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“Very well Fiona, I think we have come up with a suitable solution for you. Emma, please take Megan to the other room and prepare her,” commands Caitlin, her eyes glinting at the prospect of more fun. “Yes Miss Caitlin,” says Emma, moving closer to Megan – softly stroking her breasts and squeezing her bum as she guides her to another room. “I’m so sorry Megan,” she murmurs and she quickly restrains Megan into the stocks (a restraining device that holds the wrists and necks in a bent over position) and locking it shut. Emma kneels in front of Megan, kissing the soft, luscious lips passionately before putting a ball-gag in place, then standing up and calling to the others. Megan hears footsteps behind her, fully aware that her bum and pussy are completely exposed and that she is totally helpless – Miss Caitlin appears in front of her to provide a distraction as Becky leads a now blindfolded, and naked, Fiona to the sofa. Becky plants a kiss on Fiona as Emma and Caitlin work swiftly to. The other was a very tall black man with wide shoulders and narrow hips that indicated his athletic prowess. Fiona judged them to be both not yet 30 and most likely unencumbered by spouse or little ones. They were ogling the girls on the beach making whispered comments on their southernmost assets and the size of their boobs. She could not help but wonder how depraved their descriptive efforts really were. The truck was from a company a fair distance from the seaside village and she presumed they were on a quick round trip as soon as they could offload their cargo.Nonchalantly, she lowered her sunglasses and hiked up her wrap so her bottom was favorably displayed and walked past the truck making sure she did not make eye contact with either of the young men."Nice bum on yer, Mrs. Bet your hubby gets a fair share of that at night!"The black man laughed at his partner's humor and stared with dreadful intent right into Fiona's nervous eyeballs. She hoped he couldn't read her lack of.
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What am I talking about here?It was nineteen-forty-eight. I was one of those silly small-town girls who allowed her best friend to talk her into going to dance for newly commissioned officers at the local Army Depot. I was eighteen, didn’t know a daisy from a daffodil and was talked into spending a few minutes behind the camp canteen with a dashing brand new officer for a kiss and cuddle.I had scarcely received the kiss before the front of my dress was up to my waist, and my knickers pulled to one side. Quicker than you could say, Oxford and Buckingham Light Infantry, I was the recipient of an infamous quickie with a young officer who had his new uniform trousers buttoned up and was gone before I could drop my dress back down to my knees.A short time after that I was experiencing morning sickness.My Dad wasn’t talking to me. When he had to, he did it through an intermediary, usually my mother. As in, “Tell HER to put on some sensible shoes. Make sure that SHE looks presentable.”My dad.

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