got lots to share around."

Emma shook her head. She was only ninety percent lesbian and sometimes indulged the other ten percent with a good sized cock, but intriguing as Biffo was she had no intention of participating in an orgy that would put her in the role of a supplicant. "I'm afraid I'm much too busy. I'll leave you to enjoy the boys." she said.

The moment she'd gone Biffo reached down, grabbed his undervest and pulled it over his head. His pectorals were well defined and magnificent with dark nipples standing out in spectacular fashion, while lower down a set of tight abdominal muscles rippled on his smooth, hard stomach. He was an unscrupulous gangster with pretensions to be refined, but who couldn't shake off the mannerisms of the Harlem streets that had honed his nature. "Hey, Judd."

Judd blanched. "Yes sir." Ethnic differences didn't bother him as they bothered Greg, but Biffo's massive physique both terrified and intrigued him. He felt strongly attracted to the big Negro's inherent manliness, and unconsciously he glanced down at his wedge-shaped hips, trying to imagine what the his big black cock would look like when extracted from his pants.

Biffo grinned. "You've been starin' at me ever since I arrived. I guess I look tasty huh,?" He put a hand to his crotch and rubbed the log shape in his shorts. "Don't fret, I'm gonna give you white boys everything you need." Moving forward he towered over both of them, bathing them with the heat of his powerful frame. "What do you do to pass time in this godforsaken back a'beyond piece o' dirt?"

"We smokes grass when we can get it." admitted Judd.

"Yer don't mainline?"

Judd shook his head.

The chronic junkies Biffo usually plied his trade with did anything he asked for a fix, but he reckoned these two fags probably didn't need to be in a dope-dizzy stupor to give him satisfaction. He studied Judd closely for a moment. "Nice an' slim ain't you? Nice cock for a whitey too. Now check out mine."

Immediately he slid his shorts down his legs, and his enormous rock hard cock reared up with its foreskin drawn back over a dark purple cock-head that looked as big as a peach. "One o' you sweeties is gonna have t'suck my chocolate meat, so who's it gonna be?"

Both Judd and Greg blinked hard, but Biffo didn't wait for a reply. Reaching out with both hands he grabbed Greg's nipples and squeezed until the youth felt his knees go weak. "You've sucked dick before, ain't yer Greggy?"

"Yes, yes sir." Greg spluttered.

"Course you have, but I don't reckon you've tasted liquorice juice before, an' I reckon it's time you did."

He hauled down on the youths nipples until in a daze Greg found himself on his knees at the Negro's feet. In desperation he tried to say something, but the moment his mouth opened Biffo slid the end of his thick meat into it, and instead of talking he found himself stuffed with a cock that was steely hard and yet velvety soft at the same time.

"Now come on honey, do the work." Biffo told him, "No spittin' out. Do a good job fer me else I'll whap yer girly ass agin."

With brute determination he grasped the back of Greg's head and rammed forward with his hips, making the teenager give up any thought of resistance. "Wow, yeah! You look great on your knees with your hot whitey lips stretched around my dick." Biffo told him. He drew back, then slammed in again. "That's it. Suck it cherry-pie, an' play with them black balls. There's a whole lot o' stuff in there I want you to have, so suck 'em dry."

Glancing at Judd he added. "Don't worry about me finishing too quick. I've popped enough pills to keep my stalk up all night, even if I unload." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Say, I hear this is a cross-dressin' school. Do you two faggots wear skirts?"

Judd shook his head in sudden indignation. "Greg an' me are only here for one night. We're not real queers, we like doing stuff with lasses as well as lads."

"That so?" remarked Biffo as he continued to hump in and out of Greg's mouth. "Becha you'd put on a skirt for me anyway. Becha you'd be a girl fer me if I wanted you like that, wouldn't ya? Bet you'd grow tits for me if I wanted ya to."

Judd's mouth trembled and he felt a tumble in his belly. He hated the idea of being taken for a limp-wristed bum-boy, but he knew he'd do whatever the big man wanted him to do. Standing so close to such a big manly hunk made him feel weird and tingly and horribly submissive, and given the chance to run he knew he'd probably run straight into Biffo's strong arms and cuddle to his gorgeous, solid chest. Yes, he thought, it wouldn't be difficult to be a girl for someone like Biffo. He was so much more masculine than the fat-bellied grocer who kept him as a pet and rented him out.

"Gonna cum!" Biffo groaned. Greg started to pull away as the cock began throbbing in his mouth, but the big Negro stopped him with his hands and tilted back his head. "Aaah, gee, yes. You were born to suck cock, Greggy-boy," gasped Biffo as hot semen began to spurt. "That's it - take it faggot, swallow it down."

Keeping one hand on top of Greg's head Biffo used the other to milk his cock, leaving just the fat tip of it in the teenager's mouth. Greg tried to swallow quickly, but Biffo's cum was so copious that a sizeable quantity escaped beyond the corners of his mouth and streamed down onto his jawline.

When the big man had finished jerking he drew back and scooped the wayward rivulets from Greg's chin onto his broad knob-end, and then stuffed it back between Greg's lips. "Waste not, want not! That's what my mammy used to say. Pantywaist dudes like you shouldn't squander a real man's generosity."

Extracting his penis again and displaying it as still completely erect despite his ejaculation, Biffo swung round and grabbed both youths by an arm. "Come on sweet things, let's get down to some proper heavy stuff."

Judd gulped. "Christ Mr Biffo, is you gunna fuck us?"

"Sure I am, I've paid to fuck some boycunt, an' I'm gonna," the blackman said, "But you're gonna love it. Look at your dick, it's as hard as a rock! I reckon that means you're aching to have my big, black torpedo in your soft, lil' asshole."

He scooped up Greg, and while Judd watched silent and docile, laid him down on his back on top of tall pile of safety mats. Greg's legs were spread open, which made him feel vulnerable, but with his backside exposed and his shoulders scrunched up against the wall, all he could do was watch. His position brought the crack of his anus up to the level of Biffo's groin, and he knew it would be impossible to ward off the black man's huge, randy dick. But Biffo didn't assault him at all. Not at first. Instead he yanked Judd forward, heaved him up as if his weight meant nothing, and laid him on top of his companion, stacking one on top of the other.

Both teenagers had tremendous stiffy's, but Biffo seemed to have no use for them. He'd laid them face up so he could see their expressions as he did what he wished to do, and as he pushed between two sets of knees Judd's face took on a look of awed apprehension, while Greg laying beneath him, peered up with a half squashed expression that was a matching grimace of turmoil.

Biffo pushed with his pelvis and his torso. Cabled with muscle he made Judd feel the power of him as his giant cock squeezed between his buttocks. Squishy with lubrication, the teenager's anus spread open at once, and he squealed. He could feel the man moving in, going deeper and deeper, and as the tremendous length made its way he felt his insides stretching to make room for the invader. But it was what he wanted. He wanted to be filled, and when Biffo began to withdraw, slowly, deliberately, it was torture.

The Negro paused, his face inches above Judd's as he listened to the youth's moans. Then he began to move his hips again and push back in, this time moving his pelvis in circles, probing into Judd's compliant rectum at different angles. "Gonna fuck your pussy now, Judd-boy. Gonna fuck it hard." he promised. As he spoke he dragged back until just a few inches remained embedded, then he rammed forward, long-dicking him and causing the muscular ebony shaft to pump vigorously. Judd responded automatically, his body convulsing, his anus tightening around the thick, hard cock as it sawed back and forth.

"Oh man! That's a beautiful piece o' pussy you're giving me." murmured Biffo. "You really like being fucked by a fat stick o' black, don't you?"

Judd wilted with inexplicable joy. "Y-yes Biffo, I love your prick. I love you shagging me." He squealed as the thing stirred about inside his body, but he felt okay really. It was what he wanted. He wanted the humiliation, and he wanted the thick black cock buried deep in his arse. Biffo rewarded him with a grin. "I know you do, boy. I knew you were ready fer a length o' nigger-dick the moment I arrived."

He started to extract his cock, almost dragging Judd from the top of Greg as he pulled it out. Judd clutched at him desperately. It felt wild, like his anus was being turned inside-out. "Wait Biffo. Don't go away."

"Need it now, huh, pussy-boy? Well don't worry 'cos I'm gonna give you plenty. But right now I need to be fair an' give some to Greggy."

He pitched his penis beneath Judds backside and probed until he found the entrance of the other youth's back passage. Greg Touter's penis was thrusting up swollen between Judd's thighs as if wishing to compete with the black man lover. Biffo gripped it in his fist, but not to pleasure it, he used it only to help him lever his own massive tool into the passive backside.

As Greg quaked and shrieked the visitor sparked with an idea. "Say, maybe I'll take you two guys back to my shag-pad in the Bronx. I've a whole string o' limp wristed honkies who hang around me there, and they'll do anything I want if I feed their habit. But I kinda like kids who co-operate without being brain-dead. You could both have a career in the States. When I'm done with you I'd stake you out as workin'-boys on 42nd Street, or find you a place in a homo' whore-house."

Mrs Boroclough lived alone, but her house was the biggest in Peasmarsh. It had tall windows with ornate guards, and a polished copper plate fixed on the rought-iron gate engraved with her name - as if everyone for fifty miles around didn't know who she was!

It was far too big for a widow-woman who's children had grown-up and departed, but she insisted that someone of status, such as herself, needed to maintain a home that impressed. And anyway, Boroclough's had lived at the same property for the past eighty years, and it was now something of an heirloom.

The inside of the house was like the outside, solid, perfectly ordered, polished. Bowls of potpourri gave the spacious rooms a smell of attar of roses, and everywhere was decked out with Chippendale furniture and decorated with antique Chinese porcelain and collections of period jade and ivory. It was the aesthetic home of a woman who'd married well, but who had always been financially independent in her own right.

Poppy was accommodated in a ground floor bedroom that was usually reserved for Mrs Boroclough's visiting grandchildren. It was gorgeous! Never before had he known such luxury. Mrs Boroclough had gone out that night, and she'd told him to rest since she may required the attendance of a servant later, so left alone he'd undressed and stretched out on his bed atop a cream-coloured cashmere blanket with his head on a large, soft feather pillow trimmed with ecru lace. A lovely combination of euphoria and drowsiness had rolled over him, and rapping his penis in his hand he'd settled down to daydream.

On being told Mrs Boroclough wished to borrow him for a few days he'd been alarmed. He didn't know what to expect from a cranky old widow and he thought it ridiculous to be sent away over Open Day weekend when a sissy such as he could be so useful. But that's the way it had worked out, and off he'd gone.

The reality was better than he'd feared. When he'd arrived the woman had noticed his slender ankle-braclet and told him to display it at all times to remind him of his place in things. It was a tiny chain, and he was canny enough to know that a chain was the symbol of a slave, but as it turned out his duties weren't strenuous at all. What it really meant was he wasn't allowed beyond the front door.

He cleaned the house room by room during the day, sometimes getting a spanked bottom for not doing it well enough, but that was to be expected. He suspected Mrs Boroclough could be mean and hurtful if she was in a foul mood because she kept showing him a wooden spoon which she said was very stingy on tender bare thighs, but she hadn't used it yet, and she hadn't smacked him hard enough to make him cry yet either - well, he hadn't cried very much, anyway.

He had no skill in cookery, so she made their meals, leaving him to scrub the pots and wash the crockery afterwards. He also had to eat at the kitchen table after serving her in the dining room. At least she kept him daintily frocked, which was a relief, since he'd come to dread the thought of wearing boys clothes again. During the daytime when he was being used as a domestic he wore a second-hand gingham dress and beige tabard that Mrs Boroclough had acquired from the church bazaar. It was a precaution to maintain his housemaid outfit, since in the evening she said she liked to entertain, and when she had guests she wanted him immaculate in black and white.

That night he was laid on his lovely bed daydreaming he was owned by a rich American cowboy who'd taken him to live as a fuck-puppet on a big ranch in the wild-west. Like the men who owned him in most of his daydreams the rancher was jealous, and usually objected to other men using him, but after the annual cattle drive he would reward his ranch-hands by letting them have him for a night in their bunkhouse.

Oh golly! A dozen big, brawny cowboys with jutting jaws in need of a shave would fuck him and fuck him. They'd pass him from bed to bed and screw him mercilessly all night long. Wicked men with huge cocks would cum in his mouth and in his bum, and later he'd have to lay down and stretch out naked while they wanked-off all over him. Awful! Mmmm! He moaned, his cock twitched as he did a huge little-boy squirt, and warm syrupy cream smothered his fingers.

He was quick to clean things up. Mrs Boroclough insisted her house was kept pristine clean and she had the eyes of a ships-rat. They saw everything, and he just knew she'd notice if he left the tiniest smear of a cum-stain on his pretty bed covers. It was dangerous to play with himself in her house, but what else could a sissy do if he had no company? He wasn't in the habit of being alone. There'd always been plenty of others chasing after him at the school, and he'd always had company.

He remembered the clients his mother had organised for him. The retired factory managers who offered him cake and lemonade before they shafted him, the professor's from universities who were much too clever to talk with, and the black men with big cocks who's dearest wish was to shag little white boys. Some of them were good at what they did, but mostly it was only business.

Sometimes his mother sucked him off if men paid her enough - some men liked to watch a mother-and-son thing. Sometimes she would work his bum up and down on their pricks, and sometimes they'd suck men off together, which usually ended up with her tossing them off into his mouth. All that seemed so far removed from his present circumstances that it seemed like just another daydream.

He glanced at the window. Daylight had gone, but the moonlight made it almost as bright as day. It was too warm to sleep and he didn't feel tired, he just felt slightly bored. He preferred the word 'bored' to 'frustrated'. Frustrated smacked of what men thought a boy to be if he was bold enough to wear a little dress or raise a flirtatious eye. It meant 'available' and 'all he needs is a good fucking'.

On impulse he threw aside the bedclothes and slipped on the pair of pink panties with scallop lace trim he'd been given as night wear, then he padded out from the bedroom.

In the sitting room he looked about for a magazine with which to wile away some time, but found only a copy of the Yorkshire Post at the side of an armchair. On a small console stood a photograph of Mrs Boroclough's grandson, Alister, a boy of about his own age who was posing all scrubbed and angelic looking in a choirboy smock. Mrs Boroclough had said she'd like the two of them to meet and play games together one day.

Poppy put his hands on his hips and did a little wiggle, then he stuck out his tongue at the photograph and slowly curled it back in a solicitous beckon. Alister looked rather a nice, he thought, and it certainly wouldn't be a trial to play games with him.

Suddenly he was shaken from his musing by a noise at the door, and he knew it wasn't Mrs Boroclough because he would have heard her car drawing into the drive. He stood stock still, both hands pressed to his face, eyes peeping through open fingers. It was scary to be left in a strange house alone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pretended the noise hadn't happened and pretended there was no horrible brute lurking outside in the dark. After all, he was only a boy in pink panties, so what chance had he of deterring a burglar!

After a moment or two some courage returned and he apprehensively went up to the sitting room door, opened it a crack and half opened one eye to peer out into the front hall. How silly! He'd forgotten all about Jasper sleeping on the mat in the hallway. He didn't know what breed the dog was, but Jasper was big and fierce and a burglar would need to be mad to break in while he was on guard.

Jasper had made the noise. The dog had heard him moving about and had been pushing at the sitting room door with the idea of joining him. Poppy had his own ideas about that. "No Jasper, go back to your mat. You're not allowed in the sitting room at night." He tried to press the door shut, but the hounds huge head got in the way and with a determined push of its shoulders it burst into the room.

Poppy flapped his hands in exasperation. The dog was strong, its physical condition made evident by the way its muscles rippled under its sleek black coat, and Jasper had large jaws too, enormous, like those of a bear. He was as soft as a pudding with his owner, but Poppy hadn't been around long enough for the animal to except him as part of the family, and the beast frightened him more than a little. No way was he going to risk trying to drag Jasper out of the room. "You'll cop it when Mrs Boroclough gets home, you really will." he scolded sulkily.

The dog sauntered briefly around the room then turned to stare at him, tongue lolling out of its mouth as it sniffed the air. It looked expectant and beneath its haunches the scarlet tip of its penis pushed beyond its hairy sheath in the manner of a lipstick extending from its tube.

Poppy shook his head emphatically. "Oh no! I know what you want, and I'm not doing it again. Last night you made a terrible mess on the carpet, and I had to clean it up. Anyway, you take too long to empty everything out."

Despite the orthodox nature of the room an undercurrent of sexual danger lingered like a perfume in the air and imaginative, even bizarre fantasies didn't seem out of place there. His heart raced with unbidden excitement as unacceptable visions filled his mind. He disliked them, even feared them, but they thrilled him all the same.

The dog continued to gaze at him, and after pondering matters for a while he finally heaved a prodigious sigh. "Oh, okay then. But I'll only do it if you promise not to bite me."

Taking the newspaper from the chair he placed it on the carpet beneath the dog, then crouching down he felt his heart lurch as his hands stroked the hounds flanks. Slowly, meaningfully they drifted back to the place under its tail to tease the grey-black pouch of its scrotum and jostle the swollen eggs with his fingers. "You like me doing this, don't you Jasper.?" he whispered in a hush, "I know you do, because you loved it last night."

Drawing a deep breath he then pushed away his inhibitions and reached under the dog to draw his hand along the curve of its chest and the softness of its belly. The animal stirred slightly as his fingertips brushed on the furry sheath between its back legs and rubbed against the base of it. Having gained some confidence, Poppy at last became emboldened and gripped the prong lightly with his full hand. Dragging back the loose skin he felt the firm tube sliding about within the spongy interior as the scarlet tip protruded further beyond its furry sleeve.

He paused, then stroked the sheath again, this time pulling the loose skin backward and forward over the stiff core repeatedly, in a sort of rhythm. The tip began to thicken, and it took on a deeper, more crimson hue as more of it emerged. It tapered to a pointed end that lacked the definition of a human gland, and it was sort of slimy-wet in appearance.

"Yes, you do like it. And cripes! You're as big as a man." Poppy murmured aloud as he circled around behind the animal. The dogs tail had been docked, so he was able to sink to his knees and gently haul the dog-dick back between its hind legs. Wow! he thought. Playing with the hound had revived his own dickie-doo in no uncertain terms. He'd got on a real stonker himself. Bubbling with indecent excitement he took a moment to consider what he was doing before holding the glistening prong steady with his fingers and leaning down to place his tongue onto it. "I'm only going to give you a little lick Jasper." he told the dog and himself, "I didn't lick you last night, but I think its interesting to try different things."

For a second the sissy balked in revulsion, but that passed and excitement seized him again and he pushed down his pink panties and started to pound his own erection furiously while his tongue slowly traced the dogs veiny length from its tip to its furry sheath.

He kissed each of the dogs balls and bathed them with saliva, then closing his eyes he formed his mouth into an 'O' and bravely took the tip of the sturdy wet shaft beyond his teeth and clamped down with his lips, then grasping it firmly he began to pull and tug on it with his mouth. The canine penis grew stiffer and thicker until it was more than an ample mouthful, and the boy began to slide his face back and forth, taking in more and more of the dogs burly rod and increasing the speed of his oral massage. Both his own mouth and the dogs cock were wet with saliva, and occasionally he was able to take the heavy prick far back into his throat. All the time he continued to suck juicily. It may have been naughty, even depraved, but he was determined to draw some sperm down the gland.

Suddenly the telephone on a table adjacent to the armchair buzzed with activity and he retreated away in panic. Pale with shock and with guilt rippling in his belly, he crawled over to pick up the handset. "H-hello. This is Mrs Boroclough's house."

"Poppy!" Mrs Boroclough's voice snapped into his ear from the other end of the line.

"Yes, Mrs Boroclough."

"Were you sleeping?"

"Um, no Mrs Boroclough. I - er - I was reading Mrs Boroclough."

"If you've finished your chores you should sleep when I'm not there. I want you fresh and alert when I return home."

"Yes Mrs Boroclough. Sorry Mrs Boroclough."

"I'm no longer at the Grange, I'm at Mrs Tichborne's house now. I'll be home in an hour, so there's no point in you sleeping now."

"Yes Mrs Boro - I mean, no Mrs Boroclough."

"I want a cup of malted milk before I retire tonight. I'm utterly exhausted, so make sure I don't have to wait for it. I want it ready when I arrive."

"Yes Mrs Boroclough."

"Do you remember how to prepare my malted-milk?"

"Er, yes I think so. Erm - two spoons of er, er -"

"Three heaped teaspoons of Horlicks powder and two of sugar, thoroughly mixed with hot milk - not boiled milk. You really must get into the habit of remembering things Poppy. Life will be a lot less painful for you if you do."

"Yes Mrs Boroclough."

"I'll see you about 11pm."

"11pm! Yes Mrs Boroclough. Thankyou Mrs Boroclough."

A click on the other end of the line meant it was safe for him to hang the phone back on its cradle. Phew! Good job I'm quick with answers, he thought.

He glanced down and realised he'd unconsciously been playing with himself the whole time he'd been talking. His exposed erection, six inches long and dripping at the tip, made him feel silly, but he stood and admired it for its beauty. He was in love with it after all, in love with the pleasure it constantly gave him.

Jasper studied him inquisitively his head dipping and turning slightly, and Poppy felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness pound inside as their eyes met. It would be an hour before the widow-woman returned!

A prickly flush of anticipation spread halfway up his back, his hands trembled and his body quivered. An hour was quite a long time. Long enough for a sissyboy to be really naughty if he had the inclination. His gaze drifted to Jasper's crimson cock still slung beneath his belly like a primed torpedo. The size and shape of it fascinated him. None of the dicks he'd been with lately had been half as big. He felt a sudden twinge of guilt again, but what was a she-boy supposed to do if there was no one around to pay him any attention!

Putting a finger in his mouth he sucked it thoughtfully as he continued to gaze at the animal. "All right you horrible doggy," he said at last, "I'll let you be my sweetheart and I'll give you what you really want." Carefully he stooped down and kissed the dogs cheek. "You're a horny hunk Jasper, and I know you'd like to fuck a boy, wouldn't you? Well, that's okay, because I'm going to let you."

Dropping down he slumped forward with his elbows on the seat of the armchair. Knees apart and with his bum pushed back and open in surrender, he glanced back at Jasper. "Come on then, you randy thing, but don't be rough with me or I'll loose my nerve for doing this." He was trying to cover his apprehension with the sound of his own voice, but he needn't have worried. As usual bristling desire and sheer naughtiness in the name of Eros proved stronger than any fear of discomfort.

The dogs eyes registered a vacant look and his tongue flapped sideways in idiot fashion, but oddly, it appeared to understand it was being given a treat, and immediately leapt onto Poppy's back without any more need for urging. The sissy braced himself as the animal lurched on top and hugged him firmly about the ribs with its forepaws. It began bucking its haunches immediately and Poppy felt something hard and pointy jabbing hopelessly against his buttocks.

"Surely I don't have to put it in for you." he chaffed impatiently. But the dogs blind prodding continued without luck, and in the end he had to help by reaching behind and guiding the arrowhead of the scarlet prong onto its intended target. At last the stiff dog-cock pushed into the tight little furrow between his bum cheeks, and once there made it clear it was going to stay.

Jasper had powerful hindquarters and Poppy needed to stifle a cry as it eagerly ploughed into his clutching anus and began jigging backwards and forwards furiously. Once into its stride the dog was good. Its lunges were delivered with irresistible energy and were quite uncontrollable.

Poppy's girlish excitement was building. He rolled his head from side to side and groaned as the doggy penis jerked about in his backside. It hurt a bit, just like it hurt with men sometimes, but it wasn't the pain that made him cry out, the noise merely register his astonishment as his oiled muscles failed to grip and allowed the threshing cock to burrow further and deeper. He was leaning forward with the dogs dick stuck right up his pussy. Jasper was on top, pumping in and out rhythmically, and he didn't seem to ever want to stop. "Oh, ooh. Ouch! For goodness sake slow down you brute."

There was a sharp unexpected pain and the canines cock seemed to push into his intestines. Instinctively Poppy's stomach muscles levered it against his prostate, and that delivered the kind of incredible sensation that made everything bearable, and made Poppy immediately wilt. He was suddenly in heaven. "Ooh yes, Jasper. Fuck me full of puppy-juice darling. I love you and I want to give you a good time."

Ecstasy tingled thoughout Poppy's limbs as he used the inner muscles that all boys have but so few discover how to use properly to milk the ravaging dick. "You're a cruel brute Jasper. You just care about pleasing yourself and you don't care about me. But that's okay, because your the boss and I'm just your bitch."

On and on they copulated. Jasper was virile and strong and appeared able to continue for ever. A nearby clock ticked off five minutes, then ten minutes, and eventually the dog slowed to a stop. An exhausted Poppy slid from the chair and tried to throw the animal off, but instead he and the beast ended up rear to rear and locked together in dog and bitch fashion.

The headlights of Mrs Boroclough's car blazed through the window curtains as it turned into the drive, and the sudden illumination, so like the sweep of a prison searchlight, awoke Poppy with a start. He'd not intended to sleep, but he'd dozed whilst awaiting Jasper's prong to wilt and drop out of him, and now he felt flustered and guilty. The dog had separated from him and bolted off to greet its mistress at the door, but was there any telltale evidence around that would betray what he and Jasper had been doing? His eyes scanned the room. No, not really, only the newspaper on the carpet, and he could quickly move that.

His mind jarred as another thought entered it. She'd be expecting her malted-milk to be ready and he hadn't even started it. He pushed himself up. Oh no! He'd got an erection - his stonker hadn't diminished at all, and even when he hauled on his panties it remained rigid and made the front of the garment stand out like a bell-tent.

Racing into the kitchen he slopped half a pint of milk into a pan and put it on the stove to warm up before grabbing a tall china mug. Hurriedly he scooped three teaspoons of malted-milk powder into it, then dosed two teaspoons of sugar on top. His heart sank and his knees trembled when he again noticed the unabated thrust in his pants. What could he do with it? She'd be furious if he didn't present himself right.

He heard a key turn in the front door lock. "Poppy, are you awake?"

"Yes, Mrs Boroclough, I'm in the kitchen."

"Where's my Horlicks?"

He dashed back to the stove and stuck his finger in the milk to test its temperature. It was still tepid. "Erm, I'm just pouring it, Mrs Boroclough."

A lie like that wouldn't hold her off for long. She was already in the sitting room taking off her coat and her earrings, and he wouldn't get away with greeting her with a stiff cock. He was going to be spanked for sure, probably spanked very severely. She wouldn't be beyond belting the backs of his legs with her wooden spoon if she was tired and feeling grumpy.

Oh dear, oh dear! How could he get out of this jam? The kitchen was spotlessly clean and Mrs Boroclough's eyes scanned every inch of space when she entered a room. Gazing down at the front of his pants he simply knew he'd got a double load to get rid of, but he daren't masturbate in there - dare he? "Naughty cock, you're forever getting me into trouble." he murmured scathingly.

Mrs Boroclough soon lost patience waiting for him to appear in the sitting room and made a beeline for the kitchen. "This is NOT what I expect when I arrive home, you wretched child," she snapped sharply when confronted by his near nudity, "A servant should be properly dressed to greet her mistress at the door, and how on earth can a sissy-maid deliver a curtsy whilst wearing only knickers? This is awful! Most unsatisfactory!"

Poppy's head drooped. "Sorry Mrs Boroclough."

Quite unexpectedly, and very swiftly for her age the woman grasped hold of his ear and gave it a cruel twist. "How many times must I tell you that the lady of the house must always be addressed as 'madam'? If you weren't such a sweet looking little thing I'd pack you off back to the Grange this instant, but as it is I'll persevere and attempt to train you to do things as they really should be done. Don't bother putting on more clothes now. As soon as I've had my night-cap you're in for a jolly good spanking over my knee. Now, where's my malted-milk?"

She moved up to the stove with cool authority, hard annoyance lingering in her face. Poppy forced a smile and raised her cup of beverage up from the work-top where he had been stirring it, only to be treated to yet another tut of disapproval.

"Drinks should always be served from a tray, child. Didn't they teach you anything useful at that so-called school?"

As she sipped her drink her scowl at last began to recede. "You're scatterbrain Poppy, but I will take you back into service when I returned from St Alban's, providing you can get over being nervous with Jasper."

Poppy gave her his best smile. "Oh, that's not a problem, Jasper and I have got to know each other and we're best of friends now."

She patted his pantied bottom and stroked it appreciatively. "That at least pleases me. You have a delightful little bum and some of the ladies I invite to my home have a distinct bottom fetish. It would be a shame to deprive them of yours."

The woman said no more, she took her night-cap in her hand and strutted away into the sitting-room, while Poppy's fingers twisted together as the flutter in his stomach finally began to dissipate. He hadn't escaped getting smacked completely, but at least she wouldn't swat his legs with her zingy wooden spoon. He was a little apprehensive about her hot-drink, but he'd given it a really good stir and she had no reason to suspect he'd tossed-off into it.