Enid Blyton Discontinued Book Titles

The Children of Cherry tree farm keep their Cherries

Tammylans' real reason for living in a tree house is exposed and he goes to jail

The Wishing Chair Affaire

Feathered wings are kinky

The Put-Em-Ins

A group of village children get together to indulge the village in some good English Country fun

Buster and Timmy go to the Circus

They enjoyed watching Fenella ride the horse. Then they went and did it doggy style behind Mr Galliano's Caravan.

The Naughtiest Girl in the School

Elizabeth, Joan and Julian know how to 'Monitor' the situation

The Mystery of the Hidden Sausage

Cadet Fatty and Inspecter Jenks go to the pub for a pint of bitter and end up doing more than solving a mystery

The Secret of Spiggy's Hole

Four children have a remarkable adventure with a monkey

Noddy and Big Ears and the Rough Towelling Down

Noddy and Big Ears go on a picnic and get caught in the rain. What a to-do! Good thing Noddy has a little towel in his car!

Josie, Click and her Bun

Money is tight when you're a full time carer for a retarded rabbit, so Click pimps Josie doewn the docks

The Secret Island

Four children, a cow, some chickens, and not enough to do makes for some intersting reading

The Cave of Adventure

Kiki comes in a waterfall

Secret Seven Adventures in the Shed

Peter sat on an upturned flower pot in the shed at the bottom of the garden, flicking through a book.
"Oh i say, i'm bored," he sighed to himself. "I do wish there was something more to do."
Peter was cross. He glared around him at the room. He glared down at Scamper II. Scamper II wagged his tail at Peter.
"I liked Scamper I better," Peter grumbled. But Scamper I was long departed.

Footsteps were heard coming down the path. They stopped at the door and a sharp knock at the door.
What was this! Peter got to his feet and shot over to the door.
"Password!" he said in a soft voice.
A female voice replied.
"Peter, you open this door this instant!"
"Not unless you give the password!" he said, crossly.
"I'm not one of your stupid Secret Seven!" said the voice. "Open the door!"
Peter sighed and shock his head. He opened the door an inch or two, and peered out. Standing there was Jacks' little pest of a sister Susie.
"You know this is the Secret Seven shed, Susie," he said.
"Listen, Peter, you'd better tell me where my brother is or i'm going to...."
"What?"
"You just tell me!" Susie stamped her foot. WHat a nice little foot it was too. a lump of snow shot up and hit Peter on the shin, dousing his leg in a sudden cold.
Peter blinked.
"You had better come in...it's cold," he said.
Susie frowned at him and said "if i come in, you better not try anything."
"Why, what would i do?" asked Peter, crossly. He opened the door and grabbed Susie's arm and pulled her into the shed, closing the door behind him.

Susie stood in the middle of the little shed, frowing. When she was small, all she'd wanted to do was to join her brother Jack and his friends in their secret society. But that was years ago...before the war. Since then, the boys, and the girls too, had all gone off to London and Europe and fought and worked. Six came back. Poor Pam had been bombed right out of existance in London. It was said in the village that it would have been better if it had been Peter. A strong, grown up boy had gone to war, and a very odd man had come back from it.
A man who bought lots of leather and lots of rivets. No one knew what for, but he'd been very strange for the last few years.

This was not why Susie was frowing as she glanced around the little shed.

She was used to Peter's odd looks by now. So were everyone in the village. What was puzzling her were the trunks. In the room, she could see five trunks. large, travelling cases. Why would Peter need that many travelling cases? She'd never seen these before. And there was something else odd about them...if she could just put her finger on what it was...

"Would you like a biscuit?" asked Peter, offereing her a plate of ginger biscuits.
"No thank you," said Susie. Peter frowned.
"I said, would you like a biscuit," he said. He pushed the plate closer to her.
"I dont' want anything, thank you!" said Susie crossly.
"Have one, they're nice," said Peter. His voice had dropped rather low and he sounded menacing.
"Peter, all i want to know is what you've done with Jack. And Colin, and George and Janet and Barbara, for that matter! They visit you so often and then they vanish. Why, Jack didnt' make it to work on Friday, and Barbara was goign to go to town on Sunday and never turned up to the train station! And dont' tell me you're solving a mystery, because that's what you did years ago and you are all grown up now!"
There was a silence and Peter and Susie glared at each other.
"Well well well," said Peter, a smile lighting up his face. "Little Susie, all grown up. And looking for her brother. You know, there's only six of us now. If you wanted, you could be a member of the secret seven at long last...it was always your dream, you know."
"Grow up!" said Susie scornfully. "Child's stuff, that is! just tell me where..."

She broke off, startled by a noise coming from one of the trunks.
"What..." she said, going over to it.
Peter was too quick for her. He lept over and stood in front of the trunk.
"Sorry," he said, "you dont get to see what's int he trunk unless you join the club."
"Well...then, mabye I will..." said Susie, eager to see what was in the trunk. Another noise from the trunk which sounded very much like someone trying to say "NO!" came from it.

"Hey! i know that voice! That's JACK!" yelled susie and pushed past Peter and fumbled with the trunk lid.
Peter shrugged and stood aside while Susie opened the trunk.
Inside it was Jack. He was not wearing much at all, and his hands were tied behind his back. A curious ball attached to a bit of leather was strapped to his mouth. It was apparent to Susie just what Peter had been making with the leather and the rivets. She'd never seen so many straps in one place before.

"Jack, Jack, are you all right?" asked Susie, pulling the ball away.
"I'm fine, but you should get out of here while you can!" cried Jack. "Dont' joint the Secret Seven or he'll make you get in the trunks too!...and please dont tell me you ate the biscuits...he drugs them!"
"I didn't eat them!" cried Susie. "Look, i'll untie you..."
"No!" put the gag back on me, or he'll punish me," said Jack. "And shut me back up, i've been bad, i disobeyed him the other day and i deserve to be punished!"
"How? what? What do you mean, disobeyed him?" yelled Susie, startled.
"I poured the milk before the tea...it's one of the rules. i deserve it! Quick! Lock me back up!" he said desperately, an eye on Peter. Susie, in a trance, popped the gag back on Jack, and closed the lid of the trunk.

She turned and looked at Peter.
Peter looked pleased.
"At last you understand. They love it. they come to me and i punish them for things they do or dont' do. They are my submissives, i rule them. I'm benevolent of course, but they must have a strict master...Have a biscuit," he offered. "Tea? Here, take this." He held out a little badge with SS embroidered on it.
"I"m not going to be in your club," Susie told him.
"Yes you are," he said, and walked over to a flowerpot in the corner. She watched him as he took out various leather items and a pair of handcuffs.
"Peter, i've always despised you," said Susie. "You bossed aournd your silly club for years. You pretended you were all grown up and you meddled in silly mysteries and made yourself into a little tin pot village god. You ran a stupid club for my idiot brother and your friends who did whatever you said. Now you've got them (for it's obviousl the others are in the other trunks!) worshipping every thing you say and believing you're holy or whatever. Well, i'm not going to fall for this. I refuse to worship you."
"And why do you think I'm going to let you out of this shed?" asked Peter menacingly, coming towards her.
"Because," said Susie, not budging, her fists curled by her sides, "I've got a little trick up my sleeve!"
She reached out and gripped his shoulder and gave it a curious pinch. Peter turned white and collapsed on the floor.
"Besides, there's this new show called Star Trek and if you watched it rather than tying up your friends all day you'd know about the Vulcan Death Grip!" she said to his unconcious body.

******
There was a muffled noise from the trunk. Susie sighed and went over to it, and kicked it hard.
"what now?" she said.
"Can i come out now?"
"No."
"But i need to use the...you know"
"No! and you'd better not! Or you'll be punished!" she said, her mouth to the air hole. She heard Peter give an uncomfortable sigh as he tried to get comfortable.

Well, thought Susie, looking down at her SS badge on, I never thought i'd be running the Secret Seven one day. She looked around, satisfied, at all the trunks. Some were empty, but would be occupied again soon as the members returned to the shed after their work days. But the best trunk of all she kept just for Peter. He spent so much time being the top, he never knew what satisfaction there was being a bottom, she thought, as she carefully rubbed leather cleaner into the horsewhip she kept reserved.

What a jolly fine club this was!

Two find-outers , no dog, one truncheon.

Bets was bored. She sighed and looked around the common room.
"I'm bored," she announced to the room at large.
One of the other girls in the 6th form glanced at her and said, "Don't forget, we have that policman coming to give us a talk on 'Women in the Police Force' in a few moments.".
"Oooh!," said Bets, delighted. "I think that will be interesting! I used to solve mysteries on my holidays, with my brother and Larry and Daisy and..."
"...and Fatty and Buster the dog!" chourused the rest of the 6th formers. "WE KNOW!"
Bets laughed and together all the 6th trooped into the school hall and settled into a noisy bunch at the back of the room. Not, thought Bets, as noisey as the first formers. She remembered being a first former. When her father was sent abroad for his work, Bets and Pip were sent to boarding school. She hadn't been back to her village in six years, spending holidays with various relatives in different parts of the country, or in London when her parents managed to come back. She wrote letters to the other find outers, but the letters had been slowly getting less frequent. The old days when the find outers used to solve mysteries under the nose of Mr Goon, the village policeman, had faded into a dim memory. Now, she was a month of matriculating and would be attending university in scotland. she didn't know what she wanted to be yet. mabye the police talk would be useful to her.

A hush fell over the girls as two policeman mounted the steps of the little stage and walked towards the lectern. One was an older man who Bets found oddly familiar. The other walked like a younger man, and had bright red hair and a heavy pair of moustaches, so luxurious as to be amost funny. he was a heavyset man, his hat pulled down over his eyes. The older man with white peppered hair looked around the hall.
"Good morning, young ladies," he said. "My name is Chief Inspector Jenks."
Jenks! Bets sat up, openmouthed, as she stared at Chief Inspector Jenks. The find -outers old friend who looked after Petersbourough, who they'd helped solve mysteries for!
"We've come to talk to you about the possibilities of futures in the police force..." he continued, and talked for some time. He was an amusing talker, and the girls all appluaded with gusto when he'd finished.
As he was leaving, Bets rushed up to him.
"Chief Inspector Jenks!" she cried, "It's me, Bets!"
He grinned at her. "Ah, little Bets...or maybe not so little any more!" he said, taking her hand and shaking it. "Solved any mysteries lately? How about 'the mystery of the vanished hairbrush'. Or 'the mystery of the missing geometry book!' "
Bets laughed.
"I must introduce you to my sidekick...this is Constable...err...Fred...Frederson!"
C. Frederson took Bet's hand and shook it. "How do you do," he said and a squeaky little voice. Bets supressed a giggle.
Jenks gave her an unreadable look.
"I'm sure C. Frederson will be able to entertain you, I must go and speak with your headmistress," he said and abruptly took himself off.
Bets blinked, surprised. What was supposed to talk to this strange young policeman aobut? by now, everyone had left the hall and were no doubt tucking into cocoa and bread-and-dripping. It seemed rude to leave so she attempted to be polite.
"How long have you been a policeman?" she asked, looking up into his face. There was something disconcerting about the way he had his had pulled down low over his eyes.
"Not long," squeaked Frederson. He made a little sighing noise. "It's a lonely profession," he said sadly, looking at his shoes and rocking slowly on his feet. All his movements seemed eggagerated.
Bets starting feeling really strange watching him act, as though she'd seen this all before.
"And where do you work," she said, tryinig to see under his hat. her hand itched to twitch away the hat. There was somehting about that ginger hair that seemed...familiar.
"I work in a little village," sniffed Frederson. "It's very small. It's called....Goonsville."
"HUH!????" cried Bets, suspiciously.
The policeman started doing something very strange. He did a little tap dance and began to tug at his mustaches. they came of in his hand and he threw them at Bets. Then, still dancing, he tugged of his hat, revealing hair the colour of the same same tousled ginger wig that Fatty had used for years while pretending to be the butcher boy or the telegram boy. Frederson then pulled at his hair and it came right off, leaving underneath...
"FATTY!" squealed Bets, throwing down the moustaches and running and hugging him. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Constable Fredrick Algernon Trotterville, at your service," grinned Fatty down at her, his eyes crinkling into a smile as they had always done.
"But why?"
"Oh, CI Jenks knew where i was posted and telephoned me to tell me he was giving a talk at your school," he said, "and we decided we'd see if you could still see through one of my briliant disguises!"
"Still the same vain old Fatty,'"smiled Bets.
"Not quite the same old Fatty," he said, his eyes darkened slightly. "I've been in the police force for a few years now, Bets, i've seen a lot. Things that CI Jenks used to protect us from back in the old days." He sounded troubled. Bets lay her hand on his arm.
"I've missed you, Fatty," she said looking up at him.
"Have you, Bets?" he said soflty, his hand stroking her cheek softly. She rather liked it.
"Fatty?" she said, feeling a very strange melty feeling she'd not felt before.
"Bets!" murmered Fatty, bending over her.
His lips met hers and Bets found herself having her first kiss from Frederick Algernon Trotteville, aka Fatty.
Bets had known for years that Fatty was important to her. When she got to school, and started watching how other girls behaved over film stars or head girls, she had recognised her feelings for Fatty as a schoolgirl crush. Subsequently, her letters to Fatty had become a little stilted. She was sligtly ashamed of the way she felt and had been telling herself for years that Fatty would never be interested in her, Bets. Though every time she used his second-best propelling-pencil (her most treasured posession), she would get a little wistful.
Here he was, kissing her, and she was being swept off her feet. Literally.
"Er, Fatty, where are we going?" she asked as Fatty carried her out of the building.
He answered with a soft laugh, and carried her towards the police van parked outside.
Flicking open the back door, he carefully laid her down on the carpeted surface, climbed in, and closed the door.
"Fatty!" murmered Bets, "I had no idea you felt like this.."
"It drove me mad waiting till you were old enough," whispered Fatty, as he pushed her down and slid his body over her. "and you'll find i'm not overly Fatty anymore...all that police work!"
"So i see!" said Bets admiringly, running her hand along his back and buttocks, feeling the hard muscle under his police clothes.
"Now young Bets," he continued, his fingers tweaking open her school blouse and deftly removing it, "I'm going to educate you in the police force. Again and again, i think, you're a slow learner..."
"I am not!" muttered Bets, breathing in in schock as Fatty got out his truncheon and began to trace it over her body. He let it rest between her legs, and deftly removed the rest of her clothing. He smiled down at her, and lightly ran a finger over her nipples as they stiffened.
"Are you going to get undressed?" she aksed, looking at his looming body in the dark police uniform.
"...i don't think so, young Bets...not this time..." Fatty leaned over her and pressed himself against her, kissing her deeply. He moved his mouth over hers, then dropped to her neck and caressed it with his lips. Bets squirmed slightly, and protested "But that's not fair..."
"no such thing as fair," said Fatty, fumbling at his belt for a moment. Bets saw something gleaming in his hands and gasped in shock as he pushed her arms up, held them firmly and snapped a pair of handcuffs on them. She tried to move them but realised he'd locked her to a bolt in the car.
"Fatty!"
"You need to call me Constable Trotteville," Fatty told her, bending over her breasts and teasing her nipples with his tongue. "Or else i might have to arrest you..."
She moaned slighlty. As his teeth grazed her she felt a tightening along her stomach, all the way to her groin, which ached in antipation.
"Constabel Trotteville, you are a very bad policeman," she told him but the look of rapture on her face belied her words. Fatty laughed softly and began to stroke her body with the truncheon.
"I've never used it for this before," he said, letting it's leather covered form tickle her body. "Only for threatening jewel theives and other criminals."
He bent his head lower and touched at her thighs lightly with his tounge. She moaned and he licked in longer strokes, teasing her as she writhed slightly. parting her legs with his hands, he arranged himself between them as she curled them around his body.
"Mabye it should be used for this more often," he said thoughtfully, taking the truncheon and beginning to stroke her with it.
Bets gasped with pleasure and raised her hips towards the trucheon. She looked down and could see Fatty watching her with a satisfied look on his face. As she watched, she could see him wetting the truncheon with his tounge.
"OH!" she cried with anticipation
"Oh indeed!" he replied, and bent his head, his tounge flickering over her waiting bud. She felt a wash of pleasure shoot through her and uttered a broken cry. He stroked her rthymically with his tounge, and then she felt him push his finger into her and stroke it in and out, softly at first, then harder and longer strokes.
She began to moan. She could feel the muscles in her legs contract with delicious pain, as she began to move with his timing. Then, she felt a coldness as fatty withdrew his fingers and began to push the truncheon into her. It was large and hard and she cried with pleasure, in choking sobs, as fatty worked it in and out, licking at her the whole time. Waves of utter ecstacy shot through her as her orgasm began to take hold of her body, and she moaned and writhed in time to the thrusting of the truncheon. It was exquisite and her body ached with pleasure that seemed to end and then shot back into her in waves of delight.
"stop...stop...enough," she gasped but Fatty just laughed and slowed down slightly so that she could catch her breath. "Oh, that's so good," she said, as he began to move again, nuzzling his mouth over her and pushing and pulling at the trucheon, so that she began to peak again in waves of pleasure.
Eventaully he slowed and finally stopped. She lay exhaused and sated, heavily breathing, with a look of pure relaxation and pleasure on her face.
"Fatty, Fatty," she murmered softly as he moved his face up her body and kissed her lightly on the lips. He looked very proud of himself and had a wide grin on his face.
"Though you forgot to call me Constable Trotteville," he said sternly. "I may have to punish you for that. Mabye tomorrow, I don't feel like punishing you tonight..."
"Tomorrow? But i'm at school, what do you mean?"
"I've got a posting in the village here," he told her, watching her face intently as his words sunk in. "You can come and see me whenever you can get away from work..."
They looked at each other and grinned and then he lowered his head again and began to kiss his way down her body again.
As she lay there, her legs around Fatty's neck, Bets thought briefly of the days that had passed. All that mystery solving, all Fatty's tricks and disguises, and she'd been the most impressed. She knew now that Fatty had gone out of his way to make her admire him because he's been fonder of her than she ever imagined. She wondered if he still had his paper boy outfit. She rather fancied seeing him squeeze into those little grey shorts again.
SHe grinned to herself. At least in the last few weeks of school, she would no longer be bored, not with a young, talented village policeman just down the road....

The dream always began the same way. Moonface was back in his old room, in the Faraway Tree. He would go to the cupboard, and fetch the sugar and the vinegar. He then took up a saucepan and measured the ingredients for toffee shocks. Then, while he was getting ready for the secret ingredient (the one that made the toffee shocks explode), the pot would turn into Silky. He'd be stirring the toffee with a spoon one moment and the next, rubbing her tiny naked elfin body. He'd rub and rub and rub and Silky would moan and pant and then she'd reach for his zip and pull his trousers off. He wanted to tell her to stop, that it would hurt her, but in the dream, he could never speak, he'd just have to watch in horror as she began to lick him with her tiny little pink tongue. His hands would rub her slippery soft skin, he hair would tickle his balls, he fingers would stroke his stomach, her mouth would engulf his manhood. He'd be getting closer and closer to orgasm, his legs would cramp, and then, inevitably, he'd force himself to wake up.
Moonface woke up. He could feel the sweat slick on his skin. He could lick it from around his lips with his toungue, but his movements were hampered by the shakles holding him to the bed. One on each hand, one on each leg. The bed was iron, the room was a small white dormitory. A little window allowed him to see out to the green garden, when he could stand up. He groaned and lifted his head slightly - he could see his erection, but there was nothing he could do about it. He whimpered slightly in the cold early light, straining against the cuffs, knowing he only had to wait and eventually he'd be allowed up.
It was not until a few hours later that he heard the door being unbolted.
"I hope you had good dreams", said Dame Slap, waddling into the room. Her white bonnet was freshly starched, and she was holding a tapestry bag.
Dame Slap. Was she his tormentor or his saviour?
"Yes, mam," said Moonface dutifully.
SLAP!
"You lie, you had terrible dreams," said Dame Slap. "I heard you moaning during the night." She slapped him again and he winced slightly. Just enough reaction, he'd learned, was good. If he did not react enough, she'd slap him so hard that he'd be in pain. If he reacted too much, she'd give him something to react to, and that would hurt too. Pain was realtive, but Madame Slap was the master of it's administration.
"Anyway," continued Dame Slap, "I need some more toffee shocks. You shall make me an extra big batch today, the people from the Land of Free Love are coming to tea and i want to make sure they go home with something to talk about." She reached over and uncuffed him, starting on his legs. her bonnet strings ticked him slightly as she reached over him, but he knew better than to make a sound.
"You know what to do," she said. Moonface nodded, got up, and walked over the wall. He placed his hands carefully on the well worn patches on the wall, and stood carefully where he always did. She let him stand for a few minutes. He knew she liked to look at him, helpless and unbound except by his own acceptance of her dominance. He bowed his head slightly and waited patiently.
He heard her opening her tapestry bag, and the slight clinking noise as she took out the walking shackles. She snapped them on his ankles, and held the long chain which she then fastened to the hand cuffs. "Hand," she commanded and he dropped his hands, one by one, as she fastened them together with the chain. He could walk slowly, he could cook, but not much else.
She strapped on his leather harness, slapping him across his back as he moved slightly when the cold rivets touched his skin. She took up the long strap on the back of the harness. This allowed her to hold onto him firmly, and it also doubled as a strap if she decided he'd been naughty and needed more than a slapping.
"Kitchen", she said, and he turned and shuffled out of his dormitory, into the long, dark corridor that led to the kitchens.
When he'd first come here, there had been classes of unruly children and elven folk. Dame Slaps school was well known for breaking the spirits of the rudest fairy, the naughtiest brownie. He'd come here by accident, mistaking the land for that of 'take what you want', with those children, and Silky and her clock. They'd been forced to attend classes, and Dame Slap had doled out slaps when they'd got the answers to her questions wrong. They'd escaped in a small aeroplane, the others horrified with the school and delighted with their escape, but he'd been wistful. So he started coming back. Whenever the land was due, he'd tell his friends he was visiting a cousin, and he'd climb the ladder at the top of the tree, and Dame Slap would be waiting for him. At first, the visits had been short. She'd yell at him and slap him and he'd run off, back to the ladder. Then the visits got longer. He started staying overnight, tied to the bed. She'd slap him and slap him and the next day until him and he'd run to the ladder and escape. Then, one day, he showed her how he made toffee shocks. That was the turning point, he knew now. She loved them. She made him make batch after batch, until he could barely stand. Then, she refused to let him go when the land began to move away. He'd been horrified, and begged her to release him. He'd strained against the cuffs, trying to get out. She'd laughed at him and then slapped and pummeled him and led him to the dormitory and told him the rules. He was very naughty and deserved punishment and he was going to have to stay until he learned to behave.
"I'm not staying!" he'd told her, "My friends will come and get me!". Dame slap had smiled nastily and said if they tried, they'd have to stay, too.
"The school was good," she said, "but there's more profit for me in keeping naughty folk locked up. Children! Bah! I can't do anything with them. There are plenty of nice grown up folk wanting what i can offer them. So, if your friends turn up, i'll lock them up too. Imagine how good you're little elf girlfriend would look in a rubber suit. Imagine how she'd squeal when i slap her. Imagine how she'd cry when i cut off that silky hair of hers and braid it into a whip and slap her with it."
He imagined, and the thought of Silky and Saucepan locked up her with Dame slap made him sweat with horror.
And they handn't come to find him. They didn't know where to look. He hoped they didn't miss him too much, that they took over running the slippery slip and they didn't worry too much about where he had gone. His life now centered around his little room, if he was lucky, she'd come up with tasks for him to do, things that needed digging, pictures hung, walls painted, leather straps to clean. He cooked a bit, he gardened a bit (living in a tree meant he didn't know a lot about gardening much, though). He knew he wasnt' the only one here. at night, he could hear moaning and noises from dormitories around him. It was comforting, the knowledge that there were others like him around.
They had reached the kitchens.
"I want a good, potent, batch," said Dame Slap, glaring at him. She pointed at the pan, the toffee moulds, the sugar,vinegar, and a big jug of water. "You havn't done one in a while, you should be able to make them strong."
"Yes, Mam," he said and began to pour ingredients into the saucepan, then began to stir it over the flame.
Right. Toffee shocks. He remembered the others eating them with gusto. He remembered at first, how he'd felt when he started handing them out. Then they got popular. He was asked to bring them to parties and teas.
All he had to think about was Silky. Silky, he beloved little elf, who used to come to his rooms when the children were gone, and talk to him. Silky, who he loved but he couldn't touch, becuase he loved her too much. He didn't want to hurt her. Her little pointed face and ears, her cloud of golden soft hair. He moaned slightly and felt his erection returning. Ah, what a delightful feeling. He could touch himself now, he could come this time. The toffee mixture was bubbling. He had to time it right. If he added the 'pop' ingredient too fast, the toffees would explode as soon as you put them into your mouth. If he could delay it until the toffee began to thicken, and then stir fast, then they would be perfect. He thought of silky's hair, of touching it with his hands, he thought of how good it would be to feel her nipples harden in his mouth. Imagine her moans as he licked her body, as she convulsed under his hands and mouth. He stirred the boiling toffee with one hand while the other dropped to touch his swelling penis. Yes, this would be a good batch. there were some sugar crystals on his fingers, he could feel the roughness, dissolving as he gripped and strained at himself. Dame Slap was standing right behind him, holding the harness tight. He could her her breath on the back of his neck, and she began sofly to slap his backside, his thighs. Yes, that would do it. "Make them good," she breathed at him. "Or you're going to be in trouble."
He nodded, panting, as he moved his hand rapidly and rhymatically. The toffee was thickening, bubbles forming, the colour of them the colour of Silky's hair. He thought of his dream, with Silky's soft tounge touching his glans, and it was enough. He cried out as he orgasmed into the pot. The stuff steamed and bubbled, trying to explode. If he left it alone, it would, as soon as it left his body. He'd discovered by accident one day that sugar stopped the reaction, at least until you ate the sugar. Sometimes, it exploded before it hit the toffee. he had to position himself over the pot just so, too. Oh, this was a tricky operation, all right! He stirred furiously until the volatile stuff was all mixed into the gooey toffee mixture, and then quickly poured the toffee into the moulds.
There. It was done. And it was a large, potent batch. It always was, after one of those dreams.
He allowed himself to collapse onto the floor, and lay there, sighing softly to himself. Dame Slap was always good to him when he had just made toffee shocks, she allowed him some leeway. They waited there in silence while the toffee slowly cooled. This was part of the ritual. Then Dame Slap reached over and took picked up a toffee. She popped it into her mouth, and chewed. And chewed and chewed. He could see the distortion in her cheeks as it got bigger and bigger and bigger and then finally, when her jaw was straining and she was starting to look panicked, the toffe exploded into nothing in her mouth.
"You've been good," she said approvingly. "Those are very good toffees. My guests will enjoy them. I shall call them 'euphamism sweets', they can try and guess why. Now, get up. I'll let you run around the garden for a bit today, as a reward". He climbed to his feet and waited while she undid his shackles. "Go, before i change my mind," she commanded, and he shot out of the kitchen into the garden. He knew he had about five minutes before she would come looking for him, and if she had to come looking for him, she'd be very, very slappy.
He turned his moon face up to the sun, the grass soft under his feet. He remembered the look on Silky's face when he'd pushed her away that time. He'd hurt her by not loving her, but he couldn't tell her why he couldn't ever love her physically. His body ached for her, but if he'd stayed any longer living next to her, he would have given into the desires of his body, and he would have hurt her, like he did to that cute little visiting goblin who never walked again.
He sighed and slowly walked back to his room. Maybe he'd dream of Silky again tonight. Mabye.

Mirabel's Birthday Feast
or
Claudine Does St Claires

(This relates to chapter 15 of Claudine at St claires. The girls have snuck away to have a midnight feast by the pool, and Claudine has just locked matron in the cupboard and is off to see what Eileen is doing)

Claudine's heart was beating fast as she hurried back to the pool at midnight. Matron would not now spoil the girl's fun! But where was Eileen going? Softly running on her rubber soled shoes, Claudine sped off in the direction she'd seen Eileen slipping away. SHe could hear faint sounds of the girls enjoying themselves by the pool. She didn't mind missing out on the swim, and food at midnight made her feel slightly ill. At the french convent school, she'd often at night crept behind the alter in the church to nibble at purloined holy wafers. Food was hard to come by. Holy wine tasted dreadful, too. The girls there were pious and well behaved, all but Claudine. Claudine preferred this so strange english school where manners were freer and there were sweets and cake distributed by girls on their birthdays. As well as the St Claire's birthday tradition....
Claudine liked birthdays in this english school.
She had been running along the little lane that ran behind the trees, and noticed a white figure in front of her. Claudine recoginised Eileen and sprinted faster. The games mistress would have been surprised at the amount of speed Claudine could put in for a good cause!
She reached Eileen and called her name softly.
Eileen stopped dead and turned to stare at Claudine. "Why are you following me?" she demanded, "Leave me alone?"
"Where do you go to at this time?" asked Claudine, her face white in the moonlight, reaching out for Eileen.
"Nowhere...I felt like a walk. Leave me alone! What are you doing here?" accused Eileen. She tried to shake Claudine's hand from her arm but couldn't. They both stood their breathing heavility from the excercise.
"I am awake, and I think Oh! It would be nice to walk in the so-nice moonlight", grinned Claudine. "And then I see a person also walking in the moonlight and i think, this person, she needs company. And i follow you and here i am, you see!"
Eileen was forced to laugh. She rather liked Claudine, for all her strange french ways. "Please promise not to tell my mother, Matron, but i was going to visit Eddie," she said suddenly. "But i'd rather walk with you. "
"Let us walk, then, without a mistress to tell us to collect nature samples, or walk faster or the sun to give us a freckle," agreed Claudine. She wound her arm in Eileens and the girls strolled together, talking and laughing softly. She would not tell Eileen she'd just locked matron in a cupboard. Matron could stay there until morning for all Claudine cared - she could stay there until next half term!
"EEk!" cried Claudine suddenly as her foot caught in a tree root. She tumbled forward, pulling Eileen with her. The girls rolled into a laughing heap at the side of a path, Claudine landed on top of Eileen.
"And i say to myself, this so-english Eileen, she is lonely," Claudine said softly, her lips close to Eileen's ear.
"I am lonely," admitted Eileen. "I tried to make friends with Alison but she's so full of Angela. Can't she see beyond Angela's lovely face?"
"Angela, she is a demon," whispered Claudine. "Alison will have her heart broken. You should look around you, there are other friends you can have. Me, I have no friend. Hilary I like but she is not interested in the little Claudine, she likes the luxury of twins. Me, I am also lonely at this school and me, I like the little lonely Eileen..."
She cupped Eileen's face in her thin white hands and touched her lips against Eileens. As she had expected, eileen responded with abandon. The kiss was deep and lingering. Eileen's hand slid over Claudine's back, down to her legs, and worked it's way up her dressing gown.
"We should be special friends," breathed Eileen. she pulled at Claudine's dressing gown, who with a fluid movement removed it. Claudine was now wearing only her bathing suit.
"You seem to be well dressed tonight," whispered Claudine, and threw Eileen's coat into the bushes. Eileen giggled.
"You need to do something about that," she said.
Claudine ran her hand over Eileen's jersy, pausing on her breasts, swelling softly under the harsh knitted fabric. Her fingers stopped and she felt Eileen's hardening nipples barely. she pulled the jersey over her head and it followed the coat. Eileen was wearing her bodice.
"You did not remember to wear your blouse today, take an order mark against the form," said Claudine severely. Eileen lay on her back and cirlced around claudine's waist, her hands busily touching Claudine on her arms, neck, and face. She tugged at the fastening on Claudine's bathing suit. The straps gave and Claudine's slender while body gleamed in the moonlight. Eileen pressed her mouth to claudine's dark circular nipple, grasping the ohter breast in the other hand.
"You english girls, you like the sport and you like to be honourable," groaned Claudine, as her nipples were pinched and suckeld, "but never, until the first birthday, did i know how you all like to celebrate the birthdays. Me, I like to celbrate like that all nights. But you english girls, you only do this on special occasions."
Eileen shifted her body slowly down Claudines, to her small belly. Her small pink toungue worked over Claudine's beautiful soft skin. somehow claudine had managed to remove more of eileen's clothes until she was left only wearing her thick black stockings and garter belt. Claudine seemed satisfied with this.
"True," she said, not giving the matter the consideration it deserved as she positioned herself within better reach of claudine. "But it makes the birthday celebration that much better when it's all saved for the right occasion!"
She thought back to earlier in the term, when Doris had had her birthday night. As a rule, the birthday girl could choose what theme the night would take for her birthday treat. Doris had been known before to perform wild antics with a ginger beer bottle, and it had been no surprise to anyone that she chose ginger beer bottles for her birthday 'treat'. The girls had thought up all sorts of interesting ways to use ginger beer, including, as Pat had said to Janet, a "really super way of shaking up the bottle so it fizzed and then holding it just....so!" Janet's squeals had woken some of the third formers in the next dormy and they'd come to investigate. SOme of those third formers had had a bit of a shock when coming to investigate, but had since then taken every bit of noise from the fourth form as an excuse to 'investigate'
Eileen nibbled her way down to Claudine's soft silky hair. It smelt musky, delicious. she buried her face in it and felt the soft slipperyness of claudine, and she began to draw her tounge over her. "Wait," said Claudine and twisted her body around so that she could reach Eileen. The girls both sighed with delight as they both worked on exiting the other.
Two bodies, entwined in the moonlight, one slender and nude, the other firm, well shaped, with black stockings on. Hands, one pair soft from care, one roughened from helping wash linen and mend things, stroked each others bodys, stroked each other's sex. Both girls were moaning and panting, toungues working hard as they groaned and cried out, working each other into transports of delight. Claudine climaxed first, eileen's strong pink tounge casuing waves of ecstacy to cramp her toes, to work their way up her legs, and a spreading, convulsing warmth to explode along the length of her. She jerked and writhed but kept licking at eileen, sure in the knowledge taht the stockinged girl was close. She was correct, Eileens' moans got louder and more abandoned and she suddenly suddered under claudine, who pushed her fingers into eileen, feeling her muscles writhe and ripple around her. Both girls were now crying and moaning, wet with each other, scented with each other.
Finally they slowed down and were still. They lay together, breathing softly, hands clasped, fingers rubbing against fingers. Silently, they helped each other find their shed clothing, and dressed each other, pausing to lick or nibble or rub or just touch.
Slowly they walked back towards the school, hands clasped in the moonlight.
They could hear the sounds from the pool. Instead of the splashing and laughing and good natured ragging that had occured before, they could hear the occasional cry and groan.
"they're not finished yet", said Eileen.
"This will mean that the dormitory, it will be empty, yes?" suggested claudine. Her finger touched eileen's cheek.
"We might wake the third formers," said Eileen, taking Claudine's finger in her mouth and sucking slightly.
"This would not be a tradgedy," agreed Claudine, and the two girls ran lightly towards the school, giggling softly.

"A morning Bathe"

Julian dived into the pond, stroking across the water vigorously. It was cold and bracing.
"Just the morning for a bathe", he told himself as he surfaced, treading water in the middle of the pond.
It was the third day of the hols. The five had managed to persuade Uncle Quentin and Aunt Fanny that it would be good for them to go on a cycling holiday together. After promising to take care of the others, they had agreed that Julian could lead them. So far they had ridden their bicycles through country lanes, camping by streams at farms and buying their food in small villages. Last night they’d found themselves next to a glorious pond, which, as Dick pointed out, would be super to go for a morning bathe in.
"They’re all lazybones", thought Julian, splashing across the pond with a strong arm. Julian was in the second swimming team at school, and would be in the first next term, he was certain. His swimming coach, a chum of his called Lewis major, had promised him a place on the team, one hazy, blissful day in the boxroom during the last summer term. Julian smiled at the recollection as the cool water ripped over his hardening boy/man body. He had learnt more than swimming from Lewis major.
A shadow fell over the pond. He squinted through the glorious sunrise and saw that it was George, still fuddled slightly from sleep, who had crept down to the waterside to watch him bathe.
"What’s the water like, Ju?" she called softly.
"Delicious!" he called back. "Come in for a bathe! Are the others up yet?’
"No, I left Anne asleep, and you know Dick, he’ll sleep in till 8 o’clock if we let him!" said George. The sun glinted around her in a halo. Julian watched as she slowly began to remove her pyjamas.
He blinked when he realised that she was wearing nothing underneath.
"I say, George," he began, and then stopped, mouth ajar as she slid out of her pyjama bottoms.
"You’ll catch a fly in that mouth unless you close it," she grinned at him, and stretched out her arms over her head, turning slightly so her body was in profile against the sun touching her body.
"Perhaps I should say, Georgina!" said Julian appreciatively. George, who liked to call herself a boy and cut her hair like a boy, was in the bright light, obviously not a boy. Her small, high breasts looked delicious, like an icecream waiting to be licked on a hot summer’s day. Without her shorts and boyish shirt on, she was delicately shaped, long and brimming with curves and shadowed places.
"Come in, the water’s fine" he said softly, swimming towards her with long strokes. She began to wade into the water.
"Ju, you liar, it’s cold in here," she said, her nipples hardening to sharp points. Julian found himself feeling very like he did when Lewis major had taken his hand and rubbed his finger along him arm, whispering "why Julian, look at those muscles. You’re a natural athlete. Let me show you games you never imagined".
He slid up to George, and stood up, water sheeting from his young/old body, strong from games and swimming and more games. He reached out for George.
"Here, I’ll warm you", he said pulling her body that in no way resembled a boys to his. Her waist was small, her hips swelling, her legs long and strong from all that lacrosse and horseriding. He held her soft warm body against his and circled his hands on her waist.
"You’re cold, and wet!" she said, but denied this by pressing into his body. "And I’m warm and waiting".
"You are that", murmured Julian into her ear, his mouth pressed against her cheekbone. She turned her head to his and their lips met softly at first, then pressing insistently against hers. Julian experienced a sense of shock when she licked her tongue against his, and drew back slightly.
"Ju, Ju," she said shaking her head, a glint in her eye. "All those French lessons and you’ve never learnt the more important things. Maybe I’m lucky that French niece of Mamzelle’s came to our school last year."
"What did mamzelles’ niece teach you then?"
"I’ll show you", said George, smirking, and dropped her head to Julian’s nipples and began to suck, her hand working it’s way into his bathing suit at the same time.
Julian experienced a wash of pleasure at George’s teeth grazing his body. Her hand insistently began to remove his suit, unsnapping the shoulder straps and tugging it over his body. He slid out of it and threw it onto the little shore and picked up George and strode to the shore furthest from the tents where his sleeping brother and sister lay.
The bank was grassy and sunlight, but secluded from the tents. Julian laid her down and began to kiss her breasts, pinching her hardened nipples between his fingers, licking her neck, down to her small round stomach, flicking his tongue over her waist, towards her mound of delicately curled hair. She began to moan slightly and slid her hands over his back, pressing her body against any part of him she could touch.
Their breathing was heavy, it reminded Julian again of that afternoon in the boxroom, where he had been shown such delights by Lewis major, who had dropped to his knees and taken Julian’s privates into his mouth and sucked and licked. Julian’s prior non-private experience had previously been when he’d joined in the sessions in the changerooms after rugger, where the boys had played themselves off to see who would last the longest. Moaning and enjoying was not the way to behave in the rugger change room, though he’d learnt technique while pretending to not watch the other boys. His own hand, while adequate, was nothing on Lewis major’s hot, probing tongue against the bulging rod of manhood. He’d come on Lewis major’s face, who then rubbed it back into Julian’s body and made him lick it off, and instructed Julian on reciprocation.
Here now was George, who he’d seen naked before during bathes, but he’d never considered her as an object of desire. She was…George, his younger cousin, a bit annoying, a bit of a chum, very plucky. And now full of panting desire. He wasn’t sure what to do with her. He’d always heard women were not interested in sex, which is why he’d started on Lewis minor, Lewis major’s younger brother, currently Julian’s fag. Lewis minor had a skill whereby he could toast bread at the fire while Julian rammed into him, without dropping the toasting fork. A good skill in one’s fag. One could then get him to clean one’s shoes using the spent seed mixed in with the polish. Julian’s Latin teacher had complimented him on the shine in his shoes only last week.
And here was George, grasping Julian’s hand and pushing it against her. Julian, licking, prodding, rubbing her pert, small breasts with his mouth, was at first startled to find how wet she felt and probed a little deeper. She groaned, a deep throaty noise that worked at Julian’s erection like that time that Lewis minor spread the anchovy paste over his penis and used it as a knife to spread the toast, later offered to the head boy who complimented Julian on the brand of paste as he liked it salty.
Julian pushed his fingers into her hot, slippery passage, and she cried out sharply in delight. "Please," she said, her head with its boyish haircut lolling to the side, her hands working over his back and buttocks, "Please!" Ju knew instinctively what to do. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of her body, in a soft, fast rhythm. Her hips bucked and her fingers found his buttocks and began to stroke his nether region while she panted and let out little moans. He let out a startled cry and pushed his hand harder into her, against the small mound at the top of her slit. It was so different with Lewis minor, who he got to rub butter into himself before he mounted him, George was so wet and ready and he could kiss her face and throat and breasts while he worked on her. Her body started jerking in strong, arching movements as she stifled a groan with her hand and he kept working against her, marvelling at her abandon, wanting more himself. She writhed and pushed against him and he began to remove his fingers.
"No, Ju, please, keep up," she begged, but he grabbed her wrists, pinned her to the long sweet grass, and loomed over her, ready to explore her with his hugely erect member. He slid down her body, and arranged himself over her. For a moment there was silence as they stared at each other, both breathing heavily, their young bodies dripping with sweat and pond water. He pushed up against her hole, and started to edge his way into her. Finding the way so easy, he plunged into her, hard and deep. She cried out and her body convulsed against his, her deep hole rippling in waves of pleasure around his ripe male strongness. He groaned and thrust slowly, moving his body in the accustomed strong but careful waves.
"Faster," she whispered at him, eyes caressing his her hands pinned by his, her legs curling around his waist. He pushed harder and her heels bumped the small of his back, her waist lifting off the grass. "Harder," she said between clenched teeth. With a noise of pure joy and release, Julian pushed harder into her waiting body, and then began to move faster, at first carefully and then in a frenzy, her animal cries in his ear. He felt her waves of ecstasy against him, felt her stomach clench and her legs stiffen, felt each new contraction as her orgasm reached it’s peak. He felt himself moving towards his climax as she moved beneath her, and finally exploded, shuddering, into her receptive warm body. He threw his head back and gave a cry that seemed to bounce back from the sky above his head.
They lay together, entwined and mingled. Their bodies began to soften as their mouths moved softly over each other’s faces and necks and shoulders, and finally he withdrew from her, both gasping softly, as though in regret at losing such intimacy.
"I say, George," he said, "That was scrumptious.""Girls are different," she said softly to him, her brown eyes meeting him. "Even girls who want to be boys don’t make very good boys".
"I’m sure you’d make a good boy," he whispered at her, "Next time I’ll show you how". Their fingers touched and twisted together.
"JU! GEORGE! Where are you? I’ve just fried us some eggs and bacon and tomatoes and Dick’s boiling the kettle. Come in from your bathe!" yelled Anne from the distance.
The others were awake, then.
Julian and George looked at each other.
"Same time tomorrow morning?" he asked, cocking he eyebrow at her. "Or we could share a tent tonight, Dick can go in with Anne."
"Tomorrow," promised George. "And I share a tent with Anne. I always have. I don’t’ want to miss out on my nights with Anne!"
And with a laugh at the startled look on Julian’s face, she drew away from him, and plunged into the pond, yelling "Coming, Anne my favourite girl-cousin!". Julian gave a short laugh, and followed her to breakfast.