7 comments/ 172035 views/ 10 favorites Cathy's Mistake Ch. 01 By: InsatiaBull My story started last July when I had just finished my finals at the local College of Education. I'm 22, tall and slim, gym four times a week and I'm often told that I'm a very pretty brunette: I took the decision a while ago not to have casual boyfriends due to one or two unfortunate relationships and I had resolved to take care of my physical needs myself. I live with my parents in an upper-middle class suburb and that morning, my mother knocked and opened my bedroom door to tell me that she was off to town, asking if I wouldn't mind looking out for the photographer from the estate agents at around eleven o'clock as we were looking to sell the house in favour of something larger. This being nine fifteen, I waited impatiently a few minutes until I heard the click and clunk of front door closing and jumped out of bed in my T-shirt and sleep shorts. Impatience played a role because I'd been waiting for days to indulge my new toy and I didn't often get the opportunity living with my parents, what with the risk of being caught and not being able to make any tell-tale noises, but now was the perfect opportunity: an empty house and, I calculated, a good hour and three quarters before the estate agent called around. I went straight to my wardrobe and, rummaging amongst the neat pile of sweaters, I pulled out my butt-plug, the new toy which I'd purchased on-line and a small jar of Vaseline. As I pulled my T-shirt over my head and peeled down my shorts, I could already feel myself tingling with anticipation, particularly as it was a lovely summer's day and the gentle breeze flowed in through the window of my warm room and out by the open door. This, I thought, was going to be bliss! Taking the butt-plug, I dipped the tip into the Vaseline and rubbed it all over with eager fingers. I must say, buying on-line has its drawbacks: it really seemed far too big for a slim, athletic young girl like me, even though, when it was in, it made me feel very nicely opened up which was quite sexy. Anyway, I made a mental note to buy something a little smaller. I got up onto all fours on the bed and, kneeling, I opened my legs wide so I could reach back and gently work it up my bum. I bit my lip as I remembered from last time just how big and uncomfortable it was at the start, but having persevered for what seemed like ages, eventually I'd managed to work the whole thing in, right up to the hilt so that just the base was showing. I wriggled somewhat delicately and it made me feel very vulnerable but kind of nice at the same time. That done and naked as the day I was born, I next flipped over onto my back and, spread my toned but slender thighs as wide as was still comfortable. Feeling how moist I had become, I teased myself with my fingers for quite a while: in and out, up and down and all around, allowing myself to tickle and strum my soon-aching clitty just very occasionally as my lathers worked up and my heartbeat increased. I was getting very, very wet and, safe in my solitude, began to moan quite loudly as the cool breeze drifting across my warm skin gave me goose-bumps. Then I reached for my brand new, out-of-the-box, wiggly wabbit. I'd fantasised about seeing how it would feel to have, simultaneously, the plug up my bottom, the wabbit's big, knobbly shaft in my pussy and the wabbit's clitty-stimulator buzzing around on my itching bud. Gagging for it by now, I pretty much guzzled the shaft into my eager, dripping snatch and somewhat shakily varied the stimulator control. I certainly wasn't disappointed as I squealed with delight at the sensations coursing through me. The butt-plug felt like it was splitting me asunder, and the vibrator immediately hit sync with my throbbing clitty so hectically that my lithe body started convulsing, with me riding and thrusting as hard and as high as my hips would allow, and as I clenched my bum cheeks, the butt-plug reminded me it was there. The force of my climax was so great that I went dizzy and light-headed as I shuddered to a seemingly interminable orgasm, bucking so hard that I thought I might injure myself. Thrashing around helplessly, I found myself moaning, panting and calling out in what was, without doubt, the best sex of any form I had ever had. I lay back with an enormous sigh of satisfaction as I recovered. I was right, it was bliss. As my pulse rate returned to near normal, breasts heaving, through the peace that had descended upon me, I felt sure I heard a click. "Ahem." A click and a cough. Opening my eyes, I saw to my horror that there was a tall, young man standing in the corner of the room. "Wh...What?" "What am I doing here?" He offered. I nodded, panic-stricken, grabbing at the damned duvet which had evidently caught on something and didn't seem to want to partake in my efforts to cover myself up. "Your mum let me in as she went out. I'm from Edwards and Edwards, the agents. Bit late for that, isn't it?" He added as he motioned towards me desperately trying to hide my nakedness. "But you weren't due until..." "...eleven o'clock? Had a cancellation. Lucky, really. Or should I say, 'really lucky'," he grinned. By this time, I'd succeeded in drawing up the duvet. He was very tall and about two or three years older than I was. I recognised him as Terry Fisher's older brother. Terry was in the fifth form at the local school where I'd been doing some teacher training. I'd seen him lounging around town with a group of local lads who invariably embarrassed me with their graphic comments whenever I happened to walk past them. "You're Mickey. How..." "Hmm. Your mickey, I'd say miss," he quipped, clearly enjoying his impromptu survey of the area south of my carefully-trimmed landing strip. "How long have I been watching you? All the time darlin', since you got out of bed and stripped off your shorts and T-shirt. Dear, oh dear: you really should be more careful -should have closed the door at least, I'd have though, miss? Anyway, couldn't believe my luck -caught the whole show on this little baby..." "...you filmed me?" "Yep, 'fraid so, darlin' -all in glorious high definition on the company camcorder complete with anti-shake and zoom. Wanna see?" I could see my image on the pop-up screen as he clicked the play button and could hear my voice over the playback. Whipping out the wabbit and diving out of the bed all in one movement, I ran across the room at him. I drew up pretty quickly as the butt-plug reminded me of its presence and tall for a girl, though I am, I was no match for Mickey who kept me at arm's length by placing his hand on my forehead whilst at the same time holding the camera out of my reach. "Now, now," he said, he said grinning at me. "Not very nice language for a lady, is it?" He remarked as some of my ecstasy-related swearing poured out of the speaker. "Choice, that is, darlin'." "Give me that, I yelled." "Calm down, miss, I wouldn't think you'd want to attract attention." I stopped in my tracks. He was right. There I was, naked in front of him, with no realistic chance of reaching the camera with a huge butt-plug up my bum. Imagine if someone had come in to investigate. Not a good place to be. I withdrew. "That's better," he said. "Please give me the DVD." I tried a different approach, trying to appeal to what sense of chivalry he may have. "All in good time, I'll have to have a think about that." "What do you mean?" "Well. I mean a gorgeous babe like you on film doing what you've just been doing would be worth a fortune in the right hands: to you, the internet, my little brother and his friends at the school, my mates at the pub, for example..." "...you wouldn't!" "Wouldn't I? I don't know. As I said, I'll have to think about it." "I beg you, please..." "Well, that's a good start..." "...no." "Come on, now, do as you're told or the film gets released." My heart sank. "Stand over there with your hands on your head and your legs apart." I shuffled reluctantly across the room. "What do you want me to do?" I asked, fearing the worst and full-frontally naked at the mercy of this scruff. "Well, aren't you a bit uncomfortable with that huge butt-plug rammed up your pretty little arse? Why don't you reach behind yourself and pull it out." I did as I was told, gripped the base, and eased it out. I held it in my hand. "Now lick it clean." "Oh! No..." "Uh- uh, darlin'. Are you quite sure you don't want to? Remember the DVD." Humiliated and with no choice as did as I was told. "That's a good girl. Keep going." I continued until he told me to stop. "Okay, now turn away from me." Again, I did as I was bade. "Mm-mmm! Me and my mates always remark what a gorgeous arse you've got. If only they could see me now, eh, love?" I could feel myself blushing from head to toe. "Now reach for the sky, arch your back and get up on your toes so I can get a really good look." He was treating me like a piece of meat. "That's it, now open your legs and really stick it out." I did. "Gorgeous," he enthused, insisting that I didn't look back. "Er... you're not filming this are you?" I ventured. "What? Me, miss? Oh, no, miss," he sneered. He sounded closer. And I realised just how close when I felt and heard a resounding slap across my bottom which made me yelp from a combination of shock and the sudden sting. I spun round, rubbing my smarting bottom. "How dare you!" "No, miss. How dare you turn around without being instructed to." I turned my eyes downwards, beaten again. "On your knees." "Oh, please, no..." "Listen, you just don't get it do you, darlin'," he said. "If you don't do as I say, I will publish this little DVD high, wide and handsome. So for once and for all, do as you're told, you silly girl." I nodded meekly and dropped to my knees. He walked towards me and stopped right in front of my face. "Now unzip me." Knowing what was probably coming, I reluctantly gripped the bras zipper on his jeans and drew it down. "And the button." I wrestled and released it. "Now pull down my jeans and pants." I edged them side-to side down his slim hips and, inevitably, his erect penis sprang out almost into my face. "Kiss the end." I looked plaintively up at him, hoping for a reprieve but none came. Mortified, I kissed. "Lick it slowly, the whole length from my balls to the tip." Horrified, I licked, as he wrapped my hair around his hand and pulled my head into him. "Now take it in your mouth." I parted my lips and placed my mouth over his shaft. "Come on. Blow me, you horny bitch." He was gasping now and his penis was twitching. I had an idea that if I worked fast, the quicker my ordeal would be over, so I expertly gave him what he was asking for. After a couple of minutes of me sucking and licking and him gripping my head and thrusting into my mouth, frequently making me gag, and all the while saying the crudest things to me, he suddenly pulled it out of my mouth. "Now, wank me off over your tits." He was bright red and obviously highly aroused. I didn't argue. Relieved though I was to have his smelly erect penis away from my mouth and tongue, I didn't much relish the prospect of him depositing his sperm over my pert 35Bs. Anyway, I thought, best to just get it over with as I gripped his shaft in my right hand and masturbated it vigorously as if I was shaking a tomato sauce bottle. Within a minute, he clenched his tight buttocks. "Oargh!" He made a deep, rasping, carnal groan and before I knew what was happening, my breasts were covered in his thick, gooey cream which was dripping off and trickling all the way down my stomach to the well of my body. "Euch!" I cried, standing up at last but he pressed back down on my shoulder. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" "Well, you've finished, haven't you?" I replied. "Maybe I have, but you haven't. Lick me clean." Resigned to my fate, I started to clean-up the salty mess with my tongue. "Every last drop." When he decided he was finally finished, he simply pulled up his pants. "I'll be off now," he said. "Give me your number and I'll be in touch." "But the DVD!" "We can negotiate that the next time, darlin'." "Next time? But you promised..." "No I didn't and this is way too much fun. What's your number?" "But..." "...your number!" "07889 543211," I murmured. "Thanks, I'll save it under "Sex Slave." And with that, he simply walked out, leaving menaced, dishevelled and saturated with his sperm. I heard the door clunk-click one more and simply wondered what on earth would happen next. Cathy's Mistake Ch. 02 The stress and suspense I endured for the days following my unfortunate encounter with Mickey Fisher, culminating with him walking out of the house with a DVD of me masturbating and, as I suspected, posing nude for him on tip-toes with my bare bottom pushed out, was unbearable. I'd racked my brains trying to think of an escape from my predicament but to no avail. Mickey had me cornered, where he wanted me, and there wasn't a blind thing I could do about it nor even anybone I could ask for advice for fear of my most private activities being exposed, in his words, "high wide and handsome". The only positive event that gave me some respite that miserable week was learning that my application for employment at the local high school had been successful and that I was to start there teaching gym, dance, drama and English at the beginning of the new academic year in September which was only a couple of weeks away now. My first career job and first income would normally have been a time for celebration but Mickey having that damned DVD had put an insurmountable damper on everything. Finally, the stress became unbearable and, taking courage in both hands, I plucked up the courage to contact him via the estate agent where he worked. "Edwards and Edwards, good morning," came the sunny response from the receptionist. "Could I speak to Mickey Fisher please?" "Oh, I'm afraid Mr Fisher is at a client's, could I give him a message?" "Yes, please tell him to call Cathy Matthews... er, he has my number." "Certainly, I'll tell him when he comes in." During the intervening hours, I mooched around the house, trying to read a novel, unable to concentrate until, towards lunch-time, my phone finally rang. "Cathy Matthews," I answered. "Hello, darlin'," he replied, cheerily. "What can I do for you, today?" "Listen, Mickey," I hissed so as not to be overheard, "you know damned well why I phoned you. This has gone far enough and I want that DVD." "Certainly, miss." "You agree, then?" I asked incredulously but hugely relieved. "Sure, no problem." "Good," I said. Mickey was vaguely attractive in a rough kind of way so I was glad that common sense and decency had apparently prevailed. "When will you bring it around?" "Ah, I'll get back to you with that, miss. I'm flat out at the moment so I'll ring you again when I have a gap," he pondered. "Give me twenty minutes." "Alright," I replied, somewhat surprised but very grateful that retrieving the DVD had been so easy. I waited, on edge, for fully half hour, poring over the phone and praying that he didn't change his mind. My mother, who looked and behaved like my blonde sister rather than a parent, walked past. "Waiting by the telephone, eh? --New boyfriend?" She asked, hopefully, as she seemed disappointed that I didn't bring a steady flow of the male sex through her front door. "No, definitely not," I answered, curtly. "Now don't bite my head off..." But before she could go any further, my phoned beeped to announce the arrival of a text message. It wasn't a number I recognised so I guessed it was Mickey's mobile. "... okay, sorry mum," I snapped. "You'll have to excuse me for a moment," and I went to my room to read the message. "For the DVD, be at my place, 10 Wordsworth Avenue, this afternoon at 3:30." Result! He'd kept his side of the bargain, restored my faith in human nature and I allowed myself a satisfied, audible sigh of relief. Also, the timing was perfect for me as I had a hair appointment at two and could call in to pick it up on my way home. It was very a warm and sunny afternoon, so I donned my powder-blue flared mini dress with a pair of white shoes and, save for a white, lacy thong, that was about all. I eyed myself in the mirror and was pleased with the result --contrasting the golden brown tan I had lazily been building up in the garden over the summer holiday. Raymond worked his usual magic on my shoulder-length hair and I flounced out of the salon immaculately groomed, feeling and looking a million dollars and skipped into my car to drive the short distance to the seedy council estate and then the run-down semi that was the Fishers' residence. I parked outside the rusty front gate and negotiated a gang of urchins who wolf-whistled and made crude comments as I made my way to the gate. Closing the gate behind me, I walked briskly up the path to a chorus of little brats remarking about my breasts, bottom and what they'd like to do to me --needless to say, not exactly in those terms. Feeling my colour rising, I remember thinking how advanced kids are for their age, these days. Before I could get to the front door, the Fishers' drooling bull terrier pounced seemingly from nowhere and took great delight in jumping up my leg and under my skirt, sniffing embarrassingly. As hard as I tried to push him down, this solid ball of muscle pushed back harder and I simply did not have the strength to bring him under control. I lurched to the doorbell and rang it with an outstretched arm to an urchin chorus of "Oooh-ooh! White knickers!" as my skirt rode right up to my waist because the damned hound had entangled me, shoving his cold, moist nose all over my thighs, leaving horrible, gooey tracks on my lovely tan. Mercifully, the door opened, Mickey answered and seeing the dog, who had apparently decided that the foreplay was over and was now gripping my leg like a vice with its front paws, shouted sternly at it. "Pricky!" Well, the name was apt, at least. "Er, come in, miss," he said as the dog skulked awayed whence it had come looking thoroughly disappointed to have been interrupted. And in we went. If the garden was strewn with litter, and broken machinery, then the Fishers' house was a positive health hazard, I observed, picking my way through the beer cans and discarded food packaging. "After you, miss. Don't worry, there's no-one else in," he ushered me into the front room, and gave me an inappropriate little pat on the bottom as I entered. "You look stunning today, darlin'." I paid scant notice to his unwanted attentions. "Thanks, I've just had my hair done," I humoured him with the sole objective of securing the DVD. "Nice place," I enthused, falsely. "Shit-hole," he said. "Now to business." "Yes," I offered, "the DVD please." "Well, not quite that easy, darlin'," he said. "But we had a deal," I said, somewhat bewildered. "We still do, darlin', but there's a condition attached." I didn't like the way this was going. "C-condition?" I stammered. "For sure! You didn't think I was just going to hand it back to you for nothing, did you? I thought I told you it would be worth big money." I had that sinking feeling again but had to stay cool and friendly to have any chance of securing the disc that I so desperately wanted. He was now standing in front of me playing with a strand of my hair as if I was his property. "You want money? I could..." "... Not money, miss. There are other ways." "Please say what you mean, Mickey." I said, tired of these double entendres. "Áh, miss. All, as they say, shall be revealed." And with that, he took my hand and half led, half dragged me through the passage and out of the back door behind him. "Put this on," he instructed, grabbing a crash helmet from the kitchen porch as I noticed his motorcycle outside. "I'm not going on that thing," I said, horrified. "You'll do exactly as you're told," he hissed, menacingly. "But, I'm hardly dressed for..." "...Get on!" He said impatiently, then he started his machine, revved up and I tentatively took the pillion seat, clinging on to the grab rail for grim death. My head was flung back with the acceleration and my confounded skirt blew upwards in the wind exposing far more than I'd like of my rear view to the cars we passed as a thousand cc's throbbed smoothly between my thighs. We rode out of town for a few miles until we pulled in at what I recognised as The Hideout, a notorious bikers' pub with a fierce reputation at which no respectable girl would be seen dead. Ordered to get off and dragged once more by the hand by Mickey, my grooming and powder blue and white outfit looked hopelessly out of place. As indeed did good hair and teeth... "Now you go along with everything I say, darlin'," hissed Mickey, "or your precious DVD hits the streets before you can blink those pretty, doe-like, big brown eyes of yours." We approached a table full of scruffy, greasy bikers who evidently knew Mickey. "Hey Mickey, that's quite a number! Who've you brought this time?" Said the leader of the group, who looked like a cross between Meatloaf and Mike Tyson. "This is Cathy," he answered. "What do you think?" "Well, I'd say you've outdone yourself," said the leader, eyeing me up and down appreciatively, "absolutely fucking gorgeous -classy too! -Nice of her to dress up for us." I blushed and looked down to avoid the leers of the dozen or so bikers seated around the table as their leader spoke. "What say you we have a drink missy, before you start?" He continued. "Start? Start what?" "Your show." This was not good. I turned to Mickey, demanding an explanation. "What the hell is he talking about?" "Feisty, too!" Roared the leader. "We like that." Mickey grabbed my hand, taking me to one side. "Just excuse us for a second." Away from the table, he whispered firmly. "Now listen, darlin'," he continued. "If you want that tape, you'd better provide the afternoon's entertainment for my mates. Believe me, it's a lot better than having that DVD released onto the internet, particularly as our Terry tells me you have a new job to consider at his school." "Entertainment?" I asked, fearing the worst. "A full-on striptease for my friends, inside the bar -private-like. They're paying me a tenner a head for your services, so you'd better keep them sweet" I felt the colour drain from my cheeks. "You can't be serious, you wouldn't dare," I hissed back at him. "Listen, miss," he said firmly, "it's up to you if you want to try me, but I wouldn't. Your career would be ruined before you start, not to mention the explaining you and your parents would have to do. Just one little dance with no record of it and your troubles are over." Until then, I hadn't even considered the disgrace the disc may have brought to mummy and daddy. The atmosphere was electric during that pause as my indignant glare locked with his impudent gaze but finally looked down submissively in defeat. I knew then that he was serious in his threat. "Now can I tell my friends that you are going to dance for them?" "One dance and I get that DVD back?" "Just one dance. You teach dance, don't you? -So it shouldn't be too difficult. Now come and be sociable and have that drink you were offered and relax a little. They may look a bit rough but they're just pussycats, really." Grasping my hand once more, he took me back to the table. I glanced from one to the other, greasy hair here, an eye patch there, leathers, studs and riding boots everywhere, a feint smell in the air mixed with alcohol... Pussycats, most definitely not. A pint of lager, foaming furiously, appeared through the crowd and was banged down on the table in front of me spilling part of the contents. "Drink," commanded the leader. Under protestation but aware of the consequences of upsetting Mickey, I drank as deeply from it as I could as the biker gang roared its approval as well as a growing chant of "get 'em off" amongst other observations as I was undressed by a dozen pairs of hungry, appreciative eyes. "Right," said Mickey, "let's get you into the bar and get this show on the road." And he dragged me off once again, promising to call them in when the show was about to start. The stage, which faced the packed bar, was makeshift and full of dust and grime. To my consternation it was surrounded by around thirty more bikers who had grabbed the tables nearest the stage. Inevitably, there were raucous cheers as they caught their first glimpse of me being ushered in by Mickey for their entertainment like a lamb to the slaughter. "This is it, darlin'," there's your stage, the music goes on in a minute, do your best, and don't forget that disc. I'll go and collect the others, when the music starts, make your way to the stage and do your thing." My thing? I thought, hardly. My stomach was a bag of nerves and I was mortified by the prospect of 'entertaining' this low-life scum but I knew I had no choice. The disc, the internet, my new job, my family. Meatloaf and the boys loomed large as they came in from the beer garden, cutting much of the natural sunlight from the doorway as the music struck up with a bass that rattled every glass in the bar. There was nothing for it but to edge my way through the crowd to the filthy stage. As I did so, I was man-handled, groped and grabbed more often than a fur coat in a winter sale. Having finally made it to the stage, I stood at the front. One thing I could definitely do was dance so, I thought, if I danced nicely for them, perhaps it would distract them and possibly, I could sneak away without revealing too much. However, after five minutes of bump and grind, which was initially well received, and during which time some pretty crude, though appreciative cat-calls were yelled about my figure and form, the rabble began to grow impatient and it became evident that it would not be enough to satisfy them. "Cut the crap and take it off, you bitch!" Shouted one of their number who seemed to have the knack of making himself heard clearly over the pounding music and the rest of the gang bayed in agreement. "We didn't pay a tenner for this shit!" The roar grew and they wanted more. I caught sight of Mickey near the door who simply held up the disc to encourage me. I needed no further bidding and would have to go through with it. Swaying my hips seductively, trembling, I undid the bow of my cloth tie-belt and began to slowly, reluctantly undo the front of my dress which buttoned along its full length. Quite suddenly, I felt unusually dizzy, warm and quite euphoric and I remember wondering at the time whether something had been slipped into that drink --I can usually take at least a few glasses of wine before it affects me seriously, so I couldn't understand why a single beer should do this to me and it was getting progressively and rapidly worse. "Hurry the fuck up," came the new call, as I felt my inhibitions ebb away from me. I had unbuttoned as far my navel by this time and hesitated as I reached this point of no return: nxt button I undid would put my breasts on full view and start to expose my panties. Boos and jeers rang around the bar as I froze but they were soon stifled as, completely uninvited, the leader and one of his gang sprang onto the stage. I tried to push them away as they snatched at my dress but was becoming increasing giddy and less resistant. The powerful leader grabbed me from behind and simply ripped open my dress with one smooth, powerful action, the buttons pinging and flying all over the bar. I had little time to dwell upon the fact that my classic, designer outfit was ruined -the least of my worries as I stood before the mob with my dress wide open and my breasts exposed with only my flimsy thong providing any modesty. The roar from the crowd was deafening as the second biker grabbed the waist-band of my panties. I tried in vain to stop him but the leader gripped my arms and held them firmly at my side. My squeals of objection seemed only to encourage the second biker and after jokingly gaining approval for what he was about to do from the rabble, he simply yanked the flimsy waistband and wrenched the ripped G-string away from my body to give everyone in the bar an uninterrupted view of my perfectly manicured pussy. Meanwhile, whatever it was in the drink had now taken a serious hold and I lost balance, ending up on all fours on the stage. The front row of bikers, getting in on the act, hurled their beers all over me, the sticky mess ruining my freshly done hair and combining with the filth on the floor to leave me filthy dirty and matted, scrambling on the ground. I heard a clunk and, glancing upwards through my hazed eyes, I could make out the leader and his friend removing their boots and jeans enthusiastically. I wanted to try to make a run for the door but by limbs were like lead and my sense of co-ordination and balance had gone completely. The situation was as out of control as myself as I seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. I can dimly recall the leader and his companion fondling and kneading my breasts, my own hands being clamped around hard flesh and uninvited horny fingers being pushed deep into me as well as a few stinging slaps on my exposed bottom to rapturous applause and cheers. There seemed to be quite a few more than two of these thugs on the stage by the time I could focus no more and mercifully passed out amid the cacophony and mayhem, the last sketchy image I recall was of the leader pinning my helpless arms to the dusty floorboards, while his foul friend was rubbing his stinking member into my face. I felt hard thrusting into my helpless, tingling body, though I could not swear to this and suppose I could have been hallucinating. I could feel a rocking which seemed to go on forever and a smile crossed my lips as I sank into a deep sleep. "Miss, miss," I came to groggily in a strange, spinning room. Panic-stricken, I looked up at Mickey. "Where..." "...my place, darlin'," he said. "You passed out so I got you a lift home from the pub." With some trepidation, I lifted the covers to see my open, buttonless, tattered dress and my panties thankfully on but inside out. "I must go," I said and shakily made my way to my feet. My shoes must have been lost along the way and I made to leave somewhat unsteadily. "Aren't you forgetting something, miss?" I looked at him quizzically. "This!" And he handed me the disc as nausea and headache overcame me. "Thanks," I managed. "That's the one you asked for," he grinned. "But of course I have a couple of copies." "Copies?" "See you next time, miss," said my tormentor, "I'll be in touch." "You bastard," I replied, just wanting to get home and with no energy to argue with him. As I walked down the path to my car, the urchins were there again. "Oooh-ooh! Look at her tits!" As my dress hung open, torn and tattered upon my grimy, sticky skin. All I wanted to do was to get home and bath. "Oh, Shut up!" I turned, irritated, on them, and got into my car. "Oooh-ooh!" They replied.