TABLE OF CONTENTS

‘Peel me a grape, James.’

‘Very well, Miss Annabelle.’

I lay back onto the soft warm grass. Jamie’s Jeeves imitation had been good, but not his best. There was just a hint of ‘enough of your impudence, girl’ about it, which was rather nice. He hesitated for just a moment before selecting a fruit from among the remains of our picnic. I watched, lazy-eyed, as he removed the skin with exaggerated formality. My mouth came open, to allow him to pop the delicacy inside. I swallowed, purring as the sweet juice burst into my mouth.

‘Another, miss?’

‘No. Champagne.’

I stretched out for the bottle of Bollinger, and gripped it firmly by the neck. Putting it to my lips, I began to drink, letting the bubbles fill my mouth before swallowing. Jamie watched for a moment, and spoke as I lowered the bottle.

‘I bet you can’t drink it all. Not in one.’

‘Oh, but I can. Just watch.’

I knew I could, but I knew Jamie too. I tipped the bottle high, swallowing the champagne, one gulp, a second, before it exploded into a mass of bubbles. Wine burst from my lips, and out of my nose too, which was more than I’d really intended. I dissolved into giggles, then coughed as I started to choke. Jamie just laughed, watching the champagne as it ran down my face and over my chest, soaking my blouse. Finally I managed to find my voice.

‘Bastard!’

‘I said you couldn’t do it.’

‘I can do it. I just choked.’

‘Nonsense. Nobody can do it, not a whole bottle — well, three-quarters anyway — not champagne.’

‘I can. I did it at Trinity Ball, ask anyone.’

‘Oh, your college friends, sure. They’d say anything.’

‘I can.’

‘You can not. I’ll bet. If you can, I… I’ll lick your fanny for you. If you can’t, you have to suck my cock.’

I just giggled. I’d been expecting him to make an advance all day, and I was in no mood to pretend to be coy. Without answering, I put the bottle to my lips once more and began to drink, slowly, never allowing the wine to completely fill the neck of the bottle. With my mouth full of champagne I swallowed, glancing to where Jamie was watching me, from pale eyes half hidden beneath the yellow curls of his fringe, his rather over-full mouth slightly open. Again my mouth filled, again I swallowed. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. I felt a shiver go through me, thinking of the same gesture repeated with his face pressed between my thighs. I’d been anticipating sex with him all morning, since promising him a lift from Oxford down to his place in Sussex. Now it looked as if it was going to happen.

Again I swallowed, a third mouthful and a fourth, leaving only a froth of bubbles in the Bollinger bottle. I sucked the neck, drawing them in, deliberately mimicking the action of sucking cock, and letting the last few bubbles run down over my chin, just to taunt him. It was done, the bottle empty. Lifting my index finger, I beckoned to him.

‘Here?’

‘Yes, here. Nobody can see.’

‘But…’

‘You’re not going to be prissy about it, are you?’

‘No, but… I thought maybe later?’

‘There won’t be a later unless you get your face where it belongs, St James.’

I was not going to let him back out of it. As I spoke I had reached up under my skirt. He watched, his thick lips still parted, as I lifted my bottom, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my knickers, pushed them down and off. His eyes grew a little wider, responding to the show I was making of myself. For a moment I considered just teasing him, but I wanted more. I pulled up my skirt, feeling a familiar fluttering in my tummy as first my legs, then my sex came bare. Jamie’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

‘Pussy time, Jamie.’

He gave a nervous glance over his shoulder, to where the area of flat grass we had selected for our picnic looked out over a field. Nobody was visible, but the expression on his face was more than a little hesitant as he turned back to me. I crooked my finger again.

‘I’m waiting, James.’

He swallowed again, not moving.

‘Come on, James. You know you have to. If I’d lost you’d want your cock sucked right here and now, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes… but I’m a chap.’

‘Alexander St James, you will lick my pussy now!’

His face went abruptly red, but he moved forward, to between my thighs, and straight to my pussy. My mouth came open as he started to lick — too hard and eager, at least for the start. I reached down. My fingers pushed into his tangled blond curls. He responded to the gentle pressure of my hand, pulling back his lips for a moment before touching again, to kiss the gentle swell of my pussy mound. My thighs came up and I lay back, holding his head gently in place. He began to lick again, now gently, and my eyes closed in bliss.

It still wasn’t right. He was clumsy, inexperienced, his tongue lapping up the length of my pussy in a way that reminded me irresistibly of an over-eager hound licking at my face. The thought made me giggle, and I took a firmer grip in his hair.

‘On my clitty, silly, just with the end of your tongue. Not hard.’

Jamie shifted his weight and began to lick again, more or less the way I had instructed. It was better, far better, sending little jolts of pleasure through me as he lapped. I could feel myself climbing slowly towards orgasm, and I began to purr, my thighs coming wider still, and up, to give him complete access to my body. Immediately his hands went under my bottom, to hold my cheeks and squeeze them, one finger tickling my crease, a bare inch from my bottom hole. I sighed, stretching, my back arching in pleasure. My hands went to my breasts, stroking them gently, my fingers brushing the hard nipples through my blouse and bra. Suddenly I had to be bare. Two swift movements and my blouse was up, along with my bra, and I was exposed, my breasts exposed to the warm sunlight, my nipples tingling to the touch of my fingers as I began to stroke once more.

I felt glorious, my clothing dishevelled, my legs and breasts naked, my bottom cupped in a firm male grip, and best of all, a man’s tongue busy on my pussy. He was getting excited about it too, licking ever more firmly and squeezing my bottom. His little finger found my bottom hole and began to tickle, making my muscles jump. I didn’t try to stop him. It felt too naughty, too deliciously naughty, just to be touched in that most secret place.

‘Dirty little boy.’

It was true. He was dirty, fixated on my bottom, always trying to get a peep or make me do something rude, to find an excuse for me to take off my knickers. Not that I minded. I like attention from him. I knew what he really wanted too: to see the little tight hole between my bottom cheeks, the hole he was now tickling with his finger — and more.

I was going to come at any moment, with his tongue flicking on my pussy, in just the right place. He was getting bolder too, and ruder, his finger a little way into my bottom hole. I wondered whether that was what he really liked, whether he’d done it with other men. It was such a dirty thought, enough to tip me over the edge as I imagined him locked in a rude, sweaty embrace with one of his male friends, perhaps with me in the middle, sandwiched. The image stayed in my mind, as clearly as if I’d really seen it, and as my back started to arch I cried out.

‘Oh, you dirty, dirty little boy! Yes, do it. I’m there!’

It hit me as I spoke, my pussy tightening of her own accord, and my bottom hole on his invading finger. I squeezed my thighs tight on his head, my pussy contracted again — once slowly, and again, faster, in a series of hard spasms — to make me cry out in ecstasy as I came. For one moment it was unbearable, my pussy just too sensitive, and he had stopped, to leave me with my legs shaking in reaction as he pulled his face back.

For a long moment I just lay still, my eyes closed in bliss as the exquisite pleasure of my orgasm faded slowly away. I was still stroking my breasts, hardly aware I was doing it, my fingers moving gently over the erect nipples. I let my thighs stay wide too, open to Jamie in willing acceptance of his cock.

‘No, er… johnnies, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you’re in the mood for a bit of school butter?’

I sighed. Imagination was one thing; the reality, another.

‘No, I am not.’

‘Oh, shame… I wouldn’t mind that blow job, if it’s still going?’

I sighed, the moment broken, then stretched, considering the prospect of sucking his cock. I actually felt rather lazy, relaxed, and not altogether inclined to make the effort, despite my drunken state and the appeal of taking his erection into my mouth. If he’d just climbed on top of me it would have been one thing; cock sucking was another. I opened my eyes, to find him looking down at me, his own pale eyes wide in hope, for all the world like a dog in anticipation of a bone. The urge to tease him returned, stronger than before.

‘No, I shan’t. I won the bet and so I should take my prize. If I suck you, it just spoils the bet.’

‘But Annabelle…’

‘No buts. Maybe you’ll get a treat later, if you’re a good boy. For now, we had better get on.’

Jamie bit his lip, but made no protest, starting to put the picnic things away as I made myself decent. I was feeling thoroughly pleased with myself: naughty, and completely in control of the situation, something I always enjoy. I let him do the tidying up, and carry the hamper, walking in front with a deliberate wiggle, half in the hope that he might lose patience with my teasing. He didn’t, although when I glanced back I found his eyes fixed firmly on my rear view. I winked and, as I reached the car, Daddy’s brand new, bright red Jaguar X-Type, I draped myself over the bonnet, pushing up my bottom, only to jump up as he made a grab for me. He made a face, but didn’t push the issue. As he packed the hamper away in the boot he turned to speak.

‘I’d better drive, don’t you think?’

I was going to give him a snappy answer for his arrogance, but stopped before I spoke. My head was spinning and I didn’t feel quite steady on my feet. So I gave him a wry smile and dipped into my bag for the car keys, which I threw to him. He opened my door and held it for me, going into his Jeeves routine again, and even ignoring the deliberate invitation of my bottom as I half crawled into the seat. Relaxing back, I wondered whether he was genuinely unsure of himself, or whether he was teasing me as I was teasing him.

He got in beside me, started the car and drew out into the road. I closed my eyes, content, but with my sense of mischief rising. If he was teasing me, it was working, because I was now wishing he had jumped me. I was eager to do something naughty, feeling drunk, sexy and very relaxed. I knew what too — exactly what. Jamie spoke.

‘Could you map-read for me? I don’t want to go through Reading if I can help it, and…’

‘Shut up, Jamie, and never mind Reading. Just stick to the back roads. You never know, I might decide to suck your cock for you after all.’

‘That would be great.’

‘You could have made me, you know, back there. You should have, really. In fact, do you know what you should have done?’

‘No, what?’

‘When I refused, you should have caught me by the ankles. You should have turned me over, bottom up. And do you know what you should have done then?’

‘No. Do tell.’

‘You should have spanked my bottom for me. That’s what you should have done. You should have taken my knickers off and stuck them in my mouth to stop me squealing, and given me a jolly good spanking. I’m ever so willing after a spanking. I’d have sucked you and swallowed too.’

Jamie didn’t answer, except to make an odd gulping noise in his throat. I’d touched a raw spot, I was sure. I suppressed a giggle and carried on.

‘It’s the best way to treat me, you know, Jamie, if I’m cheeky, or if I tease. Just put me across your lap and spank my naughty bottom. Bare, of course, knickers down and all warm and rosy. It’s just my favourite thing.’

‘I just might, if you don’t shut up.’

‘Oh yes please! Do it now. Do me over a gate, or over the bonnet of the car, with my skirt thrown up and my knickers well down. And when my bum’s all hot and red I’ll give you the nicest suck you’ve ever had, slow and loving. I’ll suck your balls too, and lick —’

‘Annabelle! You’re driving me mad!’

‘Stop the car, then. Spank me. Fuck me if you like…’

‘At home. I told you, I don’t have any johnnies.’

‘No. Now. I don’t care about the condoms. There are other things we can do; different things.’

‘We’ll be there in an hour…’

‘I don’t want to wait an hour.’

‘It’ll be worth it. Nobody else is there. I’ve got this great bed…’

‘I don’t care. If you won’t stop and give me my spanking I’m going to suck your cock right now.’

‘Annabelle!’

I ignored his protest and leant down into his lap to nuzzle his crotch with my face. I just wanted his cock in my mouth, all hard and male. He was ready too. It was stiff beneath the fabric of his trousers, a solid bar, just ready for sucking. I took it between my teeth, biting gently.

‘Annabelle!’

‘Oh, shut up, Jamie.’

I had to do it. It was irresistible: not just for the pleasure of it, but because he was being so prissy about doing it outdoors. I put my hands to his fly. He slowed a little, but made no effort to push me off, or stop. I found his zip and pulled it down, revealing the bulge of his cock within his underpants.

‘Let me.’

He reached down, to quickly unfasten his trousers and tug the front of his underpants down. His cock sprang free, a thick column of firm male flesh. I drew the scent of him into my nose, made myself wait — for just a second of wonderful anticipation — opened wide, and took him in. He sighed as I began to suck. His cock was big and tasted strongly of man, almost too much. I really didn’t care — too drunk, too eager to worry. I settled down to sucking him off. It felt wonderful and not just to have his erection in my mouth, but to be doing it in the car, with the added thrills of danger and exhibitionism. I was thinking about him spanking me too, something I was sure he wanted to do, and now I’d offered it.

I was glad I was drunk, and that I had admitted to my dirty little fantasy. Now it would probably get done; almost certainly. At his parents’ house I would be turned across his knee, peremptorily. I’d fight, squealing and kicking, but it would be play and it would make no difference anyway. My skirt would be pulled up. My knickers would come down, and off, to be stuffed in my mouth to stifle my cries. He’d spank me, and as he spanked me he’d lecture me, telling me what a bad girl I was, what a dirty girl I was, making him lick my pussy, sucking his cock in a moving car. Not just any car, either; my father’s car, with the man I was sucking sat where Daddy usually sat, erect cock filling my mouth.

At that thought I knew I was going to have to masturbate. It was impossible not to. My hand went down, wrenching at my skirt, to tug it smartly up, baring my thighs. Jamie chuckled to see my wanton behaviour. I took his cock deeper as my hand burrowed into the front of my knickers. My fingers delved into the wet crease of my pussy as his cock squeezed up into my throat. He gasped and I was rubbing, masturbating shamelessly as I sucked on his erection, my pleasure rising, my muscles starting to twitch as he cried out.

‘Jesus, you’re dirty, Annabelle. I’m coming. I’m coming in your mouth…’

He finished with a grunt. My mouth filled with his come and I was there myself, my thigh muscles locking, my mouth tight on his cock, my teeth closing as yet more of what he had to give me spurted into my throat…

Jamie cried out, a scream, matched by a screech of tyres. My balance went as I screamed myself, even as my mouth left his cock. I jerked back, in panic, choking on my mouthful as the car swung violently to the side. The judder of the brakes hit me, and a horrible sick fear overcame me as I realised we were going to crash. I heard my own scream as the side of a hedge appeared in the windscreen and we hit.

 

When I finally got home to Issinghurst I watched the police car until it had disappeared around the curve of the drive. I was still struggling to get my emotions under control, and telling myself that the right thing to feel was relief: that I was alive, Jamie was alive and nothing else mattered. I did feel relief, but it was partly because we’d managed to persuade the police that neither of us was culpable, and I felt bad about that because it was really my fault. I felt bad about Jamie’s broken arm too, and it was impossible not to feel bad about the car, however much I told myself that it was unimportant. Daddy had only had it a couple of weeks — his new toy — and when I was trying to persuade him to let me take it up to college I’d promised faithfully to be careful. I’d been anything but careful; it was a writeoff. So I felt seriously guilty and apprehensive about facing him.

I wasn’t really ready, either. Immediately after the crash I had been shaking uncontrollably and there had been a horrible sick sensation in my stomach. The shaking had stopped, almost, but I still felt sick. What I wanted was a cuddle, not to have to explain what had happened.

For a moment I considered not going indoors at all, but walking to the station and catching a train back to Oxford. Unfortunately it would mean that the first Daddy knew of the crash was when the breakdown truck appeared with the mangled wreck of the Jaguar. Still I hesitated, only for the decision to be made for me as the front door swung open and Daddy’s face appeared in the gap. I managed a smile as he spoke.

‘Annabelle? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be up at Oxford.’

‘Hello, Daddy. I was. I came back.’

‘Came back?’

‘Yes, I…’

‘Never mind anyway. I want a word with you, young lady. Come indoors.’

‘Why?’

He didn’t answer, but marched inside. I followed, my apprehension growing stronger by the second, my mind a jumble of emotions. He had called me ‘young lady’, and that was not good. One of my earliest memories was of being called ‘young lady’ after I’d decided that brown was a boring colour and that my mother’s pedigree chocolate Burmese Queen would look better yellow — Vibrant Daffodil to be exact. The cat had taken it rather better than my father, and his tone of voice was much the same as I remembered it.

Mummy was in the drawing room and gave me a wan smile as I passed, half-sympathy, half-exasperation. I returned a puzzled look, hoping for some guidance, but she simply shrugged. Daddy walked straight on, into his study, waiting for me before closing the door.

‘Sit down.’

I sat. He moved to the chair behind his desk and spoke again as he lowered himself into it.

‘Your friend Rosalind called just now. She was hoping to catch you so that she could pass on the result of your finals, and to sympathise. I told her you were still up at college, but it seems she was right.’

‘Well, yes… So… it doesn’t sound as if I did very well?’

‘No, you did not. You got a Pass degree.’

‘A Pass? I can’t have done! I was expecting a Second, easily.’

‘Whatever you were expecting, what you got was a Pass. For God’s sake, Annabelle…’

‘Don’t be cross, Daddy, please. You know I’ve never been very good at exams, and…’

‘You got in, didn’t you? With an exhibition. You passed your first year exams well enough, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘No buts. I am trying very hard not to be angry with you, Annabelle, but you have wasted the last two years, which should have been the culmination of your education. Do you have any idea how much it has cost me to educate you?’

‘A lot, I suppose…’

‘Yes, a lot. And then there’s your credit card bill. Over eight thousand pounds, in a single term! How the hell do you manage to spend that kind of money?’

‘Well, there are the balls…’

‘Balls yes, five of them, three double tickets. Can’t your boyfriends even pay for themselves?’

‘Well, no. I mean, the nice boys aren’t always well off, and at a hundred guineas a ticket or so, not all of them can afford it. You wouldn’t want me to go with some bore would you, just because he’s rich?’

‘Frankly, I’d rather you didn’t go at all. Or at least, if you must, only to one or two. And do you really need a different frock for every one?’

‘Well… yes.’

‘Good God.’

‘Sorry, Daddy, but you do like me to look nice, don’t you?’

‘And some of the restaurant bills. Le Tricoleur, three hundred and forty-two pounds? I suppose you paid for a few of your starving friends as well?’

‘No, that was just me. Ten of us went. We split the bill evenly.’

‘A bill of three thousand four hundred and twenty pounds?’

‘That does include the tip.’

‘The tip? What did you eat, for God’s sake?’

‘Just the set menu. It was the wine that was so expensive. You always said it was an insult to partner good food with poor wine. We had Krug, and Chablis Grenouilles, a really quite moderate Giscours, Climens and a glass of cognac each, that’s all.’

‘That was all? Good God.’

‘Well, it was a special occasion.’

‘A special occasion?’

‘Yes. It was the two hundredth anniversary of the Visigoths…’

‘The Visigoths?’

‘It’s a dining society, Daddy, the oldest in Oxford. It’s a real privilege to be in. There are only ten members, and it’s by invitation only. Jamie nominated me.’

‘That idiot St James? He’s a member too?’

‘Yes, and he’s not an idiot.’

‘An idiot. And what do they do, these Visigoths?’

‘Dine.’

He gave a sceptical grunt and adjusted some of the papers on his desk, revealing my credit card statement.

‘Oddbins, four hundred and thirty pounds?’

‘Bollinger.’

‘Good God.’

‘Don’t keep saying that, Daddy. Please. After all, you always said I should behave like a lady.’

‘Yes, Annabelle, but it is not necessary to spend eight thousand pounds in the space of eight weeks in order to be ladylike. Even then, I wouldn’t mind so much if you had applied yourself to your studies. I mean, honestly, what is to be done with you?’

There was really no answer, not a sensible one anyway. All I could do was play Daddy’s little girl and hope he’d melt. I hung my head and folded my hands into my lap. With my lips pursed in an expression I knew would look both sulky and contrite, I looked up at him from beneath half-lowered eyelids.

‘Sorry, Daddy.’

‘That look may have worked when you were ten, Annabelle; not any more. There are one or two other items here I’d like to know about.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes. One hundred and thirty-nine pounds spent at somewhere called Rubber Freak?’

‘That was for a fetish party, just a little skirt and top…’

‘In rubber?’

‘Yes, rubber. Don’t be so old-fashioned, Daddy. Everybody wears it now.’

‘Not in my circle they don’t. And what is a fetish party, for God’s sake?’

‘A party where everyone dresses up as their favourite fetish. Everybody has them.’

‘Good God! And you went in a rubber mini-skirt?’

‘Why not?’

‘Good God!’

‘Daddy!’

He drew a long sigh. I tried a pout.

‘I was just having a little fun. You’re not really cross, are you?’

He shook his head, as if in disbelief, glanced once more at the statement and put it down before he spoke again.

‘How about your career? Have you decided yet?’

‘No, not really. I thought of becoming an artist.’

‘Art, Annabelle, is not a career, at least only for damned few. We have spoken about this before. You can paint as much as you please, but you are not to waste your chance of securing a worthwhile career by becoming an artist. How did the Ainsworth Corporation presentation go?’

‘I didn’t go.’

‘No? Why not?’

‘I couldn’t possibly work for them, Daddy. They sell soap powder and stuff. It’s just too boring.’

‘You wouldn’t actually be selling the stuff, Annabelle, not directly. You’d be in management.’

‘I just couldn’t, Daddy.’

He sighed.

‘How about the others?’

‘Nothing much.’

‘Nothing much? What do you mean nothing much? Someone must be interested. I mean, you’re personable enough, presentable enough…’

‘I didn’t go.’

‘You didn’t go? What, not to any of them?’

‘No. Look, it’s just not fair, Daddy! I don’t want to work in some horrid company. Camilla won’t have to, or Rosalind, and Henrietta’s been bought a wildlife sanctuary in Norfolk. None of their fathers are nearly as well off as you are, and…’

‘Annabelle!’

‘Sorry, Daddy.’

‘Look, Annabelle, I don’t mean to be harsh, but you cannot simply go on relying on me. You have to learn to stand on your own two feet…’

‘Why?’

‘Why? What do you mean, why? For God’s sake, girl!’

‘No, seriously, why? I mean, I don’t really need a job, do I? And a lot of people do, so if I take one I’ll just be depriving someone else, won’t I?’

‘What? I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life!’

‘But it’s true, Daddy. You’re just being stubborn, really, aren’t you? I mean, you should be proud that I don’t have to work. Remember what Granddad used to say: “Never in trade.” He wouldn’t let Aunt Celia work, would he? Take his attitude. You’re a baron, you don’t need your daughter to work! And what a wonderful piece of one-upmanship, for the club, when you can casually drop into conversation that I spent over eight thousand pounds in a term. You could do it with one of your funny little laughs, to show that it’s nothing to you — or even that it’s rather charming. That’s it: look on my lifestyle as vicarious consumption. Your friends will be green with envy.’

‘Good God. You should have studied law, Annabelle, not English.’

There was a smile on his face, despite his best efforts to hold it in. I smiled back, warmly.

‘Cheer up, Daddy. It’s not all bad.’

‘It’s not?’

‘No it’s not. I’m still your little girl, and I always will be, so long as you don’t make me do some horrid job. It would spoil me, really, you know it would. You don’t really want me tough and businesslike, do you? Not your baby Princess?’

I was really laying it on, but it seemed to be working. I got up and walked over to him, to squat down beside him. Looking up into his face, I smiled and made my eyes as big as possible. He sighed, but reached out and laid his arm across my shoulders to hug me gently to him. I spoke.

‘Pretty please?’

‘Oh, very well, for now. But really, you must do something with your life, something constructive.’

‘I will. I’ll paint.’

‘Good God.’

‘Oh, shush, don’t be so stuffy!’

I kissed him and stood up, turning to hide a grin. For a moment he was silent, only to suddenly laugh and place a firm pat on my bottom. I skipped quickly away.

‘There, that’s better, isn’t it, Daddy?’

‘Not entirely. Look, darling, I am serious about your career, but I don’t wish to appear harsh. Never mind the presentations, the truth is I’ve enough contacts to get you in somewhere. For now you can go back to Oxford and finish the term. After that, we’ll see. But I warn you, I’ve already spoken to Geoffrey at Saunders and Yates. He implied he’d have a place for you, and if there’s one more piece of nonsense from you I intend to take him up on it. I mean that, Annabelle, and there’ll be no getting around me the next time.’

‘Yes, Daddy. I promise to be good, Daddy.’

‘Right. By the way, the Bentley’s in for a service. I take it you’ve brought the X-Type down?’