Charlotte crumpled up the letter with both hands. “He's such a gutless, fuckwit,” she groaned. I laughed and said nothing. “ Get this crap,” she snapped, “Liam, my hot shit, wannabe lover dreams of my warm lips and fragrant hair.” She didn't pause for breath. “For fuck's sake, if only he dreamed of tearing my clothes off and cumming all over my tits.”

She broke off and howled like a she wolf and we both collapsed onto the rug and cackled like demented witches.

The afternoon air was warm and still and full of the drone of insects and the smell of newly mown grass.The school tractor was obviously back in action. A class of junior girls played noisy tennis in the courts beyond the line of trees. Above us the sky was a cloudless blue and the decrepit school clock struck three.

“You know something, Char?” I said, closing my eyes and tilting my face to the sun.

“I know nothing, Vesna darling,” she murmured.

“Damn right,” I said, “We're both eighteen years old, just. We're clever, rich bitches who know nothing, do nothing...”

“...And go nowhere,” she added tonelessly. We both cackled again. That's how we were, close as twins.

“Seriously,” I said, “This place is all so squeaky clean and organised and wholesome. No one says fuck, the teachers are all virgins...”

“...And even the school pets haven't got a single pair of balls between them,” she said.

“And that, my girl, is what our fat cat daddies pay the Lady Lassar Academy thirty grand a year for,” I said.

“Whatever,” Charlotte yawned.

“You're just a spoilt bitch,” I said cheerfully. I heard her sit up.

“Listen, sugar tits,” she said, prodding my left breast with her forefinger. “Face it, we're a pair of mollycoddled brats who need some action. Some majorly sordid sleaze, some intense debauchery.” She thought for a moment. “Some filth, pure and simple, that's what we need.”

“OK,” I said, “How about a good, hard gang fuck up the arse by a cluster of horny bikers?”

“All greasy leathers and skanky hair and tattoos,” she added.

“Stretched out buck naked over a big, fuck off Harley.” I said.

“Not completely naked,” she said, “Heels. We wear heels at a gang fuck. High, strappy, fuck me heels.”

“I like that,” I said, and I really did. I imagined a squealing Charlotte in high heels and nothing else; held down by bikers and taking cock from every direction. Then I imagined them doing it to me. Using me brutally, ignoring my half-hearted protests because they knew I didn't mean a word of them.

“We really would, wouldn't we?” I said, half to myself.

“Just watch me, bitch,” she whispered, “Just you watch me.”

We stared at each other for a long moment and I wondered if she knew that watching her was exactly what I liked to do. She may have guessed, of course, but I didn't care and neither would she if she knew.

“Fighting talk,” I muttered and closed my eyes, stretching out and listening to the summer and liking the sun on my face. And wondering whether we were as brave as we sounded. The pit of my stomach told me we were.

There was something about Charlotte that turned me on. I wasn't gay, I knew that; maybe I was bisexual. But I couldn't think of any other girl that did it for me quite like she did. She had a lazy, languid, slutty sensuality that occasionally turned into something else, and that's what I liked to watch.

As last term seniors we shared a large, bed sitting room on the second floor. After lights out, when she was feeling horny and she thought I was asleep, she changed into a writhing, hungry thing that gasped and panted in the dark, all alone in her bed.

The bed in question caught the glow from security lights. My night vision was sharp as a cat in the dark. I'd watch and listen, keeping my breathing heavy, deep and slow like I was dead to the world.

At first she breathed steadily through her nose. I saw the outline of slow hands that moved under the sheet and over her body. After a while she lifted her chin and her head tilted back. She breathed through her mouth, noisier and faster. Like the slippery fingers I could just hear, thumping between her legs.

Sometimes she stopped suddenly, holding her breath and listening. I knew why so I kept up my pretence, breathing heavily and regularly and waiting for what I knew was coming next. After a moment she started to twist and squirm under the sheet and I knew she was losing it. Just like she always did when the excitement hooked into her.

I always knew when she was going to cum. Her hips began to buck and heave and she made soft little noises in her throat, like a night bird calling. Then, at orgasm, she'd push the sheet to her waist with a rush like she was burning up. With an audible smack she clamped one hand on her breast, working at the nipple with finger and thumb and making those weird little bird noises as she came.

Naturally I got wetter as I watched. And when she came, I came too, but quietly. I gagged myself with the pillow and tried not to let the bed squeak.

My daydream ended abruptly when something nasty with wings landed in my hair. I shook it off and broke our long, dozing silence. “I've got a surprise,” I said, “Interested?”

“Only if we can eat it, drink it, wear it or shag it,” Charlotte grunted.

“All but the last, by kind permission of Hannah Cordle,” I said.

Charlotte sat up and took notice. “Details please,” she said.

Hannah was a good mate who'd left Lady Lassar's at Christmas. Her email from yesterday was brief and to the point. She had driven down from London and left something for us in the strictly out of bounds Old Boat House by the school lake. She described it as a School Leaver's Party Pack. I could guess exactly what it contained.

Charlotte's eyes gleamed. “Tomorrow's Saturday. Track suits and trainers like we're running. Through the Beech Wood and over the fence. Job done.” She clapped her hands together and punched the air.

ooOOoo

On Saturday we slipped carefully through the Beech Wood like a pair of criminals. It was hot and quiet and nothing much moved except us.

The Old Boat House salon faced south across the lake so early afternoon sunlight poured through the open veranda doors. The windows on either side were bolted and shuttered. The floor was polished, bare boards. There were piles of old sails rolled up in one corner.

Beneath these Hannah had stashed a flat cardboard box. The note inside was as brief as her email. Addressed to Darlings Charlotte and Vesna she told us she guessed it was Saturday afternoon and we should enjoy. The box contained a bottle of eight year old Cabernet, a corkscrew and glasses. There were two tins of caviar, water biscuits, hand made chocolates, napkins and cutlery. Enclosed also were two thongs in flimsy black silk. Party costumes, wrote Hannah.

Ten minutes later we were laid out on layers of old sails, almost naked and soaking up the sun. The wine was delicious, the caviar Heavenly and the chocolates out of this world.

“Red wine and chocolate make me incredibly horny,” sighed Charlotte.

“Everything makes you incredibly horny,” I said. But I knew exactly what she meant and closed my eyes.

And this was how we were when Garvin caught us red handed.

We were so busted.

Doctor Richard Garvin taught art for three days a week at Lady Lassar. His subject was water colour, and his students - who did not include us - were specially selected girls with so called talent.

And here he was, out of nowhere and, to our horror, sat six feet away from us, smiling like a wolf smiles at two lambs.

“Well now,” he said pleasantly, “Isn't this a nice surprise. And such a lovely day for it.” His voice was husky, the accent pure East London streets.

We stared, open-mouthed and in total shock. Then together we made a grab for something to cover our bare tits.

He still spoke softly but there was an edge to his voice that froze us. “Please stay as you are,” he said politely, “For the camera.” Again we gaped in stomach churning fright. The click-clicking of the smart phone in his hand sounded like hooves of the Devil treading on dry bones.

“The eye catching Ms Cordle, in her sporty auto, was impossible to miss,” he said, “It wasn't hard to guess where she was going.” he shrugged apologetically, “I'm afraid I read her note to you and, well, here we are.”

At that moment I truly believed we were utterly fucked. Miss Glanville, our virginal headmistress from hottest Hell, would take one look at the pictures and sack us instantly. She would expel us without mercy, like she'd crush an irritating bug. Our university places would be history and if our parents didn't kill us immediately they'd have us living in a cardboard box for the rest of our lives.

He didn't have to spell out the trouble we were in because we already knew. But he told us anyway, just to rub it in. The Old Boat House was forbidden territory. We knew that. And drinking alcohol was a hanging offence. We knew that also. And topless sunbathing was not only unladylike, it was totally unthinkable for the inmates of the Lady Lassar Academy for Girls.

I watched him as he spoke. He was younger than my father; tall, wiry, dark, blue eyed and unshaven. His hair was artistically long and tousled, and I decided he had the look of a pirate who knew how to plunder. Rumours flew that there were more damp, sticky classroom seats than dry ones at the end of his lectures.

We stared at each other in silence. We were a hair's breadth from imminent disaster yet I felt strangely curious. The wine was talking, I knew that. Apart from just a wisp of a thong each, we were stark naked and, although I say it myself, we had bodies that would stop traffic. I wondered if this registered with the good Doctor Garvin.

I decided on the direct approach. “Are you going to report us?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” he said casually, like he was thinking of something else. He squinted up at the sun and undid the top two buttons of his shirt as though the warmth was uncomfortable.

There was another silence. “Please don't,” Charlotte said quietly. It was then I knew how this would end. My stomach knotted with anticipation.

“And why should I not?” he asked.

There was another silence. I knew what Charlotte was going to say almost before she did. “Couldn't we persuade you not to,” she said, with no expression in her voice.

“I have no idea,” he said smoothly, “Could you?”

Suddenly I knew we both felt the charisma that left his student's classroom chairs moist and sticky with girl lust. He had a casual, offhand indifference to the power he had over us, and that was not only fatally attractive, it was cool as fuck.

“Could we, erm?” I said to him, looking at Charlotte.

“Confer is the word you're looking for,” he said, “Of course.” He strolled out into the hallway.

I looked into Charlotte's eyes. The pupils were dilated and aroused. She had that slutty look about her that I liked.

“I think,” I whispered slowly, “We have a filthy biker situation without the leathers and the Harleys.”

“I think you're absolutely right,” she whispered back.

“And,” she added, “He's going to have me first.”

I smiled to myself and said nothing.

Doctor Garvin appeared at the doorway. He wore black boxer shorts and nothing else. His body was tanned, fit and slim. Across his stomach and chest was the most beautiful tattoo of a red and gold Chinese dragon. In one hand he held short, nylon straps attached to wrist cuffs. I felt my chest tighten.

He closed the veranda doors and knelt between us. No one said a word in the half light of the salon.

He didn't hesitate. I watched his hand between Charlotte's thighs. The backs of his fingers brushed against her panties. She lifted her arms over her head, pulling her shoulders back, accentuating her breasts like she didn't know what she was doing.

That didn't take long, I thought. I wasn't surprised.

He gave me a strap. “Would you please cuff Ms Borthwick's wrists together, over her head, to that chair leg,” he said. Charlotte didn't look at me as I did what I was told.

Her nipples were big and hard as hazelnuts. Her eyelids drooped and she breathed quickly through that full, sulky, open mouth. I knew that look. I could see just a hint of her pussy under the tightness of the material between her legs. When she could, Charlotte always went Brazilian.

“You like that?” he asked her quietly.

“Absolutely not,” she breathed, her half closed eyes teasing and glittering and her hips lifting, not able to stop themselves. Of course she fucking liked it. And so did I.

His fingers were just inside her panties. I knew they'd found her pussy. I heard her gasp. I watched her twist and arch her back. It turned me on. And I suddenly wanted him inside my panties as well. I wanted him to tell me he was going to fuck me. I wanted to scream that he was making me cum.

“You won't like this either,” he murmured, his fingers moving under the silk.

“No I don't,” Charlotte whispered, spreading her thighs wide, her hips moving and lifting.

I watched his hand slide right inside her panties. “You won't want me to fuck you, then,” he said. Her head tilted back and she moaned like a slut.

He turned to me and without a word strapped my wrists behind my back.

His eyes stared into mine. My heart crashed against my ribs and I felt like a mouse hypnotised by a snake. To my surprise I liked to be helpless and vulnerable, to have my arms pinned behind my back. And I liked knowing he could do whatever he liked with me. I wondered what his tongue would taste like in my mouth, what it would feel like on my tits and between my legs.

He held his hand up in front of his face so I could see the fingers wet and glistening with Charlotte's juices.

Slowly and deliberately he licked his fingers, pushing his tongue between them and never taking his eyes off my face.

“I love the taste of well educated and pampered cunt,” he said.

I felt his hand touch the inside of my thigh, slowly moving higher. My helplessness was exciting me and it seemed to suck all the air from my lungs.

He pushed his slippery fingers between my lips. “Taste the eager Ms Borthwick's delightful cunt juices,” he said.

I sucked his fingers and smelled Charlotte's muskiness, and my head spun. Then he touched me and I was soaking wet. I squirmed and I moaned.

His eyes told he he knew I was oozing heat and wetness. I couldn't stop myself; I panted for him to touch me again, finger me deeply.

“You're just a whore who likes to watch, aren't you?” he murmured. There was a hot, wet tongue in my ear and clever fingers in my panties, not quite touching me.

I moaned and nodded. Gentle, maddening fingers brushed my clit and I twisted and shivered with delight.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered. His thumb was on my clit, fingers just inside me, all wet and slippery.

I jerked and rolled my hips onto his hand. His fingers were deeper inside me, making my head whirl.

“Fuck her. Fuck her 'til she screams,” I whispered, “Then come fuck me. Anywhere you like. And hard as you can.” I couldn't catch my breath. “And tell me I'm the filthiest slut you ever fucked,” I panted.

“Ah,” he purred, “Let's see.” Then he was sucking his slippery fingers again. Fingers all dripping wet and glistening with my juices and excitement.

“Oh my,” he said, “The honey sweet stuff from a cosseted cunt.”

Then he said, “In a while I'm going to eat that cunt of yours. Then I'll tongue your delightful arsehole.” He chuckled, “You'll think you're in Heaven.”

I panted and squirmed like a submissive bitch.

“But first, I'm going to pleasure the horny Ms Borthwick right out of her dirty little mind,” he said. “In case you're curious, I can go all night and cum by the cupful.

He bent over Charlotte, all tied down and waiting for him. “I always like this bit,” he said. He eased the elastic around her hips down, inch by inch. Her breasts shimmied and shook as she moved. The nipples were huge, erect and aroused. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she arched herself up to him, closing her thighs for a moment to make it easy. Her panties hit the floor with a damp, moist thud.

Then she was spread wide open, naked and ready for him. The lips of her shaven pussy swollen out and glistening like flower petals after rain.

“I hope you're paying attention, Ms Collingwood,” he said to me. He cupped Charlotte's buttocks with both hands, lifting her arse high.

I watched his head dip between her thighs and I felt a hot flush of blood burn my face. I stared at the tongue snaking out of his mouth, teasing along the hard ridge of her clit. It was amazingly long and muscular, tapering to a fine point which seemed to have a mind of it's own. Charlotte squealed and thrashed her head from side to side. Excitement trickled between my thighs. In a while, he'd promised, that tongue would send me to Heaven.

He caught my eye. “I really enjoy this bit as well,” he murmured. He spread her buttocks wide and that tongue flickered against her pinky brown arsehole.

Charlotte shuddered like she'd been plugged into 240 volts. The tongue searched deeper and deeper, all shiny with saliva. His thumb slid into her pussy. His middle finger moved over her clit. He made a rippling, growling noise in the back of his throat and I stared, completely transfixed.

He got her to cum quickly, like a crazy thing. She screamed a high pitched, frenzied crescendo of ecstasy that seemed to last for minutes. And that tongue still worked in and out of her arsehole. Her hips bucked and gyrated like a stripper. And she squealed for him to never ever stop.

Then he was kneeling between her thighs and his sleek, rod like cock nudged into the folds of her pussy.

“Sweat for me bitch,” he rasped, “Come on bitch, sweat.” Charlotte moaned and writhed. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling the wetness and thinking about making myself cum.

“Feel that, bitch,” he hissed, “You're not finished yet, no way.” I watched the tip of his cock slip inside her. “Do you?” he growled, his hips moving, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my God,” she sobbed.

“Tell me about my cock,” he growled, “Nailing that hot little cunt.” He rocked his hips harder. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Her wrists still strapped over her head.

“I love it in my cunt,” she sobbed, “Your cock filling up my cunt, you're making me crazy.”

He drove it into her like I prayed he would. Like I prayed for him to drive it deep into me. I watched the tight, compact globes of his arse rippling and snapping forwards and back and in and out like a machine that couldn't be stopped. I imagined my hands running over his skin, loving the texture and the muscles that bunched and worked beneath it. I imagined raking my nails into him, urging him on, spurring him to go faster like I did with my horses at home.

I watched his cock, skewering into her, impaling her, fucking into her brain as well as her body. He was enslaving her; intoxicating her so she could think of nothing but the shrieking delight of every thrust. I ached for his hands and mouth on my body. I imagined him straddling me, mounting me like a stallion, snorting and grunting, using and abusing me. Fucking me. I didn't care that I wanted him to whisper in my ear that I was a way better fuck than Charlotte. That I was the dirtiest, cunting little fuck slut he'd ever had.

I knew he'd make her cum again in no time and I wasn't disappointed.

“Don'stop,” she moaned, “Please don't stop.” She writhed under him like there wasn't a single bone in her body.

“Now I'm cumming,” she yelled, “Now … God … yes, ah God yes.”

He slammed into her faster and faster, making her shriek until I was sure he was killing her.

“Don't stop, don't. I'm still … I'm gonna ...” She gave low, unearthly moans like she was overwhelmed by frantic passions way too powerful to control.

Then she came again, screaming and bucking and shuddering. Her eyes were tight shut and her mouth wide open. Tendrils of dark hair were plastered across her face. That perfect, olive skin was slick with shining sweat.

He wasn't finished with her. His hand moved in a blur along the shaft of his cock. With a long, shivering groan that seemed to wrench itself from his very toes he started to cum. I wanted that groan to last forever. I watched gobs of pearly cum splatter over her thighs and onto her belly. It glistened between her tits and over her face and into her hair. It smelled wonderful.

He sat astride her, scooping and massaging cum around her nipples and over her tits. He rubbed it across her shoulders and into her throat. He combed his fingers through her hair until it was slicked down and glossy and wet. She reeked of cum and sex and him, and I wanted that self same stink all over me.

He shifted on top of her, rubbing his arse and cock against her tits until I heard the slap and slither of wetness.

Then he squatted over her face and told her, “Suck it all off me, bitch,” and she did.

I watched her take his balls in her mouth, her tongue wriggling over them like a randy, pink worm. She licked his cock clean from base to tip. His hips started to move again. Then her face burrowed between the cheeks of his arse and he snapped his head back in delight. I knew what she was doing and my stomach clenched to a knot. I wanted to see her tongue in his arsehole, digging deep like he did to her. Like he was going to do to me.

“You dirty little bitch,” he half chuckled and half growled. Charlotte moaned and jerked her head faster and I saw her tongue working and probing into him. Soon that would be me.

In a flurry of arms and legs he freed her wrists and had her face down, one hand working his cum into the crack between her arse cheeks.

“Now I'm gonna cum in your tight, pretty little arsehole,” he snarled.

Charlotte moaned, “Oh my God.” The pinky brown bud of her arsehole gripped the tip of his cock.

“Oooh God,” she groaned, “Aaah Chri –” I watched the tip disappear into her. He growled and pushed in another inch.

Then she surprised me. “I'm done,” she wailed, “ I can't, I'm finished.”

He didn't hesitate. He pulled out of her and clamped the cheeks of her arse together with both hands, his cock sandwiched in between them.

“Play dead,” he rasped and crack fucked her until his breathing grew harsh and rapid and I saw cum gush up from between her buttocks. I thought about what he said: he could cum cupfuls all night long. He'd better be right, I thought.

oooOoo

He undid my wrists and moaned into my mouth. His teeth clashed against mine and his breath smelled of fresh ground pepper, sex and juicy, horny Charlotte. I moaned back at him. His tongue wrestled with mine. He licked my teeth and the roof of my mouth and the insides of my cheeks. No one had ever kissed me like that before.

I glanced at Charlotte. She lay face down, her head turned towards us. Matted hair stuck to her cheeks. She was fast asleep.

Pity, I thought.

“Do what you said,” I breathed, “Send me to Heaven.”

He laughed and spun me so my face was so close to his cock I could see the veins. “Lick me first,” he said, “Suck me slowly and softly.”

He tasted salty. I really wanted to get the tip between my lips and use my tongue so I didn't wait to be told. He tangled fingers in my hair and groaned softly. I loved the sound he made. I took more of him in my mouth and he groaned again. I didn't think he could excite more than I already was. But he did. I felt powerful and sexy and, well, wonderfully dirty.

“There, right there,” he hissed, twisting his hips and groaning. I rolled my head and moved it faster, wanting to hear the noises he made when he jizzed over Charlotte's face and tits and into her hair. I wanted him to groan and growl just for me. I wanted to blow his mind. I wanted to be the best fuck he'd ever had.

I got to work. I was soft as a feather and very gentle. I was a tease, and a very good one too. I went faster, then slower and then faster again. He moaned and wriggled his body. I took him as deep as I could and his fingers clutched into my hair.

“Now show me,” he murmured, pushing my head between his legs. I burrowed my face into him and raked his arse cheeks with my nails, digging in my fingers and tugging the cheeks apart. Then I sucked and probed and licked his arsehole with my tongue.

“You clever little tart,” he groaned, “You filthy, dirty little slut.”

That's what I wanted to hear. I flickered and fluttered my tongue into him and rubbed my thumb around the head of his cock. He moaned like he knew it turned me on.

“Don't you dare stop,” he hissed. I dug deeper and worked my fingers quicker along his cock shaft. He moaned again like a randy bull.

And when he gasped, “Oh, ah God, God,” I knew I had him. He was all mine. I flushed with sudden triumph. I sucked and I slithered and moved my head in chaotic circles and moaned deep in my throat.

Then I slid my middle finger smoothly into his arsehole, as far as it would go.

He exploded with a shuddering violence that shocked and thrilled me. I moaned like a creature in torment as spurt after spurt of hot cum jetted into my mouth and down my throat and over my face. I gulped and swallowed and I purred like a cat with a bucket of cream. I couldn't get enough.

He broke away and tipped me onto my back. Those pirate's eyes glittering with a hunger that melted my soul. Again he shocked and thrilled me, this time with the soft, knowing wickedness of his promised tongue between my thighs.

He was maddeningly gentle with me at first. His tongue brushed and caressed my clit and my arsehole as lightly as his eyelashes might have fluttered against my cheek. I groaned and stretched out, squirming like a bitch dog in the midday sun.

Little by little he teased me into wanting more and more of him and I loved him doing it. Of course I did. I strained myself up to him, gyrating my hips, reaching for him, desperate to clutch his hair with my finges and pull him closer.

He pinned my wrists to the floor. Then, with a deliberate and backbreaking slowness, he slid his tongue right into my arsehole.

It was way, way better than Heaven. Oh my dear God, was it ever.

I sobbed with lust. It dug deeper and I squealed, my whole body shivered with convulsions. His thumb slipped into my pussy and his fingers found my clit. The hugest, hottest, most liquid of orgasms was a split second away from exploding inside me.

“I'm there, I'm... ” I hissed.

“No you're not,” he said.

The tongue disappeared and so did his fingers. I flapped and wriggled like a hooked fish out of water and flopping on a river bank.

“Make me cum,” I sobbed.

“Ask nicely,” he murmured.

“Please make me cum.” I was beyond frantic, “Please.”

Suddenly inside me, his cock was a shaft of pure, backbreaking bliss. I was back on the brink. A finger wormed deep into my arsehole.

It tipped me right over the edge.

I came in a flash. I screamed and I came with the chaotic force of a derailing train. An ocean of unbearable sweetness crashed through me, flooding into every part of me with indescribable delight. The most Heavenly death seemed to wash all over me and I didn't care one little bit.

Any girl who says she can't remember how many orgasms she had with a man, didn't have the sort of orgasms Doctor Garvin gave me. The third time he made me cum – and it was most definitely number three – he put his mouth to my ear.

“You, Ms Collingwood, are the most gloriousjy filthy fuck,” he said softly, “And truly, deeply beautiful as well.”

Just for those whispered words alone, I would have given him the world and everything in it. Then my stomach clenched and I wondered what he'd think if he knew I wanted him inside me again.

He knew. Of course he did; men like him always know.

He flipped me over and smacked my arse, not hard, but hard enough to make me squeak.

“Now you're going to be a very bad girl,” he said.

"I am?” I murmured.

“Oh yes,” he said, pulling my legs apart.

I pushed back at him when I felt the tip of his cock in my arsehole. He tangled fingers in my hair and pulled my head back. He kissed my neck.

“Be a beautiful slut for me,” he whispered in my ear.

“Fuck my arse, why don't you?” I breathed.

He laughed and slipped deeper into me. I moaned and pushed back against him again.

“You gonna cum in my arse?” I panted, “That is, if you can.”

He laughed again, breathlessly this time. Then he gave me every inch of his cock into my arsehole.

I moaned long and hard, like a slut.

A thought flashed into my head and was instantly gone. Charlotte couldn't take this. I made noises of lust in the back of my throat.

“Go on,” I gasped, “Go on.” I writhed against him. He groaned, his hands gripped my hips.

“Am I tight enough for you?” I whispered. He grunted like my black stallion did at home when I tickled him with the whip. His grip tightened, his belly thwacked against my arse. He was slow at first, then faster and faster. Now he was panting. I reached behind him and cupped his balls. His whole body stiffened like I'd stabbed him.

He made that noise again, deep down, like he was being strangled. I trembled with lust.

“Aah God, aah,” He squirmed against me like a randy snake.

I had him again. The thrill of it all made me fight for breath. His body convulsed and each time it did I felt hot spurts of cum deep inside me

He roared and he snarled and he gasped. It was all for me, and all about me. I milked him dry. And just as I thought I'd drained him of every last drop, his fingers slid into my pussy and found my G spot.

This was my fourth orgasm in a row, and arguably, it was the best. It took him all of twenty seconds. This time the deep, pulsing ecstasy wrapped itself like long, delicious fingers around my pelvis and my hips and my spine. It seemed to ripple so very sweetly right through the core of my soul.

I screamed and I thrashed and I convulsed. I told him I'd be his foot slave forever. He could hate me, chain me, beat me and starve me. And I'd still want him to cum in my mouth and up my arse. And I'd still adore slipping my tongue into his arsehole and have him fuck my brains out. And still his thick, hot cum rolled down the insides of my thighs. It pooled between my arse cheeks and oozed over my back.

After we were done, he kissed me softly between my shoulder blades. “Enough, already,” I mumbled and remembered nothing else.

I dreamed of swimming with the swans that lived on the lake. When I woke up, Charlotte was sprawled on a ramshackle chair in the corner of the salon. The soles of her bare feet were filthy and her track suit was streaked with dust. The empty wine bottle dangled from one hand, and in the other she held a sheet of paper.

“Ah,” she grinned, “The Lady Lassar slut queen awakes.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Gone,” she said.

“Shame,” I replied. My heart turned over just a little.

She gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “But I have news,” she said, “Brace yourself.” She flapped the sheet of paper at me. I saw the official Lady Lassar Academy coat of arms at the top.

“He left this for us so listen up,” she said, and I did.

“Dated 7th July; over a week ago.” She glanced up at me. “Dear Dr Garvin,” she read, “Following your appearance today before our Board of Governors, I confirm your immediate dismissal from the Lady Lassar Academy.”

I looked at her open mouthed and she smiled. “There's more but it's only blurb,” she said.

I listened to her with my head in an uproar. If Dr Garvin tried to enter school grounds, Security would throw him out. Any attempted contact with Miss Glanville, her staff or pupils would result in the withholding of his final salary cheque and references. The letter was signed, Tabitha B. Glanville, Headmistress.

“We've been conned,” I said.

“Haven't we just,” smiled Charlotte, “Won't be needing those horny bikers though.”

“Ooh, I'm not sure about that,” I said.

We stared at each other before cackling like demented witches.