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Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 01

By: H_Bateman



* After reading Fifty Shades of Grey, my partner expressed her disappointment at how it, her first erotic novel, was so tame. I offered to write her something a little better. She enjoyed it and I hope you do too. Comments are very welcome. 

*

Lucy was a naughty little girl. Deep down she knew this; her fevered dreams of domination, of consensual abuse proved as much and, despite her naive efforts to repress her lust she knew she couldn't deny this aspect of her person and that it was only a matter of time before she had to submit to those growing urges; to unlock and give scandalous assent to her subversive fantasies. And so it came to be, one summer morning that brought heat to repressed longing, that Little Lucy would forever, but quite willingly, lose her sweet innocence.

She had been born and lived eighteen years in the small and quaint village of 'Boring' where the silence was broken only by the bell of the postman's bike, the clatter of empty milk bottles and, on a day like this, the distant 'clok' of a cricket ball on a bat accompanied by mild applause, an audible metaphor for English restraint and etiquette. It was calm, it was tranquil, but behind the pleasantries and the smiles and the first-name terms of all the residents was there happiness? Or contentment? Not for Little Lucy. And not for Richard.

He had not been born there but had settled, seeking a calming of the nerves, a sense of place. But just like the girl he was about to meet, his own mind and dream narratives would never allow him to be content until they were satisfied.

And yet, for all their similarities, there were contrasts between this girl and this lonely man. She had lived her full eighteen years in that bubble of naivety and, although a young woman, was inexperienced in the ways of that world beyond the borders she had never crossed. She still dressed in a youthfully innocent fashion, seemingly unaware of the effects her fulsome figure may have if regarded by those from outside that secluded community, their minds more open to physical possibilities. He had travelled extensively, had lived and worked in more urban places that would make Caligula blush. Indeed, it had been the daily confrontation with unadultered depravity that had driven him to that sleepy village. Although, if you had asked him, he would say otherwise, he knew, deep down, that he couldn't deny his own urges and temptations; his mind had been opened to a world considered sinful, he could never regain the innocence he had lost.

That scandalous morning, as the tempting heat of the summer sun streamed through both their bedroom windows, they had woken, washed and dressed, unaware of the footsteps of destiny guiding them to the crossroads. He, despite the heat, in his customary black three-piece suit and red tie; she in a blue dress not unlike Lewis Carroll's Alice: long, over-the-knee white socks with black bows at their tops; the delicate white lace of her petticoats affording a glimpse of her smooth, white thighs. He applied gel to his dark hair and combed it into his preferred style; ordered and tidy. She brushed her long hair so that the dark strands cascaded over her shoulders, a black bowed hair band on her crown.

His ablutions over, Richard slipped on polished black shoes and left his house for a Sunday walk. Lucy, however, still needed to apply her black eyeliner, her blood red lipstick and pull on her black, high-heeled shoes. And so it was that he was present at the fateful, secluded spot before her.

A picture of innocence, a symbol of temptation, she was ready. Despite the sun, she decided that her grandmother's house needed brightening, it needed flowers, and she knew just the spot to the find the best and most colourful.

Near the village there was a forest in which was a meadow; secret and undisturbed, and, basket under crooked arm, Lucy left the house and strolled through the village to meet the dirt track which would lead her to her destiny. It was close enough to walk to but long enough away for her to be totally alone... or so she thought. 

The sun beat down on her, tanning her bare arms, and she was glad she'd had the forethought to bring a bottle of water in her basket. She paused on the dry dirt track and took a greedy glug of water as the weak breeze stirred the pine trees about her. A little trickle of water ran from her overflowing mouth and made a lazy trail down, over her chin, her neck, and into the fulsome cleavage at her chest. As the cool fluid caressed her breast she felt an electric thrill tingle her nipples encased in the cotton of her dress. Her mind went instantly to that forbidden place and her thighs warmed with moist desire. She considered, for the briefest of moments, acting on the sensation but, despite her secret longing, Little Lucy wanted so much to be a good girl like all the others that she, as usual, repressed the urge and, after a deep breath and an exhale like an exorcism, continued her stroll towards her destination.

After twenty minutes of walking though the forest, she emerged into a sunlit meadow of blue flowers. It was a welcome relief from the stifling humidity of the trees and sweat had begun to flow from her, leaving a dull sheen on her bare skin. She'd had to stop several times to drink from her bottle and it now lay three-quarters empty in the basket. She didn't like the forest very much; there was a formless intimidation in its shadowed confines, a sense of a hidden gaze, and the open space of the meadow before her was a release from that feeling which was simultaneously fearful and exciting. She stepped between the flowers and began to select the best for her basket.

She was humming as she worked and it was this sweet yet mournful tune which stirred Richard from where he lay asleep beneath a tree at the edge of the glade. Opening his eyes, she spied amongst the fragrant flowers a vision of beauty so perfectly attuned to his particular fancy that he thought initially that he must still be dreaming. For here, about thirty feet in front of him, was a girl shining with innocent sweat, dressed in blue and perfect white, bending for flowers, and each time she did so he could espy, through the sheer lace of her petticoats, the white cotton of panties which surely contained a bud of such loveliness that his tongue tingled as before a feast of delicacies.

He could not move, he dared not, lest he shatter this vision of fragile beauty and forever be lost from that which he had waited his whole life to find.

In the end it was her who brought about his transition from voyeur to participant. Her senses primed by her lonesome walk through the forest she felt the downy hairs on her arms prickle and, glancing up, discerned his dark shadow amongst the shade. At first she was uncomfortable with the sudden knowledge of company, not least because the desire of before had not abated, but, having grown up in a village where everyone was on first-name terms and a stranger was to be welcomed rather than feared, she approached that dark spot under the trees.

As she stepped into the edge of the shade, she stopped and regarded him for the first time. Was this not the new man in the village? A recent addition to the company of inhibitors but one who kept himself to himself? Lucy had to admit that her regard of him stirred that desperate longing between her thighs. He was dressed in such solemn black, such ordered formality that, before he even spoke, she was struck by an excited fearfulness.

"Good morning," he said, and his voice was of a rich culture and warmness that she felt immediately and irrevocably infatuated.

"Hi," she smiled back, unaware of how she was nervously pressing the toe of her right shoe into the soft grass, or of how this accentuated his desire for this fragile little thing he had discovered.

"And what is your name?" he asked.

"Lucy," she replied with a coquettish smile and his own infatuation was complete.

"I'm Richard," he told her, and she smiled that nervous beatific smile once more.

There was a silence that passed self-consciously as they regarded each other, their unspoken desire electricity in the air. A bird sang far off on a branch as Richard struggled to think of something to say to maintain this relationship before it slipped through his fingers. As for Lucy, she also feared an ending and she could feel that all the water she had drunk earlier was having inevitable consequences.

"Collecting flowers, eh?" he asked and she knew she had to stay.

"Oh yes, this is the best spot for them. I didn't know anyone else knew about this spot." And she stepped closer, into the shade where he sat with hungry eyes.

"Well, I like to get away from it all sometimes, the village isn't always peaceful enough for me," he told her as he regarded her long legs with their white socks.

"I'm just the same... but aren't you hot?" she asked.

"I was just thinking the same thing," he smiled and shrugged off his black jacket. She giggled, and he felt a painful stirring in his trousers.

"However," he continued, "I think it's important for people to dress appropriately."

"Surely your suit isn't appropriate for this heat?"

"But it is important for people to get the right impression of me. These things count, you know."

"Mysterious and handsome, I see," she flashed him her teeth through a desirous smile. "And what do you make of me then?"

His breath caught as she twirled, the hem of her skirt spinning out, revealing her white panties and the curve of her backside.

"Perfection..." he let slip a moment later and she stopped twirling. They gazed at each other for another moment and he felt like he was drowning in her eyes... willingly.

She felt a pain in her bladder; she so desperately needed to go and now there was no chance to she felt the excited craving for release grow all the more insistent. Her knees involuntary moved together and Richard was overcome by the lustful urge to pull them apart but he mastered himself. The time was not yet ripe.

"Why don't you sit down?" He gestured to the space next to him.

Her mind was in turmoil; she knew that she had to leave, to find some other secluded spot and pee because she'd never make it back to the village in time, but she couldn't bring herself to leave this man, a symbol of all she had repressed for so long. With sweat on her brow, she assented and slid herself down next to him, placing her basket on the grass nearby.

"Do you have water?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Would you like some? Help yourself."

He levered himself up and retrieved the bottle. She watched him as he greedily drank from it and couldn't stop her eyes straying to his crotch. Was that a bulge she could discern? She felt yet another thrill as she realised her power over him. This only served to remind her of her urgent need to pee however and she placed her hands in her lap in a vain attempt to control herself.

"Are you alright?" His voice snapped her back to reality. She looked up and he was standing over her.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" she gazed up at him, her eyes round and wide with feigned innocence.

"You've fidgeted a lot since you sat down," he told her and then, as if in apology, "I notice these things."

"Well... I..." She stumbled over the words, stumbled over all the inhibitions and repressions that had come to be symbolised in this one moment: she sat below her fantasy with a dreadful need to escape.

He knelt down and placed his hand on her left knee and his smooth fingers caressed the skin, sending shivers up her legs.

"Hey, it's okay," he cooed, overcome by a warm burning in his chest, "Can I help?"

"No... I... Well, I just need to... you know- go."

"Oh," he looked crestfallen, "I'm sorry."

She giggled despite herself but stopped when she felt the flood hit the dam.

"No, silly! I mean 'go'. As in..."

"Oh!" He brightened again and it was if the sun shone out the brighter.

"I can't get back home in time," she looked at him and her voice lowered, "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go either, Lucy."

She looked over her shoulder and regarded the forest. She began to get up.

"Maybe over there... wait a minute-"

"No," he grabbed her arm and she was a little afraid at the strength in those fingers.

"What?" she gasped.

He released his grip and gently, almost imperceptibly, stroked with his finger tips the spot where he had held her.

"Well..." He'd started, he had to finish, and despite his reasons for moving to that village, he couldn't deny how he really felt, not now with her before him. "I just think that it's about time that we all started shrugging off some of these inhibitions of ours. I mean, we could be good friends, yes?"

She nodded eagerly.

"And best friends have to share things, right? Well... why not share everything from the start?"

She frowned in thought.

"You mean," she began, "you want me to go here... with you?"

"I... yes."

He closed his eyes as before a fall. There, it was done. He had met the girl of his dreams, a beautiful thing of fragility and innocence clad in the pristine angelic white of perfection, and he had confessed his deepest desire- the need to break down those barriers of restriction and censorship and denial and experience with her a moment of connection so unadulterated, so pure and personal that she should surely now run for the hills. Richard wasn't sure that he couldn't stop himself pursuing her. 

In the end, he didn't need to.

"Okay."

Two syllables but they rode a tidal wave of emotion and passion.

He opened his eyes and regarded this pretty little girl, her mischievous smile enough to break his heart.

"Okay?" He had to be sure.

"Yes. You're right. I want to lose my inhibitions. I feel like such a prisoner sometimes. I want to wake up one morning and not deny who I really am."

And she stood up over him and gazed down with nervous eyes. Her hands were shaking as she took hold of the hem of her blue skirt and petticoats. And then, with an agonising slowness and her lower lip held between her teeth, she raised her skirt up over her thighs to reveal her white panties. Richard breathed in deeply as he could suddenly detect a sweet scent in the air before him. Her eyes closed and her inner thighs worked together and she strove to overcome the automatic inhibitors trained into her from childhood. He held his breath and felt like he was on the edge of a precipice as he waited for his darkest fantasy to enact itself before him.

And then, with a moan, Little Lucy began to wet her little white panties.

It started as tiny dark patch on the front of her underwear but quickly spread as the cotton became saturated with the nectar flowing from her pussy. Richard's cock began to positively hurt as he watched the liquid run down from her panties and over her smooth thighs. Her socks too became stained with her innocent piss and her shoes shone dully in the light as it trickled over them to the grass beneath.

She let out a sighing laugh and gave herself over entirely to the feeling of release, not only from the need to pee but also, on a deeper level, the inhibitions that had ruled her life. She smiled widely as the second wave rolled over her and, hooking her fingers into where her panties covered her labia, she pulled them aside to reveal her shaved, pink pussy.

A stream of piss jetted out of her and onto Richard's lap. He gasped but did not move, not wanting the pleasure to end or be interrupted. Lucy was lost on an ocean of personal pleasure and the sound of her flowing water was all that filled the fragrant air. Her thighs shone with her own piss and her socks were saturated.

At last, as all things must, it was over and the last few drops of pee fell from her fingers to the grass. She exhaled deeply and felt reborn. 

"Thank you," she breathed.

Her eyes opened and she looked down at her saviour. A moment of deep understanding passed between them. And then Richard could no longer help himself.

He lunged forward and gripped the backs of her thighs, thrusting his face into her crotch. She gasped and allowed herself to fall back onto the soft ground behind. He pushed his mouth hard into her wet panties and sucked at the damp cotton to drink down her pee.

She placed her wet right hand in his hair as he licked at her and she realised that now all those deep, dark dreams would come true. She was scared but that only added to her excitement as this mysterious and powerful man devoured her in the most subversive way.

He licked at the inside of her thighs, the piss on them wetting his cheeks. Then he hooked his fingers into the top of her panties and tugged. She knew instinctively what he meant and lifted her pelvis to allow him to continue as he saw fit. He wrenched her underwear from her legs and placed it in his trouser pocket before returning to regard her pussy before his mouth. He paused, examining the pink entrance to her soul, a slit of skin, and she closed her eyes once more, preparing herself.

Then she felt the soft warmness of his tongue probing at her pussy tentatively, teasing her with the point. It ran from her pussy hole up its lips to the little pink bud of her clitoris where it paused and flicked a couple of times, sending electric shivers up her spine. She groaned and felt almost ready to orgasm before he had truly begun.

He widened his jaw and took more of her pussy into his mouth, forcing his tongue up into her and her grip on his hair tightened and she began to moan loudly, her thighs gripping his head. He began to growl as he greedily ate her pussy and she glanced down at him between her legs. His animalistic sounds only increased the force of the waves of pleasure which rocked her milky white body.

Her juices flowed into his mouth and his taste buds tingled with their sweet flavour. He gulped her down and his fingers dug into the skin of her thighs. He began to lap at her clit and Lucy, feeling the rush of sensation from her clit to the rest of her extremities, began to rock her hips up and down in anticipation of the first climax with this mysterious but sexy stranger.

"Oh... Oh.... OH, FUCK!" She screamed an expletive she'd never before even whispered but which was so appropriate for this moment, and several birds flew from branches in fear. She came hard and fast and she pulled his head with both hands into her cunt as the waves of electric pleasure ran through her body. Richard couldn't breathe as the soft flesh of her pussy enveloped his mouth and for a moment he contemplated suffocating in her skin, but his objectives were not yet complete.

He sat back and unzipped his damp trousers. Panting from her orgasm, Lucy levered herself up on her elbows and regarded him, her eyes finding his crotch and staring fixedly at the bulge in his wet shorts. She felt suddenly hungry for his cock; she could clearly see the size from the tent it had made out of his shorts and she greedily wanted it to fill her mouth. When he pulled open the front and loosed his cock she only took a moment to observe how hard and thick-veined she had made it become before she leapt forward to her hands and knees and hungrily slid it between her lips. So voracious was her desire to suck on that rock-hard member that she took it too far into her mouth; the end struck the back of her throat and she gagged. She coughed with his cock still in her mouth and her spit ran down the length.

This only increased Richard's pleasure in dominating the young woman between his legs and he clasped a hand round the back of her head and pulled, impaling her cute face onto his member. Her innocent eyes widened as her throat was violated and her throat convulsed, trying to reject the foreign body. She gagged deeply and the gurgling sound tightened his balls beneath her chin. She automatically placed her hands on his thighs and pushed, trying to escape. Just as she was about to throw up, he released her and she jerked back automatically, coughing spit onto his trousers. She gulped a deep breath, like someone saved from drowning, and realised how much she actually enjoyed her face being violated by his cock. Spitting the saliva that had pooled into her mouth over his cock, she knelt forward once more to suck.


Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 01



He was moaning now. His fantasies were being realised before him; a cute girl, her dress in disarray with piss-stained socks was greedily sucking his cock, her spit running down its length. 

She ran her fingers behind his back and into the tops of his trousers. She pulled and he allowed her to remove them and his shorts. She tossed them aside and, with her right hand holding his cock, began to lick and kiss his balls.

He was moaning and groaning loudly now and knew that he wouldn't be able to contain himself much longer. Reaching forward he grabbed her under the arms and pushed her back to lie on the grass. He clambered forward and planted his lips on hers; their first kiss. She moaned deeply as her saliva-covered mouth connected with his lips, his tongue slithering inside to caress her own. Then he placed his hands on her breasts and squeezed.

She felt another shiver run down to her clit as he buried his face in her cleavage, kissing and licking at the soft skin of her tits. He grabbed at her dress and tugged it open, along with the white bra beneath, to expose her pink nipples, hard and erect. He placed her right nipple in his mouth and sucked hard before sinking his teeth into the pink flesh. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sucked on her tits.

"Fuck me, please," she begged through panting breaths, "Take all my innocence away; I want to feel you inside me. Please."

He groaned at the sound of her soft voice and eased his pelvis between her legs, parting them and allowing access to her pussy for his engorged dick. 

He stopped sucking her tit and looked at her. Their eyes met and he placed his hand around her throat; she was held completely in his power as his cock edged closer to her pussy which ran with her juices. His fingers tightened round her neck and she felt her airway constrict and she liked it as she gazed into his eyes, expecting to be penetrated any second.

With a mutual moan they connected in the shadows under the tree in that secluded place where destiny had led them. His cock, like a sculpture of rock, parted her pussy lips and was driven deep into her wet cunt. He slid into her and they connected and felt whole for the first time in their lives.

She whimpered and wheezed for breath under his grip as he began to fuck her; to fuck the sweet, innocent girl he had discovered, to make her irrevocably his own, his passion, his lust, his love, his whore.

He started slowly but gained in speed and power, his hips rocking back and forth as he started slamming his dick into her. Each jolt sent shockwaves of erotic energy coursing through her body to her extremities and then back again to tingle on her clitoris. She felt lightheaded from the painful pleasure of his cock and the lack of air from his grip on her throat and she opened her mouth wide to take deep breaths and let out loud moans. She was shocked as she felt him spit in her mouth but this only increased her arousal to breaking point as she realised what a dirty whore she had become in the space of that one hour.

"Ah...fuck me, FUCK ME!" she screamed and his constant pounding cock brought her to another orgasm, more powerful than the last, leaving her limp and panting and sobbing with pleasure.

But Richard did not stop fucking her, could not stop, because he could feel the familiar tingle at the base of his balls, the tightening of the skin around his cock but multiplied by a thousand million times from all those nights alone with his imagination. Grunting like a wild beast, a werewolf of lust, he upped the power of his thrusts, fucking the limp doll beneath him, the spittle from his exertions running down his chin, the sweat from his skin dripping onto the stained cotton of her dress.

At last, with a roar that echoed into the trees around them, he withdrew his red cock and, releasing her throat, gripped it in his hand and shot thick streams of cum over her cute dress.

Her eyes widened further as she regarded the man over her masturbating his seed onto her body. It just kept coming! Ribbons and ribbons of his cum sprayed over her to cover her exposed breasts, her hands, her arms, even her hair and face. At last the stream of cum subsided and the last drips fell onto her pussy.

She sat up on her elbows and licked at her lips, tasting him around her mouth; salty and warm. She moaned and uncontrollably felt her fingers on her clit, the feeling of his cum arousing her once again despite its aching punishment.

Richard, panting, gazed down at her.

"You've made me dirty," she told him in an amorous breath.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself," he responded with a smile.

"I want to be washed clean. I want you to piss on me."

He frowned at how such a beautiful, seemingly sweet girl could be so dirty, so wrong... and yet so right, so perfect.

Without a word, he rose to his feet and took his now withering cock in his hand. She began to finger herself more vigorously as she regarded him above her, cock in hand, directed at her face.

"Come on, you dirty bastard, I want your piss on me. I want to be soaked by you."

He moaned loudly and a warm stream of pee shot forth from the end of his dick and splashed on her face. She widened her mouth as she frigged herself, catching the stream, letting it fill up the inside of her cheeks. Her tongue tingled with the warm, salty water and she let it overflow to run down to her cleavage and soak her dress. 

She began to groan again, her fingers rubbing her clit as he pissed over her face. He directed his cock at her tits and his piss splashed over her red nipples, before he continued to pee between her legs. The feeling was incredible as she felt his warm liquid on her cunt and felt her orgasm building once more.

With a last spurt of his piss over her face, drenching her hair, she came again, whimpering exhaustedly as the trilogy of pleasure was completed.

Spent and content, Richard fell to the ground next to her and there they lay, the warmth of the afternoon drying her sodden dress, her tits and pussy exposed to the fragrant air of the meadow. As she regained some control over her breathing she was overcome by tiredness. She sighed deeply and felt her body relax; the final release of so many years of tension and suppression, and there, under that spreading chestnut tree, her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep.

When Little Lucy awoke it was still daylight, but the sun was falling fast and her skin was prickled by gooseflesh as the cloudless sky brought an evening chill. She looked about her and panic gripped her soul as she realised that he was gone from her side. She sat up with a start and swung her head this way and that but she could see no sign of her saviour. Had it been a dream? She felt sadness rise up in her chest and her eyes pricked with tears. 

She stood and rearranged her dress, placing her breasts back within the confines of her bra. As she pulled her skirt down from around her waist she realised that her sore pussy was still exposed and a quick glance about her feet proved that her panties were no longer nearby.

She felt a jolt of joy to combat the sadness of before; it was true, it had happened! But then, where had he gone? Why had he left? She was confused, sad and a little scared. She sobbed once, but then overcame her loss. Now she knew he was real, that she hadn't imagined it, she resolved herself to discovering why. First, she needed to return home; her grandmother would be missing her and would be worried. 

Picking up her basket, her mind consumed by how she was going to explain her long absence, she began to walk back to the path that would lead her home. Lead her back to her life. Back to hated normality.

But would life ever be normal again?



Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 02



*Comments are, as always, welcome. 

*

By the time she got back home it was getting darker and Little Lucy prepared herself for the onslaught of questions her grandmother would undoubtedly fire at her. She had never been out so late before in her entire life and she knew such a transgression would be seen as suspicious in that curtain-twitching village. Before she stepped through the front door she once more rearranged her wrinkled dress and pulled her hair into what she hoped was some semblance of order. She opened the door and stepped inside, cautiously.

Inside, it was warm and comfortable as always and her aching legs begged for her soft bed. She tiptoed into the kitchen and laid the basket of flowers on the table before making her way to the stairs. As she placed a foot on the first step she heard her grandmother's voice come from the living room.

"And where have you been, young lady?"

The sternness she detected in her tone was clearly a cover for her concern.

Lucy called to her, "I'm ever so sorry, Grandma. I was out collecting you some flowers and, as it was so hot, I fell asleep under a tree. Before I knew it, I had slept right through."

"I was worried! Young ladies shouldn't be off in the woods on their own; I've told you this a thousand times!"

"I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief and made her way up to her room.

Once inside she regarded herself in the mirror on her dresser. A dishevelled mess of a girl looked back. Her makeup had smudged and run down her cheeks, her hair was knotted and in disarray, and her dress was still wet on the back from her earlier exploits. She undid the zip at the back of her dress and, in one fluid movement, pulled it off her body. One glance at her red vagina, sore from the punishment it had received earlier, reminded her of how aroused she still was by all that had happened. The memory of Richard above her, coming over her dress, was enough to make her lie down on her bed and finger herself again.

She spread her legs, still clad in their damp socks, and placed a finger on her clit. She brought herself to a quick orgasm and felt well and truly spent. As she lay there panting she thought back over how he had disappeared. It was so unfair that they had found one another and shared in their mutual fantasies only for them to lose each other again. Doubly so, when she considered that it was he who left for no discernible reason. She resolved to discover exactly why it was so and took herself off for a shower.

Days passed, the summer weeks bled away, and Lucy was no closer to the truth. She had discovered his house and had rung the bell but was devastated when there was no answer day after day. She began to get angry with him. How dare he reveal to her that world and then take it all away? Now that she had experienced such pleasure, she knew that she would never be satisfied with releasing it under the sheets at night. She needed him and she needed his cock. But faced with no response from him she had to give up in the end; his door never opened.

Then came the first day back at college. It was an old-fashioned institution, like everything else in that old-fashioned village, which demanded that all those who progressed to the sixth-form wear the same uniform they had been forced to wear throughout their childhood. There was no relaxing of rules for those seemingly old enough and mature enough to govern themselves. Lucy had not been looking forward to this but had dutifully got up bright and early and dressed in her uniform: short-sleeved white cotton shirt and tie, black pleated skirt, knee-high cotton socks and shiny black shoes. She plaited her hair into the traditional pigtails and grabbed her bag.

The temperature of the summer had begun to drop and the cold breeze gusted between her bare thighs as she walked the path to college. The routine of the college day would only help to drive home the hopeless normality she could no longer cope with.

First, Maths; second, Theatre Studies; boredom drilled itself into her brain. Breaktime gave no relief. Some of the other girls were talking about a new teacher but she ignored them; regular life seemed so dull now. She told no one of her experience that summer afternoon. For one thing she knew they'd never believe her and, also, the extent they had gone to may well repulse them anyway. But it didn't repulse her. For a short time she had felt complete and now her longing was never ending.

The bell rang and period three began. History. She shuffled into the classroom with the others, head down, despondent. Goodness knows why she had picked the subject, perhaps a desperate clutch for something academic, something that might get her away from the village when she came to choose any further education. And then she saw him. Richard was the new teacher, her new teacher. 

Her heart leapt into her throat and would remain there for an hour as she regarded the man who had taught her so much now teach History to her class. 

He met her eyes once but there didn't seem to be any recognition there, he just carried on as if nothing was amiss. She knew that her wide-eyed stare at him, dressed in the same suit he'd worn that summer day under the trees, would be obvious in its adoration but she couldn't help it. When she answered the register with a tremulous voice she was keenly aware of how nervous she felt. 

She glanced at the others as the lesson progressed but they didn't seem to notice her either; she was a ghost, trapped in a vacuum of excitement and confusion. She hoped that they wouldn't have to do any group work because she knew she'd never be able to focus on anything but this revelation.

The lesson ended. The others got up from the hard plastic seats and made their way out of the door but Lucy, intentionally packing her bag slowly, was left behind. Her nerves peaked as the door swung shut and she and her tormentor were left alone at last. She stepped over to him, packing his own things into his bag at his desk.

"Why won't you see me?" she asked and was surprised that her voice, which she had intended to sound defiant and interrogative, came out in a croak of nervous energy.

He stopped filling his bag and sighed. Then he looked up at her and properly regarded her for the first time that lesson. She could tell by the way his eyes widened almost imperceptibly that he felt attracted to her just as strongly as before. Without a conscious thought she began to play with one pigtail, running it between her finger tips, and biting her lip. It was partly nerves, partly a subconscious effort to overcome whatever it was that was restraining him from entering her once more. But the way he quickly knitted his eyebrows and glanced away from her told of his fight against his urges.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"Sorry?" The steel at last entered her voice, "How could you just leave after... after all we did together?"

He got up from his seat with another sigh and could not meet her eyes.

"It's just... you're so innocent. You... I don't want to be responsible for corrupting you. It's not right. Besides, I'm your teacher. Although I didn't know that at the time, it only strengthens my resolve."

"B...But... I don't want to be innocent. I want to be with you!"

"Shh..." he placated her, and even though it was a little patronising she couldn't deny that she felt soothed. There was a kindness and concern in that sound that spoke of the truth of his character even if he wanted to deny it. 

He placed his hands on her shoulders but kept his distance as though if she came any closer than arm's length he wouldn't be able to resist. 

"You have your whole life ahead of you and it's not for me to take that away. I won't lie and say that what we did doesn't mean anything but... it's wrong. I'm wrong. And I don't want to drag you down with me. I'm sorry; I just can't continue to take you away from everything that makes you so beautiful. And you are beautiful. So beautiful." 

He placed a warm hand on her cheek and the tears that had welled in her eyes spilled over and ran over his fingers.

"Now," he told her, "go to lunch and remember to do your homework for next lesson."

She left without a word, wiping at her eyes. The door swung shut behind her so fast that she didn't have time to see him tasting the saltiness of her tears.

She felt more despondent than ever for the rest of the afternoon. The drone of her teachers faded into a background grumble as her mind raced, thinking of all that had happened and all that she had lost. She respected what he had said and loved him for it but she knew that she would never be able to accept it; she had been opened to a new world and there was no going back despite what he said. And then, ten minutes before the end of the college day, she hit upon an idea.

The final bell rang, the others left the college grounds along with the majority of the teachers (it was the first day back after all) and Little Lucy took herself off to the girls' toilets. Closing herself in one of the cubicles she listened carefully. She'd never stayed behind at college before and it was unearthly to hear nothing where there was usually a constant hustle and bustle.

She sat herself down on the toilet seat but didn't remove her underwear. She knew that there was only one way to break down the barriers he'd erected around himself. She lifted her pleated skirt around her waist and looked down at her cotton panties. She exhaled a deep sigh and relaxed after all the tension of the day. 

A wet patch appeared on the front of her panties and quickly spread, the cotton becoming soaked with her pee. A stream of piss, filtered through the fabric, trickled out and into the toilet bowl to splash with a tinkling sound that echoed in the silence of the girls'. She felt her clit become warm as it always had done when she went to the toilet since that afternoon. She slipped a finger into the hem of her panties and touched herself gently as the stream of pee sprayed into the insides of them. Her mouth widened and a squeak sounded from her throat as her finger interrupted the stream and spread her waters onto the inside of her thighs.

Finally her pee trickled away and she was left, legs spread wide, sitting on the toilet seat, her panties and thighs wet. She didn't clean herself; that would defeat the point; she just got up, rearranged her skirt, flushed the toilet and left the cubicle. She looked at herself in the mirror and considered her reflection. To all intents and purposes she was a sweet, innocent girl, clad in the pristine white and black of her uniform. But through the thin cotton of her shirt it was possible to glimpse the deeper white of her bra and consider her ample breasts, and the water on her thighs, just visible beneath the length of her skirt, attested to how depraved this little girl truly was.

She left the girls' and made her way to Richard's classroom, the lubrication on her thighs increasing her excitement as her heels clicked down the corridor.

She knocked on his door and was relieved when she heard him call, "Enter," as it seemed like the college was abandoned. She stepped into his room and he swung round from his chair to regard her.

"Lucy..." he began but she shushed him and stepped up to his desk. She sat herself down on the edge and looked at him. This time she was confident. This time she was in control and she knew that she wouldn't lose him again.

"Thing is, SIR," she began, and exaggerated his title in her coquettish way, "I think that you need to make up for what you did to me. I was just a little girl, minding my own business, picking flowers, and you took me and corrupted me. And now I'm such a BAD little thing. I'm such a wicked little slut and maybe it's your responsibility to teach me a lesson." 

She lifted her skirt and revealed her wet panties.

"Look," she told him, "I've wet myself because I'm such a dirty little girl. You're the teacher. I think it's about time you taught me a lesson."

She smiled at him and she saw lust curl his lip. Then, in a flash, his face was buried in her panties and she felt his tongue licking at the sodden cotton. Her pussy immediately began to moisten and prepare itself for his onslaught. She giggled at her achievement. But then he withdrew his mouth and stood up.

"Turn over," his voice croaked and he cast the papers on his desk to the floor.

She obliged and lay herself face down across his teachers' desk.

"Pull up your skirt."

She took hold of the black pleated skirt and pulled it up over her backside. He opened a draw and from it withdrew a long, thin cane.

"You're right, perhaps I do need to correct my mistake," he said and her excitement reached new levels as she realised what he was about to do. Over the years her shame at her deep depravity had resulted in her thinking that perhaps she should be punished for thinking such things. Of course, it hadn't been long before this train of thought had developed into a fantasy as well.

She felt his fingers at the top of her panties and he tugged them down so they were around her knees. He brought the cane down on her backside and she let out a surprised yelp as the wood stung her cheeks. Her fingers gripped the far edge of the desk and she steeled herself for more.

"You are a dirty little girl," he told her, "Little girls who pee their panties should be taught how to properly behave."

The cane came swishing through the air again to land on the bare skin of her behind and she knew that red marks would be left as a physical memory of this punishment. This time she made no sound but bit her lip and let the painful pleasure course through her body.

Then he began to cane the college girl with increased rapidity and her body squirmed on his desk. Again and again the thin wooden weapon came down on her backside until her arse was criss-crossed with red lines and she began to yelp uncontrollably. Her pussy juices had begun to run down the inside of her thighs by this time and mingle with the pee that had begun to dry on her skin.

Then he paused and she was able to take a breath. She could hear him panting too at his exertions. Then she felt his hand on her sore bottom, caressing the marks he had left on her. She jumped a little when she felt his tongue at her backside, the warm softness of it licking at her pussy between her legs. She moaned softly at the intense pleasure of his tongue after the pain of before.

Then he progressed up from her pussy, licking her perineum and ending on her arsehole. She felt a wave of erotic feeling course straight to her clitoris, enhanced by a realisation of how wrong this really was: she, her uniform slowly being removed, bent over the teacher's desk, her panties round her knees, gripping the wooden edge; her teacher, clad in a formal three-piece suit licking her arsehole with relish, his hands gripping her thighs still wet with her piss. She felt the tip of his tongue edge its way into her arsehole and couldn't resist placing a hand between her legs, her fingers finding her clit and beginning to rub.

"Oh dear," he stopped licking and said, "It seems you haven't learnt anything."

He sat down in his chair and she automatically got down on her hands and knees before him.

"I think it's time for your oral exam."

She giggled and placed her hands on his crotch. She could feel how hard his cock was through the fabric of his trousers and eagerly unzipped his flies. Realising the opening was not enough to allow his engorged cock to be released she unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them, along with his black shorts, down over his thighs. She leant forward, her long pigtails falling into his lap, and greedily began to suck his cock. The length filled her mouth and felt at home and she began to regain that sense of completion that had slipped through her fingers those long weeks ago.

Richard put his head back and exhaled deeply as she sucked at him; clearly he felt the same. Her saliva began to run down the length of his cock as she sucked it, hard and fast. He fingers found his balls and rubbed, increasing his pleasure as they proceeded to indulge in their forbidden love.

He was moaning now and she placed a hand on his cock and moved her mouth downwards. She needed to prove how irrevocably corrupted she had become, how there was no point in trying to retain anything of what he thought she had once had. Time to give him some of the same treatment!

Stimulating his big cock with one hand, she began to lick at his arsehole. His moaning immediately took on a deeper, more animalistic note and his hands gripped her pigtails. He pulled her face into his backside and she hungrily licked him, pleased at how excited she had made him. She continued licking and masturbating him until it was apparent he could take no more.

He roughly grabbed her under the armpits and picked her up. He cast her onto his desk and she bumped her head on its hard surface, spreading her legs in anticipation. But she would have to wait just a little longer before he took what he could of her. His hands groped at her chest and squeezed her tits hard. She brought her hands up and pulled open her top, revealing her breasts held tight and firm in her cotton bra. Richard thrust his face into her cleavage, licking and kissing like he had done before on that hot summer day, one hand on her right knee, clasping it tightly in his palm. He pulled down one cup and sucked at her nipple, making grunting, snuffling noises as he did so.

Then, without warning, he flipped her over forcefully and her chest hit the tabletop, her breasts pressing down onto the cold wood. He placed his left hand on the back of her neck and held her down and she bit her thumb in expectation. He drew back his right hand and brought it down on her backside. She yelped in pain as he began to spank her over and over again, his palm stinging the skin of her arse.

Then he pulled her towards him so her feet found the floor behind her. He roughly spread her legs wide and slammed his cock into her cunt.

"OW!" she screamed as he began to roughly fuck her from behind over his desk.

With every thrust he grunted like a beast, and with every thrust she squealed, her clit being pounded over and over, an electric thrill coursing outwards from it and back again.

"I warned you little girl," he hissed at her as he fucked her roughly from behind, "I warned you to stay away or else I won't be able to stop myself."

"I don't want you to stop," she groaned, his constant pounding of her pussy so painful and yet so pleasurable, "I want you to fuck me forever!"

His hand found the back of her neck again, holding her down so she couldn't get away as he violated her. Not that she would ever want to escape; she was exactly where she wanted to be. She felt her knees might cripple beneath the onslaught of his cock.

"You're such a dirty little slut, what am I going to do with you?"

"Just fuck me, fuck me hard and forever!"

His cock felt so good, she could feel her orgasm rising and rising, the familiar tingle was rising from the bottom of her feet up through her body, and her moans became screams ending in a crescendo as she came.

Her pussy constricted round his cock and this brought on his own orgasm. She felt the heat of his cum shoot into her pussy, lining her insides with his precious spunk, then he withdrew his cock and shot the rest of his load over her backside, still red from all her earlier punishment. She felt his cum run over her arse cheeks and down her thighs and lay there panting, bent over his desk, her summer dreams complete and satisfied.

He sat back and found his chair, collapsing into it, his trousers round his ankles and his cock hanging limply between his thighs. For a while, only the sound of their mutual panting filled the air. Then she got up from the desk, her uniform in disarray and sat down on his knee. She put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.




Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 02



"I love you," she said, the coquettishness gone, the truth bared and naked and vulnerable in the confines of his room.

He looked at her, placed his right hand on the back of her head and kissed her deeply and softly. His tongue edged into her mouth and caressed her own. The kiss finished and he sat back again.

"I love you too, my Little Lucy."

"I won't ever let you go," she told him sincerely, "Don't ever leave me again. Promise."

"I promise," he smiled at her and kissed her again. "But we have to be careful. You know what this place is like, what the people would think. We'll only be able to be together at certain times... at least for now anyway."

"I don't care, as long as I know you love me and that I can be with you."

"Okay."

He got up and she stood back from him and watched as he pulled his trousers up and fastened them. She buttoned her shirt and pulled her still damp panties up to their proper position. His cum was pressed into her skin as she did so and she was surprised at how cold it had become in the meantime.

"You should be getting home," he told her and gripped her delicate hand in his own.

"Yes. But I can't bear to part with you. I want to see you."

"Lucy, you will see me every day. That I can promise."

He leant forward and kissed her deeply again. Then, with a hand on her backside, he directed her to the door and opened it.

"See you tomorrow," he said, kindly.

"Goodbye, sir," she responded cheekily, and left.

The door swung shut behind her and she grinned from ear to ear.



Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 03



Chapter Three

*There are no watersports in the following chapter. Comments are, as always, very welcome.



The days of the first week back at college passed and Lucy counted down the minutes between each and every lesson where she would be taught by the master of her desire. 

If anyone noticed her newly-found attention in History, the way she sat rigidly and focused on the object of her fantasies for the whole hour, they did not mention anything to her. They did not speak to each other, other than he calling her name and she responding with a dutiful and false innocent "Yes, sir", but from time-to-time their eyes would meet and she would covertly lick her lips and he would wink at her and she would be reassured of the understanding between them and the strength of his feeling.

But she was never particularly patient and come Friday afternoon she couldn't wait any longer. It was fourth period and she was due for the final lesson of the week with Mr. Porter (as he was known officially and with a knowing smile). Towards the end of lunchtime she made her way to his classroom and found it open but empty. She glanced up and down the corridor to check that no-one was watching and crept inside. She got down on her hands and knees and hid under his desk in the alcove where his legs would go. She had memorised his room and everything in it in order to make her nightly fantasies more realistic and three-dimensional and knew that no one would be able to see her in that space beneath his desk. She crossed her legs and sat down; the excitement at what she was doing causing a tingling in her panties.

She sat in silence for five minutes before the bell sounded beyond the door and members of his form began to come in and take their seats. She bit her lip and tried to control her breathing; if she was caught she didn't know how to explain her way out. This added to her excitement and arousal however and she became even more eager to do the deed she had decided upon.

At last she heard then saw his polished black shoes before her. His voice, sonorous and deep, was enough to make her almost orgasm as he addressed his form. He took the register and talked some admin with them, then, after ten minutes more had passed, he dismissed them and welcomed his next class. Her class.

They shuffled in, resentful at the excitement of the lunch hour being ended for what was to them the boredom and routine of yet another lesson.

They sat themselves down and Lucy regarded Mr. Porter's feet as he stood before his desk, waiting for quiet. He began the lesson and Lucy's impatience grew as he spoke to them for a good ten minutes more- would he ever sit down?

"Okay guys, we'll be doing our assessment on the Russian Revolution today so this will be under exam conditions; this is individual work and we'll be working 'till the end of the lesson. You are not allowed to talk or move about, understood?"

There were murmurs of acknowledgment.

"Okay then, I'll be doing some marking and I need silence for that too. I'll notice if there's any whispering. Off you go."

Finally he sat down in his seat and shuffled forward to place his legs under the desk. She placed a hand in his crotch and squeezed. She heard him grunt and then cough but he didn't pull away; he must have noticed her absence and put two-and-two together. She smiled and licked her lips before unzipping his flies. She slipped her fingers into his shorts and caressed his dick which immediately began to stir and harden. He cleared his throat and she heard papers shuffling above her head.

She gripped his now firm cock in her hand and pulled it from the confines of his trousers so that it stood proud and erect before her face in the shadows. She widened her mouth as if she was about to eat a particularly large lollypop and placed the tip of his cock between her lips. She heard him inhale sharply and repressed a giggle as she exulted in the naughtiness of the moment. She placed her left hand on his thigh and, keeping a tight grip on the base of his cock with her right, began to slowly suck, bobbing her head up and down on his shaft. Her pigtails danced in the air over his crotch and she felt the cold draft from under the door breeze between her legs as she crouched, exposing her panties.

She loved the taste and feeling of his cock in her mouth; she could feel his rapid pulse through it as she sucked up and down, the tip probing the back of her throat. She removed her hand from his thigh and slipped it into her panties, finding her pussy wet and ready. She began to frig her clitoris as she took his length in and out of her mouth, sometimes using her hand to masturbate it in front of her face. She was so turned on by the depravity of the act she was engaged in that she felt she might scream with pleasure.

She placed his cock back in her mouth and began a final effort to bring him to orgasm. She clamped her lips round his shaft and started a fast but steady rhythm. It was hard to finger herself and maintain a consistent rhythm at the same time so she postponed her own pleasure for now and focused on the object of her desires.

Up and down, up and down she bobbed her head until she felt a sudden tension in the man she was sucking and prepared herself for the deluge. Then, suddenly, his spunk shot to back of her throat and she gagged involuntarily, spluttering some his cum onto her chin. He grunted above her as the spray of semen kept flowing from the end of his cock in thick streams. Some landed on her shirt before she managed to get his cock back into her mouth and sucked at the hot salty spray, gulping it down with a thirst for his passion.

At last he finished and she licked the last drips of his spunk from the wilting cock before her face. She'd tasted him before but that was as nothing to the thick, warm love she swallowed down this time. She licked at her lips and scooped the drips from her shirt with her fingers to suck, not wanting to waste a single drop of his cum.

She heard him exhale deeply above her and someone asked, "You alright, sir?"

She smiled to herself as she heard him cough and respond, "I'm fine, just a cough. Get on with your work."

She carefully placed his cock back inside his trousers and zipped them up so that no one would know of their secret activities. She sat back against the corner of the alcove and widened her legs. She put her hand back into her panties and began to finger herself as she regarded the black suited legs before her. She bit down hard on her lip as she could feel her orgasm building and knew that any sound, now that suspicions were raised, would result in tragedy. She couldn't stop now, however, and quickly brought herself to a shuddering orgasm. She sat, trying to suppress her panting by breathing through her nose, for a good five minutes before she could move again; so intense was the feeling of coming when on the cliff-edge of discovery.

She took her hand from between her legs and found her fingers to be wet and crinkled with juice. She found herself curious and placed the warm fingers that had been in her cunt, in her mouth. The taste differed to his spunk; it was sweeter and tingled on her tongue like thin syrup. She drew her knees up to her breasts and waited for the bell that would signal the end of this lesson in lust.

It was not long before she heard it ring out and the room filled with the sound of paper shuffling and chairs scraping. One-by-one and sometimes two-by-two (they were eager to be gone from the silence as soon as possible) the class shuffled out the door until she and her teacher were left alone. She saw his feet approach but pre-empted anything he might say or do by crawling out from under the desk and getting to her feet. Her legs ached a little after the cramped confines but she didn't let it show as she stepped up and kissed him on the cheek with a giggle. Then she winked at him and rushed from the room, not looking back.

***

A fine drizzle had begun to fall by the time Lucy made her way home. The road and path ahead was deserted as she dawdled home; in no rush. She had no umbrella but she didn't mind; the week just passed had made her so happy she didn't mind her uniform getting a little wet. She couldn't wait for Monday to come back around. The weekend had always been something to look forward to but now it only meant that she would miss her love.

She knew this was all crazy; how on Earth could they proceed in this fashion? How long until they slipped up and the others worked it out? And then what? Elope together? However, right now on that drizzly afternoon, none of that mattered because she was truly happy for the first time in a long while.

She didn't hear the car pull up on the curb nearby but the door slamming brought her out of her reverie. She turned just in time to see Richard approach with a determined look on his features. She smiled but he didn't stop in front of her, he stepped straight up, took her by the shoulders and pushed her back into an alleyway next to the path. He roughly slammed her up against the brick wall of someone's garage and clasped her face, his fingers squeezing her cheeks.

"Wha-" she began but had no opportunity to finish as he began to roughly kiss her, his tongue licking voraciously at the inside of her mouth. 

She tried to reciprocate but he was moving too fast and roughly. As he thrust his hand between her legs and began to aggressively grope her pussy through her still damp panties, she resolved herself to the realisation that this encounter would be decidedly one-sided.

His hand shifted from her jaw to her throat, pinning her against the wet brick behind her back, and, taking the edge of her panties between the fingers of his other hand, he suddenly tugged, his great strength tearing the cotton so her underwear hung down by the waistband, leaving her opening exposed.

The grip at her throat held her firmly but was loose enough for her to breathe; despite his aggression she knew that he meant her no harm, only pleasure. She delighted in the constricted feeling at her neck, the sensation of being contained seemingly against her will; grinned as he quickly unzipped his trousers and exposed his erect cock before her. 

His hands slipped under her armpits and he lifted her. In one fluid movement she spread her thighs, legs bent, and wrapped them around his waist as he thrust his cock into her. He slammed her back into the brick wall and began to bounce her up and down, grunting as he penetrated her. 

She entwined her arms around his neck, her head on the soft right shoulder pad of his suit jacket as he fucked her. She revelled in the feeling of his thrusts, her pussy becoming sore but wetter each time she felt his cock slide up into her. His hands found her arse cheeks and he dug his fingernails into their skin, immediately leaving red marks.

His speed increased and she started making suppressed squeals as his cock slammed into her pussy over and over, building to a crescendo. 

Suddenly, he withdrew and dropped her to the ground. Her knees banged on the tarmac but she didn't care as her face came level with his engorged cock. Taking it in his hand, he pumped it a couple of times and his cum came shooting from the end, spraying her face. She instinctively closed her eyes and widened her mouth as that hot spray basted her cheeks and lips. Ribbons of spunk crisscrossed her face and shot into her mouth until her cheeks, forehead and chin were covered.

At last he exhaled a deep sigh and stepped back from the girl he had violated in that alleyway, quickly slipping his penis back into the black prison of his trousers. She kneeled before him, wiping the cum off her eyelids and sucking her fingers.

At last she said, "Well, that wasn't being very careful."

He sniffed and cleared his throat, "I couldn't help myself- rather worrying, I suppose."

He made to move back towards his car.

"Wait!" she pleaded and got to her feet. "I don't think I can manage two days without you. Without your cock."

He paused and slowly turned to face her. He appeared to be struggling with something in his mind but then he looked into her eyes and at her spunk covered face and made a decision.

"Do you think you could convince your parents to let you stay out tomorrow night?"

She let his misunderstanding at her family situation pass for now but quickly realised and noted that, in fact, they didn't really know much about each other at all.

"Yeah... maybe. Perhaps."

"If you can get away, for the full night mind, come to my house at six tomorrow evening."

A feeling of intense warmth spread through her chest at the prospect of a full night alone with her lover- just think what they could get up to!

"Okay," she grinned.

He couldn't resist her beatific face and stepped up. He kissed her deeply, his hand on the back of her head, and when he withdrew she noticed some of his spunk had ended up on his cheek. She felt a thrill of naughty excitement at the sight.

Without a word he made his way back to his car, got in, and sped off to the house she would soon visit. For she would visit, she would find a way, and she couldn't wait to pass that threshold and enter into his home and find out truly who the man was that she had fallen so irrevocably in love with.



Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 04



*A longer chapter which develops the narrative and characters before the most detailed sex scene yet. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment.

Chapter Four

The sun was slowly sinking beyond the hilled countryside that surrounded the village as Lucy made her way through the streets towards her teacher's house. It had taken a painstakingly prepared meal and a neck massage the night before to persuade her grandmother to let her stay out.

"Young ladies shouldn't be away from home during the night," she had repeatedly told her until her protestations that 'Amber's house was as safe as anywhere' and 'wasn't it about time that I was allowed such privileges' wore her down and she finally acquiesced.

Of course, Amber's house was in the opposite direction to where Lucy now walked.

The wind was getting stronger, colder, and her black summer dress with red rose pattern gusted about her thighs as autumn took hold of that provincial village. As she felt the first spots of rain, Lucy reflected on her relationship.

One thing was certain; she loved him. At first it was infatuation but that feeling of completion when she held him and he held her caused such an emotion that it caused a physical sensation in her chest. Not for the first time since the day before, however, she considered the fact that they hardly knew each other. She didn't think it mattered too much in her own case; she'd lived her whole life in this tiny place with its red phone boxes and elastic bands on driveways from the postman's round; what was interesting about her life?

As for him though... Where did he come from? What had those green/blue eyes of his seen over those hilly borders where life wasn't black and white and people begged for cigarettes and copper?

The rain was falling steadily now and Lucy realised it was seriously time to buy an umbrella. She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain effort to keep warm and turned onto his street. The houses were few and far between here, and thick oaks spread their branches over the road, their leaves collecting on the pavement beneath as they cycled through their annual phases. She had straightened her hair and regretted not tying it up as the wind blew it about her face, ruining her stylistic efforts.

At last, she approached his house and stepped through the knee-high wooden gate, rain droplets gathering on her skin and running down into her cleavage. She stepped onto the path that led to his front door and considered his house.

It was large and classical with three storeys but the windows were dark and closed, as they always had been those summer days when she had rung the bell in the vain hope of seeing him.

Except one.

Beneath what she assumed was the living room there was a tiny, frosted window that looked out onto the grass of his front lawn. It glowed red.

He must be home, he had to be, but she felt trepidation and her hand hung in the air before the iron chain which would sound his doorbell. All those times before with no answer made her fear being ignored once again. She quickly mastered her fear, however, and gave the chain a tug.

Somewhere deep in the house a bell jangled but for a minute or two there was no sign of movement. She stepped back from the door just in time to see the red light beneath the living room wink out and a moment later a yellow glow appeared beyond the thick mottled glass of the porch. Then she regarded a shadowy shape through that glass.

The lock clicked, the brass handle turned, the heavy wooden door swung inwards, and there he was: her desire, her teacher, her saviour from that prison of monotony. He wore a black shirt and slacks and, she was amused to note, a dark tweed sports' jacket (even indoors he overdressed!).

For a moment they merely regarded each other with a smile, uncertain what to say but enjoying what fate had led them to nonetheless. Then, suddenly, he snapped out of it and ushered her inside.

"Come in, come in; out of the rain," he gestured at the warmth of his house.

She stepped over the threshold and beyond him and the heat inside made her cold, damp skin tingle. There was a welcoming feel about his place, a scent in the air of pine and maple, and she felt immediately at home.

He closed the door behind her and she turned to face him. She stepped up and, pushing herself up onto her toes, leant forward to meet his lips. He placed his hands around her waist and reciprocated. The warmth of his mouth was like a warming shot of liquor that coursed throughout her body. Their kiss ended and their lips echoed off the tiles at their feet.

"Hello," he said, with a smile.

"Hi," she replied and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I missed you."

He leant forward and kissed her cheek and she blinked as her eyes watered slightly.

He took her hand and led her into the foyer. She gazed wide-eyed and the ornately carved staircase before her, the classic portraits which hung from the walls.

"Um... a teacher?" she laughed.

"Not always," he replied with a rueful smile. "Or rather: privileged background. Are you hungry?"

The prospect of food made her stomach growl.

"I could eat."

"Good, because I'm rather a dab hand in the kitchen, if I do say so myself. But," he regarded her in the dim yellow light of the wall sconces, "You're all wet; can't have you getting a cold, can we?"

He tugged at her hand and led her up the giant staircase to the first floor. On either side of the landing were long corridors, shadowed and mysterious. He pressed a switch and the one of the left was suddenly illuminated.

"We'll have to find something more appropriate for you," he said as he led her down the corridor past several closed door. "I'm afraid I don't have a wardrobe you may be used to but I'm sure you'll find something you like in here."

They stopped outside a door at the far end of the corridor and she watched him withdraw a set of keys from his pocket. Sliding one into the lock, he opened the door and it creaked on its aged hinges.

"Haven't been in here since I first moved in," he winked at her.

She was immediately struck by a strange scent that wafted forth. She frowned as she struggled to place it; for some reason it reminded her of doing the washing up.

"Choose whatever you like, whatever you think is suitable; they're all in your size I believe. When you're done, you'll find me downstairs. Just follow the smell of steak. Oh," he leant inside the doorway, retrieved a small bottle and handed it to her, "You'll need this."

"Okay," she responded, slightly confused, and looked down at the bottle in her hand. It was black plastic and the words 'Dressing Aid' were printed on its neck. She looked up and saw him descending the stairs. Frowning, she turned back to the room and stepped inside.

She flicked on the light and observed that along one wall were several wardrobes, their doors shut, and in the corner stood a floor-length mirror. Besides these, and a soft red carpet, the room was empty. She stepped up to the nearest cupboard and pulled open the doors. Inside hung dresses, tops and skirts. Her eyes widened as she realised that they were no ordinary fabrics, however; these were all fashioned from rubber. Now she realised the connection of before; washing up- latex gloves! But these weren't the cheap marigolds she used to clean plates with; these looked expensive and stylish... and sexy.

She reached out and felt a skirt with her hand. The material was strange and smooth and had a weight which was so unusual. She looked down at the bottle in her hand. She unscrewed the cap and poured a drop of its contents onto her palm. It was clear and oily and odourless and, as she rubbed it with her fingers, she realised that it was a lubricant. Her fingers immediately felt smooth and supple. 

So, choose a latex dress and prepare herself. She could do that. She looked at the shine of the rubber clothing and realised that she couldn't wait to see what her body would look like encased within some of it.

She stepped up to the second wardrobe and pulled at its doors. More latex hung inside, of all different colours and designs. Lucy sighed; there was so much of it, she was spoilt for choice. Apart from the general look of the material, however, nothing in particular had caught her eye.

She tried the last wardrobe and was surprised to find this one empty. No, it wasn't empty; there was one dress which hung at the far end. It consisted of a white, long-sleeved top with a connected black, flared, hipster skirt. In the front was a peephole which would give a view of her cleavage and around the collared neck hung a black and white striped tie, also in latex. Next to it hung two knee-length latex socks with frills at their tops.

A latex school uniform: clearly the most appropriate choice.

Lucy unhooked the dress and socks from the rail, stepped over to the mirror and placed them on the floor. Hooking her fingers into the hem of her dress she pulled it up and over her body and let it fall to her feet. She looked at herself in the mirror clad in her usual white cotton underwear and realised that tonight would be another transitory point in her life. Tonight was the night she would fully transform from the little girl and become his, totally. She couldn't wait.

Reaching round to her back, she unhooked her bra and let it fall on top of her dress. She stepped out of her panties and picked up the plastic bottle he had given her. On the back she read 'Use liberally' so she poured a good amount into her palm and rubbed her hands together to warm the oily liquid. Then she began to apply it to her skin. 

She started with her breasts, massaging the dressing aid into the firm orbs so they began to shine in the yellow light of the dressing room. Her nipples reacted to her fingers and became firm. As she brushed the oil onto them, she felt tingles of pleasure run down her back. Then she moved her hands down to her waist and brought them round as best as possible to her back. Squeezing out a little more oil from the bottle, she rubbed her arms and shoulders, trying to ensure that she was as frictionless as possible, before unhooking the rubber dress from the hanger.

She examined the uniform, trying to discern how exactly she was supposed to put it on. On the back was cut a keyhole which would expose part of her shoulder blades and which culminated in a press stud collar. It looked like as good a place as any to squeeze through.

Lowering the dress to knee height, she placed her legs through the keyhole and beyond and slipped the tight dress up to her waist. The rubber gripped her skin pleasantly and she could feel herself becoming more turned on as she put her arms into the long sleeves. The dressing aid helped the rubber to slide across her skin and she very quickly was pressing the stud on the back of the collar. The rubber was so tight across her chest that it held her breasts comfortably, lifting them up, and she was very pleased with the sight in the mirror of her fulsome cleavage through the peephole. 

One thing remained; the socks. She applied more dressing aid to her legs and then worked them up her calves, giggling at the snapping sound of the rubber against her skin when she let go of their frilled tops.

She stood up and looked in the mirror at the subversive fantasy she had become. The latex clung to her curves like a second skin, and its shiny surface glinted in the light. It felt strange as she moved but intensely erotic all the same. She ran her hands over her body, her fingers feeling the smooth surface over her waist and breasts. Where the material covered her it kept the heat on her flesh and she felt warm and comfortable. Her vagina was still bare though and she didn't feel that her usual cotton panties were really appropriate for this new outfit.

She stepped over to the wardrobes and withdrew the drawers at the bottom. Inside lay several examples of latex underwear and she found a pair of white panties with a frilled back. She slipped them on and was shocked by a sordid thrill as her pussy lips kissed their insides.

A sizzling sound was rising from downstairs and Lucy quickly pulled her hair into pigtails using the red hair bands she always kept on her wrist to fasten them. She slipped her black high heels back on and, with a last look at her shiny self in the mirror, left the room and made her way to him.

As walked towards the stairs, the surfaces of her outfit rubbed together with a squeaking sound and she was struck by the eroticism of the whole scenario. The youthful and innocent connotation of her outfit juxtaposed with the sordid rubber fabric it was fashioned from was undeniably arousing in a way she had never before experienced.

She descended the stairs and made her way beyond them to a doorway from which drifted the divine smell of grilled meat. She stepped through the door and regarded the object of her affections, minus his jacket (finally!), plating up two steaks in an expensive-looking kitchen area.

Her heels clicked on the tiled floor and he turned to face her. His eyes immediately widened but at the same time his brow knitted and her smile faded.

"Don't you like it?" she asked, concerned at his expression.

"I... I didn't think you'd choose that one. I thought I'd... Never mind."

She smiled and replied, "Why not? It's perfect, isn't it? It fits perfectly."

He stepped up to her and stroked her cheek. 

"It is," he told her and then, his eyes glancing to the side, "Of course it is."

"It feels so good. You do like it, don't you?"

He kissed her then, long and sensually.

"Of course I do," he whispered in her ear, "You look absolutely beautiful."

"Well... I'm REALLY hungry."

He smiled and picked up the plates of steak and chips.

"Well, follow me, little girl," he stepped back into the foyer and made his way to a room on the other side of the stairs. "Step into my parlour."

***

The food was perfectly cooked (in contrast to the stodgy mess her grandmother usually prepared) and an intense feeling of satisfaction spread through her as she ate her meal at his enormous oak dining table. They were drinking red wine (something she wasn't normally allowed) and the full-bodied warmth of it had made her a little light headed. She'd been so hungry they'd hardly spoken as she devoured the meal, although she couldn't help noticing that he had barely touched his own food. She cleared her plate and placed the cutlery next to each other on the plate.

"Good?" he asked opposite her and his voice echoed in the spacious dining room.

"Delicious. Thank you so much," she replied and reclined in the high backed chair, the rubber of her outfit squeaking against the wood.

She sipped her wine and observed him take a bite of his steak. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just the appropriate time, but it she suddenly felt an urge to find the answers those questions which had begun to burn.

"So," she began, and immediately took another sip of wine, "What's the story, Mr Porter?"

His eyes met her own as he slowly chewed.

"I mean," she continued, "You decide to move here six months ago- here, of all places! You're single- well, apart from me of course- you have a, forgive me, a bit of an issue about innocence and sex and what you think is corrupting my little soul, but you make love to me like I imagine a god would. And now... a room full of kinky clothes that just happen to fit me?"

He swallowed but did not speak and she perceived more needed to be said so that he didn't misunderstand her.

"It's just... I love you, Richard. But I need to know you. I think I deserve that. Don't I?"

He took a large gulp of wine and sighed.

"You're right," he admitted but could no longer meet her eyes, "You do deserve it."

He placed his glass back on the polished surface of the table and took a deep breath.

"I had a wife. Her name was Alice. We were quite happy together... for a time. Christ, it seems like a lifetime ago. She... it doesn't matter where she worked or where we lived, the point is that... well, you know me well enough to know what I like... what turns me on."

"I'm learning," she laughed, but realised this wasn't the time for humour. "Sorry."

"She was never entirely into it but she did it because... well, she loved me, I suppose. All those outfits and fetishes and... well, they make me... hard. I... I'm a good person. But it's like a part of me needs that sordid, that subversive, scenario for me to truly feel complete, satisfied."

"The outfits, the rubber, they were hers weren't they?" The words came back to her from the wood-panelled walls and stung her ears.

"Yes," he sighed and still he could not meet her eyes. "What I bought for her to make things more exciting for me... all the time ignoring what made her feel right."

"But... what's wrong with a few outfits?"

"She was from a quite strict background, a religious one. She wanted to distance herself from all that when we met, and we'd slept together many times by the time we married, but it was always there, clawing at the back of her mind, tearing her soul. And every time I made her dress up for me and pee for me and... other things, well maybe it got worse for her.

"But she wouldn't ever tell me. She had this idea of the dutiful wife, the loyal partner and if her problems and concerns got in the way of that, well, she wouldn't tell. But eventually, it got too much for her."

He paused and took another large gulp of wine. She had to admit that she was a little uncomfortable at wearing his ex-wife's clothing but she could see his pain and her heart felt squeezed in sympathy and the need to comfort him was overwhelming. But he had more to say and she restrained herself; this was important for them both.

"We... she got pregnant. We hadn't planned it but there you go. She was so happy. So happy."

She could see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

"And I was happy too. I knew how much it meant to her to have a baby- go forth and multiply and all that. And, I suppose, deep down, I knew that she hadn't been entirely happy before," he paused. "Well... it died."

She leant forward but her feet were pinned to the carpet.

"HE died," he continued. "And her world came crashing down about our ears. But, you see... it was my fault."

"How?" she asked, a little frightened.

"Because... because of all THAT," he gestured at her dress, "That's the dress. The dress she wore that night. It was my fault because of my sordid little fantasies and fetishes and what I made her do for my pleasure."

"I don't understand," she told him.

"She stopped speaking, for weeks- she couldn't handle it. Then, one day, she woke up and looked at me and said, 'It's all your fault.' And she was right. Don't you see?"

She frowned, trying to understand him.

"When she conceived I had made her dress up... She blamed me because... He died because we made him in such a depraved way."

"But that's nonsense-"

"But that's what she thought and, I don't know, maybe she was right. And one day I came home and she was in the bath and... the water was red."

He sniffed and finished his wine but he needed to finish.

"The razor was floating in the water and the water was cold. I pulled her out and tied some towels round her wrists and called an ambulance but it was too late."

"God," she breathed. Her own eyes had begun to water at his pain.

"Post Natal Depression. That's what they called it. But every day I went back to that hollow shell of a house and heard my footsteps echo and her words bit deeper. Maybe it WAS my fault."

Lucy couldn't hold herself still any longer. She leapt from her seat and crouched before him, placing her hands in his lap.

"Richard, you didn't do anything wrong. How could it be wrong to make you happy?"

She rocked forward on her heels and kissed him.




Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 04



"When we first met, you told me about how we're all so uptight, about how it's about time we all started letting go of our inhibitions-"

"Yes, but-"

"No, no buts! You were right; you ARE right. You've made me so happy and I love you and there's nothing wrong with any of it. You're just letting the bullshit your wife was brought up with poison you. I'm so sorry for what happened but... well, I know what it's like."

He placed a hand on her cheek.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

"My parents died when I was ten. They were visiting the nearest city, thinking about moving and taking me somewhere more.... enriching. Anyway, their car was sandwiched by two trucks. Some bastard checking his mobile instead of braking. Grandma took me in and raised me. But to her, well, I'm still a little girl. Young ladies shouldn't... et cetera, et cetera. Story of my life."

"I'm sorry, that must have been..."

"It doesn't matter," she stroked his arm, "Don't you get it? It doesn't matter because I've got you now. I love you. There's nothing you could do that would hurt me. Please believe me, there's nothing. Other than pushing me away. I don't believe in fate but... well, we met each other at the right time and now... this dress fits, baby. It fits me perfectly."

He gripped her arms and lifted her into his lap and kissed her. And this time, the kiss was so meaningful, so unrestrained that she slipped away from the reality of that room and felt herself floating on some ethereal plane. The kiss ended and they simultaneously let loose a sob which was also a laugh.

"I love you."

His three words made her whole.

She sat stroking his cheek and the silence didn't matter as five minutes passed.

Finally, she asked, "There's just one more thing. What's the red light under the house all about?"

He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Ah... well, that's something I've been working on this last week. Something for us. Seems a little odd now."

"No," she kissed him, "I want to see."

"Okay," he stood up and she slipped to her feet. His fingers entwined with hers and he led her back into the foyer.

Beneath the stairs he opened a door revealing a set of brick stairs that led into darkness. He reached beyond the door jam, flicked a switch and the stairwell was bathed in red light. Cool air drifted up from below and Lucy felt goose bumps emerge on the skin of her thighs. He squeezed her hand and led her down the stairs.

He let go of her hand at the bottom and she stepped forward to take in the sight before her eyes. It was a cellar half the size of the floor above. The walls and floor were fashioned in stone and she noticed that sconces held the red bulbs that illuminated the chamber. Against the walls stood wooden racks on which lay and hung all manner of kinky instruments of delightful torture: whips, floggers, canes, spankers, cuffs, collars, clamps. In the centre a hook hung from the ceiling and a bench stood off to the side.

"What's all this, then?" she turned and regarded him with a smile.

"Those 'other things' I mentioned. Seems a little silly now after..."

"No," she took his hand, "No it doesn't. Do your worst, sir; I want it. I want to be punished. I'm a very, very naughty girl, remember?"

She walked over to the nearest rack, the sound of her heels echoing in the stony chamber, and ran a hand over the leather grip of a black flogger. The twisted leather strips that entwined the handle felt smooth and sensual on the tips of her fingers and she took a deep breath as she waited for him to act, to finally win the battle with those demons he had fought for so many years. 

She heard his footsteps approach from behind and a second later his hands were around her waist, turning her to face him. Their eyes met and she smiled reassuringly when she regarded the water that bathed them. He sighed and guided her to the centre of the chamber, beneath the hook.

"Stand here," he told her and she complied wordlessly.

She watched as he walked over to one of the wooden racks and chose a pair of leather cuffs from which hung a metal chain. He returned and she held her arms out in front of her, wrists together, palms up. He grinned and tightened the leather of the cuffs around her wrists, fastening the tiny buckles.

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

Lucy closed her eyes and revelled again in that feeling of restraint.

"Yes," she exhaled.

He took the chain in his hand, stretched up and attached it to the hook above. Her arms were now suspended over her head and she leant forward to test the resistance. She was held firmly and knew she couldn't escape without his consent.

In the meantime he had returned to the same rack and now stepped over to her with another pair of cuffs in his hands. This time the leather manacles were slightly larger and were separated by a black metal bar around three feet long.

"To keep you open to me," he informed her and knelt down before her feet.

He attached one of the cuffs to her left ankle and then took hold of the other in his hand. He guided her legs apart until they were spread wide enough for her right ankle to meet the restraint at the opposite end of the bar and then firmly fastened it.

He stood back up and faced her. From his pocket he withdrew what appeared to be a small belt with a black rubber tube at its centre.

"Open your mouth," he instructed and she dutifully obeyed, her pussy becoming wetter by the second inside the latex panties.

He placed the rubber tube between her teeth and she automatically bit down. It was soft and her excitement grew at the feeling of the sides of her mouth being stretched around its width. He stepped round behind her and fastened the gag behind her head, making sure her pigtails hung down around it. Then he returned to face her. 

He was taking deep breaths now, exhaling them into the cool air of the cellar, and his eyes were no longer sad but lustful, predatory, as he regarded the latex-clad prisoner before him.

"Pull against you restraints. How does it feel?"

She adjusted her lips around the rubber gag, pulled against the cuffs chaining her to the ceiling, attempted to close her legs, but she was held fast. And it felt so good.

"Umm, ah, hrum," she spoke through the gag, and saliva escaped from her lips and ran down her chin. Realising speaking was as futile as escape, she nodded at him.

"Good," he said simply and stepped beyond her.

She couldn't turn to follow him and so hung there in the position he had put her, her eyes wide, making little groans in expectation of her punishment.

After a moment she heard him approach her from behind and felt his hand on her backside. His sensual fingers ran up the back of her legs and stroked the latex frills of her underwear.

"It's like you were made just for me," he sighed.

He lifted the black skirt over her waist and she felt his fingers in the top of the white panties. He tugged them down so they were stretched around her thighs and she felt the cold air brush her pussy lips. A single finger ran back up the inside of her leg and rested for a moment on her exposed hole. Then it disappeared and she heard his lips smack behind her; he was tasting her juices.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, "I want to eat you all up."

She moaned at the prospect.

"But first..." he continued.

She heard him take a step back and a second later there was a rush of air and a CRACK and her backside was stinging. She squealed in surprise and pain and intense arousal.

His fingers stroked her cheeks where he had struck her and the simultaneous feeling of pain and gentle pleasure was enough to cause a droplet of juice to pool and drip from her pussy.

Then his fingers were gone and she felt again the harsh bite of the cane. This time there was no caress, only a moment's pause and then another CRACK as he chastised her skin. Her muffled screams echoed off the stone as he struck her soft skin again and again, the white of her backside becoming latticed with red lines.

Finally, he stopped and she slumped forward, letting the restraint above her head take the weight of her limp body as she immersed herself in the pain.

For a moment there was only the sound of her panting, and then she felt his lips on her behind planting soft kisses on the sore results of his deeds. His tongue found the crevice of her backside and she felt its tip trace down between her cheeks to find her arsehole. 

She took a sudden deep breath through her nose and more of her saliva dripped from her chin as his tongue licked at her, sending shivers up her back. Then he found her pussy hole with his finger again and slid it deep inside of her. She groaned and the chain tinkled above them as she pushed her backside against his face, delighting in the deep growls he made as he greedily licked at her hole and finger fucked her pussy.

His thumb found her clitoris and she could feel her orgasm building but, suddenly, he was gone and she was left moaning in frustration.

She looked at him with eyes full of animalistic passion as he stepped round in front of her. His left hand came up and gripped her throat and she breathed harder as her windpipe was constricted under his strong fingers. Then he roughly grabbed her right breast with his free hand and squeezed it hard through the white rubber of her dress.

"Ummmm..." The choked moan escaped from her as he squashed her soft tit in his palm.

Then both his hands slipped into the peephole on the front of her dress and clasped the rubber fabric. He jerked his hands apart violently and the latex ribbed open, exposing her breasts. In an instant his mouth and teeth were on them, licking and biting at the erect and red nipples.

From his pocket he withdrew two little metal clips with rubber tips. He squeezed the jaws open of one and carefully clamped it to her right nipple. The feeling was exquisite: a sharp, biting pain that shot electricity through the round orb of her breast. He applied the second clamp and the pleasure was intensified.

She felt adrift on an ocean of bliss; she was experiencing something beyond her wildest, her most depraved imaginings: her life, her past, her future were abstract and distant and so, so irrelevant as he tortured her and made her completely and utterly his own.

His hand slapped in between her legs and began to roughly finger her cunt and her clit burned with engorged excitement. She was screaming and biting down hard on the rubber gag in her mouth and before a minute had passed she was riding the tidal wave of the most intense orgasm she had ever felt. Her eyelids squeezed shut under the force of it and a high-pitched shriek escaped from her throat.

His hand left her pussy and her head slumped forward, spit dripping to the floor as she made deep, amorous groans; the aftershocks of her orgasm causing her to shudder.

He let her recover for a minute and then she felt his hand on her wrists, releasing the chain which attached her to the ceiling. She put her arms, still connected at the wrists, around his neck and held him tightly in gratitude at what he had done to her, how he had made her feel. 

Then he was kneeling again before her, detaching the bar that spread her legs from the ankle cuffs. She brought her thighs together to shield her sensitive vagina and the panties slipped down to her feet.

He took her hand and guided her over to the bench nearby, leaving the panties behind. Slipping his fingers into the tear at the front of her rubber dress he continued the damage beyond her waist, splitting the skirt. He reached round to the back of her neck and unfastened the press stud on the collar. The latex fell from her body and pooled at their feet. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back so that she lay along the length of the cold wooden bench.

She relaxed back on the cool wood, lifting her arms above her head and arching her back so that her tits, the clamps still attached to her nipples, thrust out from her chest. Her master took her bound wrists and attached the cuffs to a clip on the floor off one end of the bench. Her ankles were similarly attached to two clips on the floor on either side.

There she lay, still reeling from the force of her orgasm, her legs spread around the bench, her arms pulled up and away from the rest of her body, her head hanging over the edge. The latex had made her sweat under his punishment and her skin shone dully in the red light.

From a nearby rack he retrieved a flogger and the long red and black leather thongs hung down in front of him as he gripped the hilt tightly. He took a position beside her and lightly whipped her naked chest.

The pain was sudden but different from the cane of before; the force of his blow was distributed across the thongs and she knew she would be able to withstand much more chastisement from this new weapon. She adjusted her chest after this warning strike and prepared herself for more.

Now he began to flog her body, his wrist spinning the grip round and round, the leather thongs circling in the air and stinging her skin over and over. The force of the strikes increased as he continued and she began to writhe on the bench as the skin of her stomach and breasts became redder with each hit. Then it was over and she relaxed back onto the bench making mewling noises as she revelled in the pain.

He moved to stand before her, her pussy held wide open by the restraints on her ankles. This time he swung the flogger overhand and she squealed as the leather strips repeatedly struck her vagina, the pain intense and sharp on her labia and clitoris. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she experienced the extremely exquisite sensation of having her pussy tortured.

All of a sudden it was over, and she opened her eyes to see him drop the flogger to the stone floor and bend forwards on his knees. She felt his soft, warm tongue on her clit and the sudden pleasurable contrast intensified her gratification. He licked at her pussy like a cat; little lightning-fast laps that teased her and prompted an attempt on her part to thrust her cunt harder onto his face in search of climax. But he withdrew his face and from his pocket retrieved a long, black vibrator.

She widened her eyes; never before had she received into her such a thing. It was even larger than his own cock and she inhaled sharply through her nose as he slowly began to insert it into her pussy. Her vagina stretched around the wide girth of that black phallus and she arched her back once more as it slowly slid up inside of her until only the red cap upon its end was left visible. 

But that was not the end of his penetration of her body.

From his other pocket he withdrew yet another dildo, slightly smaller than the first. With one hand on her hips he encouraged her to lift her pelvis until her arsehole was exposed. It was still wet with his saliva and she heard and felt him spit on it to increase the lubrication. With his right index finger he probed at her hole, teasing it open with the tip. Slowly, gently, he inserted his finger into her arse and she was overcome by the strangest sensation she had yet experienced. She immediately felt like she might have an accident as his finger probed her insides and the muscles tightened around his finger as a result.

"Relax," he whispered and his soothing voice flowed over her and she felt the muscles easing in her backside.

By this point he had penetrated her so deeply that his knuckles had reached the cheeks of her behind and he now slid his finger backwards until it was almost out of her. Just before it was withdrawn, however, she felt it slide back and she let loose a deep, guttural moan.

He slid his finger back and forth a few more times before withdrawing it entirely and a moment later she felt the tip of the second vibrator on her opening. Again he was gentle and it was not long before he had teased that firm phallus up into her backside.

The sensation was a concentrated charge of consensual erotic violation and she lay there groaning uncontrollably as her entrances were stretched and filled by those two ersatz cocks. She almost didn't notice him walk round so that he stood above her head but a second later his fingers were removing the gag in her mouth and stroking her cheeks. His crotch stood now in front of her face and she regarded, upside down, his hand come back to unzip his flies and undo the button of his trousers. A second later his fully erect cock was loosed from its confines, jumping forth to stroke her chin. His balls hung down before her eyes and he leant forward, bringing them towards her eager mouth.

She thrust her tongue out and began to lick at them as he bowed over her, his hands seeking her filled openings. She could taste the salt of his sweat upon the skin of his balls as she greedily lapped with her tongue.

She had to stop a second later, however, as she was overcome by the intensity of a new sensation. Her lower body became alive with concentrated eroticism as both vibrators began to buzz inside of her. He had twisted the caps of both, causing them to send shudders through her insides. She started moaning with pleasure as she felt another orgasm begin to build but was cut off a second later as her mouth and throat were filled with his cock.

His hands came down to rest on her breasts, the nipples still clamped beneath his palms. He squeezed them tightly and began to fuck her face, her pigtails swinging back and forth under the onslaught of his thrusting pelvis.

The tip of his cock struck the back of her throat and she gagged, spluttering saliva into his pubic hair but he did not stop. The chamber was filled with the sound of her gurgles and watery choking, the walls reflecting back the insistent buzzing of the vibrators embedded within her body, the sound like a horde of angry bees eager for the honey of her pussy.

Her vagina and arse were on fire, her clit felt ready to burst, his fingers dug into the skin of her tits leaving red nail marks. She was letting forth strangled screams which became louder and shriller as his long, thick dick slid in and out of her mouth. 

Her high-pitched wailing reached a crescendo and she came, her sweat covered body writhing on the bench like a trapped animal. Almost simultaneously he yelled above her and she felt his hot fluid shoot to the back of her throat. She coughed and spluttered and spat out his spunk to stop herself from drowning. He withdrew and shot the rest of his load across her chest and stomach, thick ribbons shooting out of its purple end all over her. Her head hung limply as he unloaded on her, a cocktail of his cum and her saliva running out of her mouth and down over her cheeks and nose.

She felt held in a limbo of multiple orgasms as the vibrators continued to buzz inside her pussy and arse and she was panting deliriously as she continued to come, over and over. Her groans became deeper and weaker as her body physically surrendered to the all-consuming sense of bliss that wracked her very soul. The sounds of his whimpers above her became muffled and were replaced by a rushing torrent like rapids in her ears. Her vision darkened and all of a sudden she was falling into an unreal chasm of chaotic light and sound. She felt nausea and then all was black.

***

A second, an eternity later, a fuzzy image began to coalesce before her eyes. She blinked sluggishly and the image became clearer before she recognised her lover's face in front of her own. Slowly, sensation returned to her ravaged body and she realised that she was no longer bound to the sweat drenched wood of the bench; she was lying in his arms upon the floor of the cellar, the vibrators no longer embedded in her flesh. She saw his concerned face relax and a smile broke upon his features. He leant forward and kissed her lightly upon the lips.




Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 04



"Are you okay?" he asked, soothingly.

She took a deep breath and swallowed. Her throat ached in protest.

"My god," she croaked.

"I'm so sorry," he told her, concern creasing his forehead once more, "I didn't mean to-"

"No," she interrupted him, "You are. You're my god."

He looked a little confused for a moment and then he grinned and kissed her again, passionately this time. Their lips parted and a string of their mixed saliva hung in the air between them until she spoke again.

"That was so amazing. That was SO amazing. That was unreal."

"I love you, Lucy," he told her and his hands gripped around her body in a soft squeeze.

"I love you too," she replied, "I always will."

They looked at each other for a moment longer. Then he shifted his right arm so that it slipped beneath her legs and he lifted her from the cold stone. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder as he carried her across the room and up the stairs, back to the warm wood of his house.

Gently and gracefully he bore her up the main stairs to the first floor and down the right corridor at the top. At the end of that passage he turned to the left and carried her through a door. 

She was so weary from her treatment that she felt herself ready to sleep in his arms but she saw enough over the black fabric that clad his shoulder to realise that they had entered the master bedroom of his lavish home. There was a luxurious freshness in the air and she regarded how everything within was white, and clean, and pure.

He gently lowered her and her arms slipped from around his neck as she felt a supreme softness beneath her. He stood up and she summoned enough energy to stretch her tired limbs out around her as she became conscious of the fact that she lay upon an enormous bed clad in sheets of purest Egyptian cotton. The smooth and warm fabric soothed her wounded skin and the fresh fragrance in the air revived her senses enough for her to be able to regard her master undressing beside the bed.

She watched as he laid his dark clothes over the back of a chair that stood in front of a white dressing table and then step over to her, naked and beautiful and hers. The room was dimly lit by yellow lamps which stood upon side tables beside the bed and she delighted in the sight of his firm skin shining dully in their light. He leant forward and slipped the latex socks from her legs, dropping them on the chair to join his own clothes.

Then he was beside her, easing his body onto the bed and slipping his arms around her body to hold her. Her hands managed to travel to his head where her fingers ran into his short, dark hair, caressing the strands.

His mouth found her own and they kissed, losing themselves in the heaven he had brought her to.

"I'll never leave you, Richard," she whispered and his fingers stroked her cheek.

"Sleep now," he replied and smiled, "Sleep and dream of us."

"Yes," she breathed, "but dreams are but a shadow now."

She turned and they shuffled in unison beneath the soft sheets of his bed. He pushed his body against her own and his arms tightened around her and she rejoiced in a feeling of safety, of security and was content.

She slipped a hand under the pillow upon which her head rested and her fingers stroked a slightly rougher material. She clasped this new fabric and withdrew it from beneath the pillow to discover her panties from that far off summer day, here held in keeping; a memento of that first time beneath the trees; a symbol of his love.

"Now I have YOU," his voice came softly in her ear.

"And you'll never need anything else to feel happy," she answered.

She felt him reach out and the light disappeared. His firm embrace returned and she smiled invisibly in the darkness and felt herself fall into the most restful and contented sleep she would ever have.



Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 05



*The penultimate chapter. Contains a watersports sex scene before a cliffhanger which will lead us nicely into the final part where the characters will meet their destiny. Comments are welcome, as always. 

*

The sensation of sunlight struck her cheek and Lucy slowly opened her eyes. With a sluggish stretch of her limbs she spread herself across the white sheets of Richard's enormous bed and realised he was no longer by her side. The salty smell of bacon drifted up from the floor below, however, and she was reassured.

She slipped her naked body out from under the plush duvet and, finding a warm, soft bathrobe at the foot of the bed, shrugged it on and made her way downstairs.

She found him in the kitchen poaching eggs and mixing béarnaise sauce in a pan, his back to her, clad in a matching bathrobe. She tip-toed up to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

"Good morning, handsome," she said and kissed his neck.

"Hello there, my little girl," he responded, "I hope you like eggs Benedict."

"I don't think I've ever had them."

"Then you're in for a treat. Take a seat."

He gestured to a stool which stood before a wing of the kitchen tabletops and she slipped herself onto it as he served up the indulgent food.

She found she was famished and greedily gobbled down the breakfast he had prepared, the taste of the food almost as good as the sex of the night before. He watched her as he ate his own breakfast and laughed.

"I take it you like it? My dad always said that you should either learn to play an instrument or become a good cook if you want to impress a lady."

She swallowed the last bite of bacon and smiled.

"Your food isn't the only way you impress."

He leant forward over the tabletop and kissed her.

"Seriously though, do you want to know why you're so amazing?" she asked.

"Oh dear, I think I may be sick," he laughed.

"Because you devote all your attentions to the other person. You focus entirely on my pleasure, my satisfaction."

"It's what turns me on, I suppose; what makes ME satisfied."

"Your wife didn't know how lucky she was," she sighed.

He looked away and she immediately felt guilty.

"Shit. I'm sorry; I wasn't thinking."

"No," he met her eyes again, "It's okay."

He placed his cutlery on the plate before him.

"Well," she spoke, "I need a shower."

He stood up and held out his hand, "Come on, I'll show you how it works."

She slipped her fingers between his and let him guide her from the room.

He led her upstairs and into a marble-tiled bathroom that matched the opulence of the rest of his house. There was a large walk-in shower beside a giant bath inlaid with Jacuzzi jets. The shining walls were lit by a circular window of frosted glass and Lucy could feel warmth through the tiles at her feet.

"Under floor heating," he told her with a wink and stepped over to the shower.

He was in full teacher mode, demonstrating the mechanism of his shower, and she smiled at his well-meant patronising. She slipped her fingers into the belt at her waist and let the dark blue robe fall from her naked body.

"Actually," she interrupted him, "I think I need the toilet first."

"Oh, okay, I'll go and tidy up," he answered and made for the door.

"No," her words stopped him, "Stay."

She walked over to the toilet and sat herself down on the white plastic seat. She spread her legs a little to afford him a view of her pussy and placed her hands on her knees. He stood by the door, watching her intently; their eyes met and they held each other's gaze.

She exhaled lightly, relaxed her muscles and a trickle of pee ran out from between her labia and tinkled into the water beneath her backside. She smiled at her accomplishment and placed a little effort behind her voiding. The trickle became a jet and Richard regarded the spray of piss which shot down from her vagina with that familiar curling of his lip. Lucy grinned and ran her fingernails up her thighs as she performed that private act for him to watch.

She let the jets of pee subside until a last trickle fell from her pussy lips but she was not yet totally relieved; she held some back for later. Richard stepped over to her and she saw that his erection had emerged from the front of his robe. She took it in her hand and leant forward to lick and kiss its head.

"I need to go too," he sighed above her.

She sat back against the cold toilet cistern and stroked her hands over her breasts.

"Then go," she ordered.

She took hold of her left breast and squeezed, slipping her right hand down between her legs to fondle her moist pussy. Taking his cock in hand, Richard caressed himself and directed it at her chest. His eyes closed as he concentrated on willing himself to urinate.

Then, suddenly, Lucy gasped as his hot piss shot onto her breasts, splashing droplets onto her neck and cheeks. It was warm and clear and ran down between the orbs of her tits, over her belly and into her pussy before dripping into the bowl beneath her arse.

"Umm," she groaned and focussed on the sensation of his pee drenching her naked body, her finger working furiously on her clit. His warm waters running over her vagina was an indescribable feeling and she felt an instant need to fuck, to feel his depraved cock inside her pussy, dripping with both their piss.

She leant forward and opened her mouth and he responded by directing his flow at her face. Her mouth filled with his fluid and she let it overflow and pour down her chin to fall on her body, the salt tingling on her tongue. Then his arc of pee raised and she felt it fall on her hair like rain. She moaned as she fingered herself on that toilet seat, her body becoming covered in piss, shining in the sunlight streaming through the frosted glass of the window.

She leant back again and let him spray her nakedness with his tag, giving herself wholly to him to be his possession. He directed his diminishing stream at her pussy and she was stimulated almost to orgasm by the sensation of hot water shooting onto her clitoris whilst she touched herself.

At last the arc of pee subsided and the last few drops fell from his cock onto her legs. Dripping wet and shining, Lucy sprang from the toilet and pushed him to the warm marble tiles of the floor. His hands automatically clasped her waist as she spread her legs around him, mounting him and lowering herself onto his rock-hard erection.

They released a simultaneous moan as his cock, lubricated by their piss, slipped into her, and she sat back to deepen the penetration. Her hands found his shoulders and she began to rock her hips back and forth on his crotch, sliding his penis in and out of her burning insides. She was hungry for him and wanted to take him completely inside of her; to fit together the puzzle pieces they had realised they had always been. With each rock of the hips she took more and more of his cock into her pussy until she was resting her backside on his pelvis, only his balls visible beneath the split of her arse cheeks.

His hands came up and clasped her breasts and her stimulation was intensified. The wet sound of their connection echoed in the tiled room. She bent forward and kissed him, his piss dripping from her sodden brown hair.

Then she lifted her upper body and began to ride his cock, her speed increasing. She delighted in her power over him as she bounced her hips on his cock, the length inside her stretching her pussy walls.

They were moaning deeply now, their bodies both slick with sweat and piss, her arse lifting up and down as she rode her lover. The familiar rush of warmth began to spread from her clit and she screamed in delight, the sordid nature of their coupling heightening her orgasm. She came to a shuddering stop on his cock, falling forward to pant in his ear as his hands slipped round to grip her arse.

He let her recover for a moment and then flipped them together so that she now lay upon the tiles and he was above her, his engorged dick still inside of her. Lucy wrapped her legs around his waist and slipped her arms around his neck as he began to fuck her wet body on the bathroom floor.

Her pussy, sensitive from the recent orgasm, stung from his strong thrusts and he reined in his passion to enhance her pleasure. His right hand came up to stroke her cheek as the speed of his fucking increased and she watched his determined face gaze into her own as he brought himself to orgasm.

With a strangled grunt he pulled his cock from her and shot warm spunk over her naked body. It sprayed her chest and belly and she pushed herself up, mouth wide open, to catch some of his stream in her mouth. She swallowed and smacked her lips as he pumped his seed onto her. Then she sat up and licked the end of his cock clean of cum. He shuddered as her tongue sent shivers of painful pleasure through his body.

Spent and satisfied they held each other on the tiles and kissed.

"Now you've made me all dirty, too," he told her once he had regained control of his breathing.

"And I'm not finished," she responded and, placing her hands on his shoulders, pushed him back to the floor. Once he was in a lying position, she squatted over his face and looked down at his wide eyes.

"Open wide," she instructed and he obeyed, whimpering as he realised her intentions.

She lowered her pussy to his lips and caressed her crotch.

"Are you ready, you dirty man?" she asked and he nodded eagerly.

The last of her pee from before sprayed into his mouth and filled it. He groaned deeply as he felt its warmth fill and overflow his mouth, her water running down his cheeks to pool about his head on the floor.

"That's it, drink my piss, you bastard," she delighted in saying, "I was just a little innocent girl; now look at what you made me into."

She paused her flow as she lowered her knees to the tiles and brought her pussy back up to his mouth. She pushed her pelvis forward and forced her wet lips onto his mouth before beginning to pee again. Her waters flowed into his mouth and over his nose as she ground her cunt onto his face. He spluttered and choked as his throat filled and she giggled at the sensation of her slippery crotch, red and raw from his violation of her, sliding over his mouth.

Her stream subsided and she watched him as he let the last of her water run from his mouth. She stood up, drips from her pussy falling onto his face, and turned. Her feet stood either side of his face as she looked down at his wet body before her, his cock at half-mast: trying to regain its strength of before because of what she had just done to him. Smiling, she lowered herself once more, spreading her thighs about his head and leaning forward to take his cock in her mouth. She felt his tongue eagerly enter her wet pussy and grinned around his length before she began to suck at his dick.

Her clit began to tingle again as the tip of his tongue probed her and she began to moan as his hardening cock filled her mouth. She slid it further and further into her until it probed the back of her throat causing her to gag and spit onto his balls. She withdrew his member and coughed, simultaneously gripping it with her hand and masturbating him as she sat back, forcing her pussy and arse onto his face. She squeezed her left breast as she rubbed herself on his mouth, biting her lip in lust and pleasure. She spat onto his cock in her hand, lubricating it as she pumped its now full length and began to bounce her pussy up and down on his stuck-out tongue. She groaned animalistically and bent forward once more to suck at him, her hand sliding over his wet skin, leaving scratches, before finding and massaging his balls.

Then she came, hard and fast, and ground her pussy down onto his mouth, her teeth clamping around his cock with the power of it. She shuddered once, twice, then tightened her lips around his cock and redoubled her efforts at sucking him.

She built up a steady rhythm, the saliva of her mouth gurgling in her throat as his engorged dick slid in and out, in and out of her face. Within no time she felt him tense beneath her, his balls tighten above her nose, and she gagged on the jet of hot cum which shot to the back of her throat. She spluttered and coughed drops of his cum onto his thighs before composing herself and swallowing the remaining spunk which flowed into her mouth.

She stood up, heard him taking deep breaths beneath her like a man saved from drowning, and walked over to the shower.

"Now I think I need a shower."

She stepped behind the glass wall of the cubicle and switched on the warming, clean spray of the shower head. The hot water rained down on her naked body and his cum and piss ran from her skin to disappear down the plughole.

Richard still lay on the tiles, exulting in the experience of the little girl he had discovered that summer day pissing in his mouth and riding his cock. He rolled over to regard her soaping herself through the frosted glass of the shower cubicle as the room began to fill with steam.

After a few minutes had passed, he got up and retrieved a towel for her from a rack by the door. She was rinsing herself by the time he approached and leant round the glass divide.

"Thank you," she said and took the towel as she stepped beyond the reach of the shower's spray. She dried her skin with the soft towel and then proceeded to wrap it around her body. She coupled her arms around his neck and kissed him, the taste of her pee and pussy still on his lips.

"Did my baby like that?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he responded breathlessly.

She smiled and kissed him again.

"Well, you can have that any time you like, I promise," she told him. "Now, you better get washed and I better get dressed. Grandma's expecting me back this afternoon."

She squeezed his hand and left the bathroom as he slipped his own body under the relaxing jet of hot water.

She walked back to the secret room of the night before filled with latex and found her dress and underwear where she had left them on the floor. She slipped on her cotton panties and bra before stepping into her dress and regarding herself in the large mirror. The fabric was crinkled from being left damp on the carpet but she supposed it would have to do; she couldn't return home dressed in rubber after all.

She made her way back to the bedroom and sat herself down on at the dressing table. She found a dryer and gave her hair a quick blast, using his brush to fashion it into some sort of order.

Her ablutions complete, she leant back in the chair before the dresser and sighed, the sound of falling water drifting down the corridor as her lover prepared himself for the day. She played with her hair with her fingers, twirling the ends between the tips, and thought of how complete she felt now that she had him.

It wasn't long before her concerns of the day before returned and she once more considered what the future may hold and how they could continue. One thing was for sure; they would continue. And why not? She wasn't going to allow them to be apart for any reason; there was no alternative to his love.

She looked up a few minutes later as he entered, wrapped in a towel, a red garment slung over one arm.

"I thought you might want this," he said, "It's cold outside after all."

He lifted the garment and she saw that it was a red hooded sweatshirt; EXETER UNIVERSITY was written in large white letters across the front.

"An old memento," he explained as she took it.

"Thank you," she smiled. It was warm and soft and smelt of him; she slipped it over her head and felt comforted

His arms slid around her and they embraced, tightly.

"Let me give you my number. I don't have a mobile but you can reach me here anytime you need," he said.

"Oh, so old-fashioned!" She giggled, "Well, I DO have a mobile."

She reached over to her little handbag and retrieved her phone. She programmed his number into it and then kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I better be off, baby," she told him begrudgingly, "Don't want to get Grandma all suspicious."

They embraced again and he kissed her deeply.

"Don't worry," he looked at her and said, "We'll be together properly one day soon."

"I know," she whispered and then, without another word she left him there and padded down the stairs. She hesitated at the front door, feeling somewhere deep down that this was another of those transitory moments, but, not being able to rationalise it, gripped the handle and stepped out into the bluster of the grey Sunday morning.

She shuddered immediately and, closing the door behind her, slid the red hood of his oversized top up and over her hair to shelter from the drizzly rain. She thrust her hands into the pouch on the front of the sweater and began the long walk home, her heels clicking on the tarmac as the fallen leaves blew about her goose-pimpled legs.

***

The rain had begun to fall more heavily by the time she reached the path that led to the thatched cottage which had been her home for eight years. She was shivering from the cold and eagerly slipped her key into the lock of the front door. 

She frowned when she realised it was already unlocked. Odd; Grandma always locked the door, even when she was inside. Despite the tranquillity of the village, she was old-fashioned and paranoid and still afraid of the dark. Lucy's heart began to beat faster with trepidation. She pushed open the door and stepped gingerly inside. 

It was cold and dark and Lucy felt like she was stepping into an alien place, familiar yet wrong somehow, and it worried her. She pushed back the hood of her top and thought of calling Richard but then overcame the urge; it was probably nothing... but why were the hairs on the back of her neck tingling?

"Grandma?" she called and her voice came back to her, tremulous and pathetic in the silence of the house.

There was a sweet trace in the air like wet and rusting metal and it seemed to be coming from the living room.

"Grandma, is everything alright?" The frightened girl's voice returned again.

Leaving the door open behind her, Lucy padded into the living room. There was her grandmother, sitting in her soft chair, her back to the doorway where Lucy now stood. A gust of wind sent a furious 'bruuur' through the house and she wavered in the doorway, regarding the back of her grandmother's head. It was freezing cold and all the lights were off. Lucy felt a rush of adrenaline and felt like running back the way she had come but knew that she couldn't, knew that she had to see.

She stepped over to her grandmother and looked down to regard a horror which would forever be seared into her mind's eye, an afterimage as indelible as the burnt shadows of Hiroshima. There her grandmother sat, her skin pale and grey where it showed through her dressing gown; her eyes fixed ahead; mouth slack and wide; her throat a ragged gash. Blood had spurted down her clothes and was soaked into her gown; a deep, dark red: the colour of hate.

Lucy stepped back and tripped on the edge of the coffee table which sent her falling back to the carpet and into more damp, cold blood. She brought her red hands up to her face and screamed at them.

Suddenly she was hauled to her feet by a rough hand under her armpit. A stinking palm was clamped over her mouth and a sudden breath through her nose was accompanied by the stench of stale sweat.

Before her eyes was raised a blade, cruelly serrated and encrusted with blood. She screamed at the sight of it but this was muffled by the flesh of her assailant's palm.

The blade lowered and she felt the cold steel press against her throat. Then a hoarse and harsh voice was at her ear.

"Now, my little red whore, it's time to meet the wolf."

The blade left her throat and there was a sudden crack to the back of her head. Her vision drowned in blackness.



Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 06



*This is the final chapter of the story. If you haven't read the others, I recommend doing so as this is only here to complete the tale for those who are interested in the fate of the characters. There is no sex in this chapter but rather a consideration of the whole point in its composition and a response perhaps to previous comments. I hope you enjoy and, as always, comments are welcome.






Lucy felt her eyes opening but nothing was revealed but a blackness as deep as the unconscious void from which she had emerged. Her mouth was dry and she became aware of rough cloth between her teeth- a gag. Her wrists hurt and she was puzzled then anxious when she realized that she couldn't pull them apart. She was bound and drowning in darkness.

The air was close and hot and she panicked. She struggled against her bonds but hit her head on something metal and pain detonated behind her eyes.

She groaned and tried to take control, forcing herself to take deep and calming breaths. She felt a jolt and became aware of the deep buzz of an accelerating engine. Realisation blossomed- she was in the boot of a car!

The image of her grandmother's corpse came back to her; the ragged gash at her throat spilling crimson blood, and Lucy sobbed as she realised it was all true- this was her reality.

The car boot stank of oil and old cigarettes and her mind raced as she tried to comprehend what was happening to her and why.

This can't be real; it's not happening! The thought spun in her mind like a scrolling LED display but she felt the coarse lining of the boot beneath her head and smelt the stale smoke and felt the lurches and jolts and knew that it was real, that it was indeed happening as her abductor took her heaven knows where.

She brought her bound hands up to her face and tried to slip her fingers into the dirty cloth gag in her mouth but then she heard the brakes groan and felt the car come to a stop. The handbrake clicked but the engine kept running. A door slammed and she heard heavy footsteps falling on wet earth and a second later the boot was open and cold air was flowing onto her face. The boot light flicked on and her eyes stung from the sudden brightness. She blinked and the image of a man slowly coalesced before her.

He towered over her, clad in black. He was unshaven and his grimy hair fell about his face in lank curls. He stank of drink and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. His right hand rested on the lid of the boot as he stared down at her and she moaned with horror at the sight of dry blood on his palms. In his left he clutched the terrible blade with which he had ended her grandmother's life. Fat and heavy rain fell about him as he leered down at her and she whimpered.

Then his bony hand was grabbing her by the collar of the red hooded sweatshirt and dragging her from the confinement of the car boot. She fell to the wet muddy ground and her bare knees stung from the sudden impact. She bore the pain and stole a glance at their surroundings. It was dark and raining but she could discern the shadowy silhouettes of trees about them, and could hear the violent wind stirring their leaves. She frowned through her shock and felt that, despite the hellish nature of the place, it was somehow familiar. She panted through the gag as he slammed the boot shut above her. Her lungs felt lacerated by the fumes of the exhaust pipe next to her face and she coughed awkwardly through the cloth between her teeth.

Then his fingers were in her hair and wrenching her to her feet; needling pain latticed her scalp. Still painfully clutching her hair, he pulled her along with him, across the muddy and slippery road and into the uneven ground of a forest.

"Please," she tried to say but the gag muffled and distorted her pleading into an unintelligible groan. She tried again but it was no clearer and by focussing on this she lost her footing when her foot snagged on a tree root. She fell forward and was suspended for a moment as his hand in her hair took her full weight. Her scream was muffled but unmistakeable and his fingers released. She fell forwards and, without her hands to take the fall, her face slammed into the damp mulch of the forest floor.

His hand was at her throat in an instant, pulling her into a sitting position. His palm came sailing through the air and impacted with her cheek leaving the skin pink and stinging. 

Then his face was before her own, spraying spittle as he hissed, "Concentrate you little cunt... and keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll cut your fucking throat just like..."

Tears ran down her cheeks as she winced from this terror before her. He couldn't finish his sentence but the image of her grandmother's ruined body returned. 

She sobbed once, twice... but that was all he'd allow. His fingers gripped her arm and she was wrenched once more back to her feet, the cruel blade held in his other hand, always ready for a slicing violation of her flesh.

Ever on he dragged her and she knew it was no use struggling, not with the knife promising pain at every step; on and on, stumbling between the trees, the branches flailing above them like the limbs of silent, screaming children. The rain lashed down between the boughs, drenching them both, mixing with the cold sweat of her skin. Her hair hung, tangled and dripping about her shoulders. The only light was of a full moon that peeked between clouds now and then, illuminating the nightmare that unfolded before her eyes and on the tips of her nerves.

Eventually, after an age of terror and pain had passed, her abductor dragged her before a large tree on the edge of a clearing. He cast her to the ground before its spreading branches and she panted in exhaustion and pain. She glanced about and realised with mounting confusion that she sat beneath a chestnut tree. The chestnut tree. The tree under which she had first consummated her love with Richard. 

Oh, Richard; if only he could be there now to save her from this misery.

The meadow of blue flowers was barren now autumn had worked its power. The clearing was dark and mockingly cold. No longer would it be her favourite spot. No more would she collect those flowers for her grandmother... unless it was for her grave... if, of course, she ever had that chance.

The evil stood before her and the wet blade glinted in the intermittent moonlight. He leant forward and pulled the gag from her mouth. It fell about her throat and she took deep breaths and tried to gulp the dryness away. His hand went to an inside pocket of his jacket and she regarded her phone as he withdrew it. 

"We need company for this," he snarled and his yellow teeth were bared. "I need to make a call. You stay right where you are."

She watched as he began to tap on her phone, frowning as he navigated whatever menu he had discovered. She tried the bindings at her wrists again and realised that the rain and mud had afforded her more freedom; she could slide her wrists more easily against each other. Furiously she began to work at the bonds but not so vigorously that he might notice.

His eyes returned to her as he raised the phone to his ear and she froze. A moment passed and then he spoke.

"I'm not your baby... Yes, it's me. I've got something of yours- I think you know what it is and I'm going to gut her... Listen! I'm going to cut this little whore unless you come and meet me. It's time to stop running, Richard. It's time to confess your sins and be judged. Come find us. We're where you two first met. How romantic. Oh, and I hear one siren, I see one uniform and this little cunt gets her throat slit. Understand?"

Without waiting for a response his finger pressed a button and he cast her phone to the ground.

"Now we wait," he breathed and she noticed his hands were trembling. "Shouldn't be long, I think. He won't be able to stand the idea of his little whore at my mercy."

Her mind swam with pain and confusion; he had called Richard but for what purpose? What was the connection?

"Why do you call me that?" she croaked.

"What?" he snapped, seemingly surprised at the sound of her voice.

She gulped painfully and spoke again, "Whore. Why do you call me that?"

He released a hiss through his teeth.

"Because that's what you are. A whore. Giving him your disgusting little body. Letting him corrupt you. You repulse me."

He spat at her and his saliva landed on her mud streaked legs.

"Who are you?" she asked him, steeling herself against the fear.

He smiled; a twisted leer that mocked lives of joy and contentment.

"I'm the retribution your corruptor has been running from all these years. I'm the one who will finally bring him to justice."

***

The cold started in his heart and crept outwards along his veins until the phone dropped from his paralysed fingers. Richard's breath caught in his chest and he was frozen for a moment of shock and horror and disbelief. Guilt gripped him. Lucy's face, twisted by betrayal, swam before his sight, distorted by tears. His presence had ruined a life. Again.

Feelings of the night before, that morning, recurred; the warmth of her next to him, in his arms, astride him, in loving embrace. They mocked him in retrospect. They became torn and twisted by the undeniable eventuality of that voice on the phone.

In the end those feelings spurred him to action even as his heart shattered. He shrugged on his jacket automatically, pulled on his shoes without lacing them, and ran from the house, the door swinging unlocked behind him. He leapt into his car and the wheels spun on the wet tarmac as he charged towards a fate he had postponed for far too long.

***

The murderer paced back and forth before her, turning the point of the blade against his opposite palm. She could see a trickle of blood run from its contact and she knew that he was truly mad. The rain was falling heavily now and she shivered as her legs became marked by gooseflesh. He seemed to be ignoring her as he psyched himself up for the confrontation he had arranged with her love, but she kept her eyes fixed on his person as she worked her wrists against the bonds that held her. The wet mulch beneath her acted as a lubricant and she suppressed a laugh of relief when she finally felt the coarse bonds slip over her right wrist and onto her fingers.

The relief was consumed by more burning fear as he spoke again.

"They tried to cut my claws. They called it a hospital but it was a prison. They didn't understand what I told them; their only answer was dope. Make me drool on my chin and pat each other on the back at making it all go away. But it didn't all go away, don't you see?"

Lucy met his eyes but didn't move a muscle lest it arouse whatever temperament might be unleashed in him.

"Well, in the end, I stopped trying to convince them. They clearly were all infected by the same cancer as him. I played my part and spoke the pleasantries and in the end they let me go. It was so easy. So easy to fool those with blinkered sight. Well, my eyes are open.

"All this time I've watched you. I followed him to this place, to this spot, to kill him. I stood across that clearing." He gestured beyond the naked branches of the tree. "Right there with this knife in my hand. And then you came along... in your little dress with your little basket and I watched. I couldn't help myself. I watched as you transformed from the innocent girl you should be into... into the whore you are now."

"Then why," her voice trembled, "why didn't you... kill us both then and there?"

He looked startled at her words and looked down at the wet blade in his hand.

"I... maybe I should have. But..."

"But you like to watch, don't you David?"

Richard's voice came from behind him and he stepped out from the shadows of the trees, his hands at his sides. His eyes flicked to her and she saw the sheen of tears that covered them but also something else- resolve?

Her abductor spun round to regard him and though he lifted the knife he did not move any further towards his prey. Rather, Richard stepped steadily towards him. Lucy suppressed the natural desire, need, to run; fleeing now might help save her but what of her love? She desperately felt in the mulch beneath her for something, anything that might be of use. As her fingers dug into the soil her nails scratched on the surface of a rock, embedded in the earth.

"That's what you always liked," Richard continued and his voice was eerily calm, as if he had prepared his speech. "Alice told me."

"You shut your filthy mouth!" David shouted. "You took her from me. You and your disgusting, sordid depravity. You twisted my sister until she had nothing left."

Realisation blossomed and Lucy's eyes went wide; this was Alice's brother, Richard's brother. Looks like madness runs in the family, she thought in a moment of black humour.

Richard stopped and looked down at the wet earth beneath him and she saw a tear fall from his face. She could feel her hands tremble behind her as she regarded how close the two men were now to each other. Then he looked over at her and their eyes met and she saw his guilt-ridden face transform into one of strength. He took a deep breath and his voice came clear as he pushed his emotions away.

"No."

"What?" David's voice was quiet as it sunk to a deeper level of anger.

"No, David. I didn't. I loved Alice, and I wanted to share my love for her in the best ways I could. We were happy, at times. But do you know what it was? Do you know what took your sister away from you and from me? The same reason you and I are standing here right now. The same reason you have that knife in your hand. The idea that we should be ashamed. Ashamed of the way we feel, what we fantasise about, what makes us come. That undeniable urge, expressed in different ways, but the same in everyone. And the more we accept that shame, the more we convince ourselves that we must fight our own nature, the more we twist into balls of hate and pain and loathing. For ourselves and for those who aren't restricted by the same so-called morality. That's the reason you didn't kill us when you saw us here in the summer. The reason you used to watch your sister through the crack in the bathroom door. We're all victims in this, David. You think cutting me out of this life like a cancer is going to save her, or you? You might as well cut yourself. Just like she did."

David snarled and lunged forward, bringing the knife up to Richard's throat. Richard's arms spread wide as if he accepted this fate.

"No!" Lucy screamed and he stopped but the blade still pressed against his throat.

"What is this?" David spat the words into Richard's face but they were directed at both of them. "You think this is love?"

"Yes," Lucy said quietly.

The monster looked round at her. 

"But you're a child. Don't you see how he's corrupted you?"

"I'm a woman and I make my own decisions. I chose him and he never forced me. This man has made me happier than I've ever been. And I know that he won't ever leave me. Don't take him away from me."

His resolve seemed to break as his brows softened for just a second and his knife hand lowered. But then his mouth trembled and he spoke.

"Disgusting."

His arm pistoned back behind him and then, in an instant that lasted an eternity of shocking pain, stabbed forward and the cruel blade pierced Richard's side with a wet snick. Richard's breath rushed out of him and he bent forwards like a deflating balloon into David with his hand on his shoulder.

Lucy knew it was her scream that tore the night but only later, in her nightmares. She gripped the rock behind her body, withdrew it with all her might from the sodden earth, brought it up before her and cast it at the monster that had destroyed all the joy and love she had left. His arm had withdrawn the knife from his enemy's side and was swinging forward again for another penetration when the rock struck the back of his head with a horrific crack and he stumbled forward into Richard, knocking them both to the ground. The knife tumbled from his fingers and embedded itself in the soil.

Lucy leapt towards her fallen lover, tears of fear and horror and shock running down her face. David rolled over as she approached and grunted, a deep animalistic sound, blood running from his mouth where he had bitten into his tongue.

Lucy pulled back from him and fell onto her backside. He crawled towards her over the body of her dying love, his laboured breathing rendered into deep guttural panting by his head injury.

She whimpered in panic and pushed herself back across the forest floor, her bare legs sliding in the mud. Her hand fell upon the rock where it had fallen and, without thought, with only the basic instinct of survival, she hefted it in her right hand, cast herself towards the insanity that approached and brought the rock down with all her strength onto the top of his head. There was no scream from him, just a deep moan as his head fell forwards into the mud but his hand found her throat and gripped like a vise before she brought the rock, now covered in dark and viscous blood, back down onto his skull. This time his scalp gave beneath the force of the rock and his hand instantly released as his body simply shut down and he limply collapsed to the ground.

She took gasping breaths and dropped the rock with disgust. There she sat for a moment before she became aware of ragged breathing.

"Richard!" She threw herself forward so that she was by his side. Her bloody fingers ran into his hair and his eyes opened. At first they only looked up but then they swivelled to regard her and focused.

"I'm..." His voice was barely audible beneath the falling rain. "I'm sorry."

"No... no," She frantically pulled off her sweatshirt and held it onto dark wound at his side. 

She looked about them and her eyes found her mobile phone lying on some dead leaves where the murderer had carelessly tossed it. She grabbed it and prayed it still worked, wet as it was. The screen lit up at her touch and she punched in the emergency number.

His fingers weakly gripped her own as the call went through.

***

Months passed. Months of staring at the peeling paint of the hospital walls, the police station walls, the psychiatrist's walls. Months of nightmares and sweat, when the leering grin of His face stretched into an oblivion from which there seemed no escape. Months of holding her love's hand, his eyes always closed, the respirator pumping beside the bed.

They didn't want her there. They wanted her to being taken into some sort of care. A hospice or flat where she'd have a woman to talk to and her meals made for her. But she refused and they couldn't make her. Couldn't make her do anything or go anywhere. College ended for her just as much as it had ended for him. Their sympathy and understanding only stretched so far for a teacher and pupil in love, no matter their ages. 

All the outstanding issues were taken care of for her. Her grandmother was buried in the local cemetery; David's was eventually cremated and given to his family. Her grandmother's will and estate was divided up between the taxman and herself. The newspapers had their fill and finally left her alone.

So there she sat, beside him, his hand in hers, and the whole universe condensed until it was just the two of them with the beep of his heart monitor as the soundtrack to their limbo existence.

"I miss you."

Her voice came out cracked with underuse and quiet with loss of hope.

"I love you. You made me the happiest woman in the world. Why can't we just be happy? Why can't we all just let each other find their own way? Be who they want and how they want and with whom they want? Life isn't fair... but only because we make it that way."

She lowered her forehead to rest on his hand and her tears fell silently onto his skin.




Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 06



Then his whisper, so quiet.

"Will you... marry me?"

His big fingers stretched and curled up to stroke her cheek and she wept but not with sadness.

"Yes."

The single word that changed that unfair world.

***

And so he recovered as best his body would allow and they moved together to where nobody knew their names. They put rings on each others' fingers, alone under the blossom of a tree in spring. She finished her education and cared for her broken love with the unending devotion and dedication which they shared. And there they lived, happily ever after...

THE END