Debbie, Crane driver

Debbie, Crane Driver

Synopsis

Debbie finds that getting to the top in a man's profession can be a difficult and painful experience.

 

Debbie, Crane Driver

by obohobo

 

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

MF NC. Spanking

If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

Copyright 2006

 

To:

Caroline Bates

Editor, High Girl

Strand, London

Dear Caroline,

It was great to meet up with you again after so many years and it pleased me greatly to learn how you had been able to get on in your chosen profession to become editor of a prestigious magazine. Still you always were the clever clogs in school. I was only a little jealous of that, I much preferred to be doing practical things while you always had your head in a book. It was a rather strange relationship we had. What a pity we couldn't talk for longer in the café and find out how each other's lives fared after I was moved to the posh girl's school. You seemed to hear of some of my exploits from the newspaper reports but I'd completely lost touch with you and what you did. Maybe you and Geoffrey would like to come over for dinner sometime and we can do some more catching up.

You asked me to write the story of how I became a tower crane operator (driver), and most of the writing has actually been done on my laptop whilst sitting in my cab waiting for orders from the ground crew. The manuscript is, I know, far too long and is intended more to bring you up to date with my life from when our paths parted. You did ask me to give all the sexual details so I hope you won't find them too explicit. You will have to edit them considerably for use in the magazine otherwise you could end up with a libel suit. Please omit all references to Lord Brackenbury's family so as not to cause offence to them. I have no objection at all to you using my name or any of the others contained within.

Please let me know if you decide to publish the article(s) and when they are likely to be found on the bookstalls.

Yours sincerely.

(Signed), Deborah Wesley-Harris

 

Hi, I'm Deborah Wesley-Harris, usually everyone except my family and their posh friends call me Debbie, Deb or Debs. I'm twenty-eight years old and I'm employed as a 'builder' or perhaps more correctly, a 'civil engineer' with Hanson and Weeks, a firm specialising in restoration of churches and cathedrals and other ancient buildings and the building of huge shopping malls and office blocks. Yes, I actually work on the buildings, laying stone and bricks and humping mortar and concrete or doing whatever else needs to be done. At least that used to be my main job, now I drive cranes, usually one of those tall tower cranes you see looking like flimsy toys on the skyline. Not the normal sort of job you would expect a woman of my so-called 'breeding' to do but I've been with the same firm for ten years now and have risen in status from labourer to their chief crane driver. It's a job that I enjoy doing and is far removed from the plans my parents had for me. When I was eighteen I finally rebelled against them and decided to go my own way. For the previous five years I attended a private school for girls where the emphasis was on academic education, which bored me stiff especially as the only subject I excelled in was handicrafts particularly pottery but we only had one hour a week at that. Early on at that school I kicked against the system and paid the price but I was able to get some concessions. When my education looked likely to end without sufficient grades to get into a good university, or indeed any university, I decided to take a civil engineering course. My parents practically disowned me and it was our housemaid that persuaded them to let me do the course. It was only the fact that I am a fairly attractive woman who, in their minds at least, might be persuaded to use her wiles to marry the unsuspecting son of some nobleman or other, that they didn't throw me out of the house there and then. Not that would have mattered; I have enough money of my own from an inheritance, that I have no need to work for a living.

So why did a rich, or at least well off, young lady decide to become a labourer doing manual work alongside burly men on the hurley-burley of large building sites with men who swear and use crude language in their general speech? I guess the answer to that goes way back to my childhood and to a stubborn streak in my nature.

My parents, Roger and Emiline, (never are the names shortened), made their money from dot-com enterprises and are now part of what is termed the 'nouveau rich'. Both are highly skilled in computer / Internet management and academically brilliant. Unfortunately for much of my childhood, and even now, they are frequently away from home. Cecelia, my older sister by six years, is much more glamorous than I am, and has an outgoing personality. She's more of a socialite too and is always concerned over her appearance. In many ways she takes after my mother and seemingly flew through the courses at university and came away with an honours degree. Through the hi-tech consultancy job she obtained, she met Pierre, a wealthy Frenchman and moved to Lyons to live with him. Again this wasn't really what our parents wanted but they had to accept it and found that the contacts she made with Pierre's rich friends helped their business. I was expected to follow her through university but even in Junior school I was only a mediocre student. Much of my childhood therefore was spent alone in our big old house. Well not really alone because 'Auntie Laura' was always there to look after me. Certainly she was more of a mother to me than my real one.

Auntie Laura was not a real aunt but I always called her Auntie, (and largely still do even though she tells me not to), when she was really only our live-in cook, housekeeper and a nanny for me in my early years. She's a big, friendly woman and didn't mind when I wanted to help in the kitchen and encouraged me with any craftwork I wanted to try. She didn't stand for any nonsense from me though, and several times I felt her hard hand on my bare backside. It was perhaps one of these spankings that got me into my building career.

I was about eleven years old and during the summer we employed a local jobbing builder to replace a dilapidated fence with a brick wall. There were only a couple of workers, one laying the bricks and another making up the mortar and doing the pointing. It was the start of our long summer vacation and Auntie Laura made tea at morning break and I went with her to take it to the workmen. We were surprised to find a lad of about my age there too, practicing laying some of the bricks. Auntie told me to run and get another mug of tea and more biscuits for the boy. When I returned I learned his name was Michael and that he was the son of the bricklayer. I watched him for a while and said, "I bet I can do that as well as you."

"Not in those clothes you won't," his father said.

"Well I'll have to go and get my 'clay-clothes' then," I retorted. My 'clay-clothes' were smock type overalls that I used for pottery and other messy work. It wasn't quite as easy as I thought, but after being shown a couple of times I could lay them as well as Michael. I suppose now with all the health and safety at work regulations, neither of us would have been allowed anywhere near to the site, but then it didn't seem to worry anyone. By mid afternoon my hands were quite sore from handling the bricks but I was determined not to give up and I think Auntie realised this and called me in to help in the kitchen when she brought out the afternoon tea.

For the next couple of days, I 'helped' build the wall whenever I was allowed and in the end, Bert, (Michael's father), admitted he couldn't tell which bricks I'd laid or where my pointing finished and Harry's, (the other man on the team), started. Mind you, Bert laid about ten bricks to my one! I also learned of some of the other practices that went on. Like how the men disappeared behind a bush when they wanted to pee. In those days there were none of those little chemical toilets that we have now. I even did the same and no one remarked on it. It was at that time that I got my first sight of a man's prick. Harry had gone for a pee and not knowing I walked around the bush and caught him in full stream. He didn't bother to turn away but after a few seconds, I did.

Michael and I got on quite well together even though there was considerable rivalry as to who laid the most bricks and who kept them in the straightest line. However, on about our fourth or fifth day, we were sat side by side pointing some of the work we'd done. Bert and Harry were making concrete ready to pour the next length of foundations. Pointing is a pretty boring job but one that Harry didn't seem to mind; he would sit for hours carefully filling and smoothing all the joints to a neat bevel. Suddenly a small dob of mortar landed on my smock and when I looked at Michael, he just grinned. For ever afterwards he staunchly refuted any suggestion that he did it deliberately but I thought he had so I flicked a bit from the end of my trowel on to his overall. Of course that led to a miniature battle with larger amounts of mortar being projected. Inevitably Bert caught us but by then we'd gotten the mortar all over us and in our hair. As was the fashion at the time, Michael's hair was shoulder length like mine.

Bert was not best pleased I can assure you and marched us both into the kitchen. "These two little buggers have got themselves into a mud fight Laura. Sorry to trouble you but would you mind if they use the sink to get the mortar out of their hair before it sets? I don't know what started it all and we'd only turned our backs for a few minutes and they were shying the stuff at each other. I can tell you there'll be one young boy who goes home tonight with a sore arse." Bert was not one to mince his words even when children were present.

"And there'll be a girl whose bottom will match it," Auntie Laura stated. She made us take our overalls off outside and then I had to wash Michael's hair and he mine. "Come back at break time and have your tea here and we'll deal with this pair then." Both of us apologised profusely, but it made no difference. Auntie Laura stood us in opposite corners until Bert and Harry came in for their tea. I was very worried. I'd had a few smackings from Auntie and she'd always put me across her lap and took down my knickers so she could lay the slaps on my bare bottom. "Will she do it like that in front of the two men and Michael?" I wondered and it was this thought that caused me more concern than the actual spanking, at least until I felt her hand. The answer was yes and she left me in no doubt that if I made a fuss, I would get more.

"I think we'll make it ladies first," she said when Bert and Harry were seated with their tea. "Come here Debbie, over my lap. You know the drill." I noticed she positioned herself so my bottom faced the men and also Michael who had turned round so he could see. No doubt she wanted to embarrass me a bit too. Seconds later my working trousers were around my knees and my knickers joined them. I know I blushed because at eleven, I had begun to know a bit about boys and was very shy about showing myself to them. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Auntie Laura seemed to be hitting harder than she'd ever done. Perhaps she was showing off in front of the men. Whatever, I was soon howling. Fortunately it didn't go on for too long, but my bottom was extremely sore and red when she'd finished.

One thing about Auntie's punishments, once they were over, that was it. Finish. She let me down and gave me a cuddle but didn't attempt to pull my trousers up and my bottom was too sore to even think about scraping the elastic of my knickers over it. I heard Bert order Michael to drop his trousers and pants and I turned to look. I caught a quick glimpse of his semi-erect prick and wondered if seeing me being spanked had caused it to harden. He draped himself quickly over his father's lap I think to hide his embarrassment from me. Bert wasted no time in pasting his bottom really hard and soon Michael was sobbing. I felt really sorry for him. When he stood up, I noticed his prick was soft again but his bottom was fiery red and I wondered if mine was the same colour. It certainly felt like it.

"Pull your trousers up now Debbie and go and give Michael a hug to show that there in no ill feeling between you," Auntie Laura ordered. There wasn't any ill feeling anyway, at least not against each other. I suppose it was more against the adults who had spanked us for what was really only a game. We were allowed our tea and biscuits then and apart from our sore bottoms, things seemed more or less back to normal. Afterwards I was made to wash Michael's overalls and he had to do my smock.

"Will your dad let us continue working with him?" I asked as we hung the clothes on the line.

"Probably that will depend on whether he tells mum or not Deb." Michael answered.

Bert was non-committal when I asked him. "I will think about it over the weekend," was all he would say.

On Monday when Michael came to collect his overalls I thought we were forgiven and was surprised when Bert stood us side by side and gave us another lecture on how we should behave. Then he went on, "I'm going to give a chance to prove yourselves and to see if you can work together. Debbie, your dad has asked us to put in one of these new barbecue things. He wants a brick one like this." He showed us a drawing which we didn't understand until he did a rough sketch of the finished job. "First you'll need to peg out the site and then remove the turf to a depth of six inches. I'll want to check each stage so there's no mistakes..." He went on to give us detailed instructions on preparing the base. By the end of the day we were very tired and Harry had to help us shovel the sand and cement into the mixer but we got the base poured and tamped down. Bert praised what we had done so we felt very proud. "You can have a day off tomorrow," he told us, "The concrete won't be hard enough to do anything else." We completed the barbecue over the coming week and it is still there today, although the metal grill has rusted away.

I suggested to Michael that we might go and see my Uncle Joseph on our free day. He was a real uncle, my father's oldest brother and a keen model engineer and metalworker. He'd retired some time ago and lived alone in a large house across the fields from my home. Most of his time was spent in his very well equipped workshop. I loved that place and in the holidays, often visited him and he allowed me to use some of the machinery, particularly his Myford lathe. I had a little platform he'd made so that I would be high enough to use it and was in the process of making a simple oscillating steam engine. It was far removed from the traction engine and steamroller that he'd made or the triple expansion marine engine he was working on at that time. Yes, I knew the terms even if I wasn't too clear on what they meant and I was able to show off my knowledge to Michael. He seemed impressed by the workshop facilities but not by the state of the house when we went into the kitchen.

On the way home I had my first sexual experience with a boy although it was really only a minor one but I remember it clearly. It started innocently enough when Michael asked, "Has the redness in your bum gone?"

"Yes. Has yours?" We walked on a few steps and I asked, "Did seeing me being spanked make your Willie get hard? Did you see my…?"

"Cunt?" Michael used a word that I thought very rude. "Yes, I saw it especially when you kicked your legs but I didn't get a good look. I'm sure it made my prick start to stand up. Did you get a good look at me? I kept trying to hide it but forgot when Dad beat my arse."

"Like you, I only got quick glimpses," I admitted.

Again we walked on and then he said, "Would you like to see my prick? A proper look? No one will see us if we go into the copse and down by the stream."

I can remember being strangely excited but it was some time before I said, "Yes. Will you want to see me?" Of course he did.

We found a sheltered grassy bank by a small stream but we were both hesitant to actually show the other until Michael said, "I need to piss and I'm going to do it into the water. You can watch if you want." To my surprise he turned his back on me and slipped his shorts and pants off instead of just opening his flies. Later he confessed he did it so that I would have to do the same. He didn't think he would get a good look at my slit if I only lowered my shorts enough to pee. There was no sign of his spanking on his white bum. His little prick had already started to harden and he held it so I could see and I watched as he used to it to hose his urine in patterns into the water. I felt a little jealous of the way he could play with his and wondered what it would be like have a prick and to be able to swish my pee around. "Your turn," Michael said when he shook the last few drops into the gravel at his feet.

When it came to the crunch, I almost didn't do it but knew I would have to put up with a lot of taunts if I didn't. Like him, I turned and slipped off my shorts and knickers before walking to the water's edge and crouching down. It took me a little while before I could pee and in the meantime, Michael knelt down so he could see between my legs. Finally I was able to pee into the gravel and by the time I finished Michael's prick was standing up and rigid. He stood so I could see it in all its glory. "Do you masticate it?" I asked. I was fairly well educated in what boys and girls did together from school talk but I'd no practical experience.

Michael laughed at me. "You mean masturbate. Wank. Yes. Do you?" I just nodded, yes. In truth I had only recently discovered the pleasure of rubbing my clit. "Show me what you do," he almost ordered me but there was a questioning tone in his voice.

After hesitating for a bit I answered, "Only if you show me how you do it." Probably it was more the feelings I was experiencing between my legs from seeing a boy's hard prick for the first time that decided me. The grass was warm and I sat and spread my legs and rubbed myself. Michael started to wank himself too and I watched as he pushed his foreskin back and forth at quite a speed. "Can I do that to you?" I asked.

"Only if I can do it to you." He paraphrased my words. It wasn't long before we masturbated each other but it was still a surprise when he spurted his spunk in the air and over my hand. "That's what makes babies if it goes up inside you," he informed me in a knowing way. I made him continue playing with me until I had a climax although he couldn't tell that I had.

 

For the next couple of years Michael and I were often together at weekends and holidays but only twice did we repeat our sexual play. The last time, Michael had me undress completely so he could see my tits that were developing. I know he wanted to have proper sex with me but I firmly resisted that and, as I was now bigger and stronger than he was, he couldn't force me. Frequently we worked on building jobs with his father and on several occasions, when they were sub-contracting, with larger groups of men. By the time I was thirteen, Bert acknowledged that I was better at the jobs he gave me than his son. That I think was partly because I had the tenacity or stubbornness, if you want to call it that, to stick at a job until it was finished. I also found that I was not afraid of heights, whereas he got squeamish if we were more than a few feet off the ground. We had a job to replace a stone coping on the parapet on a church tower a couple of villages away. I had no problem in leaning over and trowelling the surplus mortar from the joint but Michael would not go anywhere near the edge and only went up the tower once.

Unfortunately there were many times where Bert and Harry were working that we weren't allowed to go but then I or we went to Uncle Joseph's. I'd completed my simple steam engine and was working on a Heinrecci hot air engine using castings that my uncle bought for me. "There's a lot of work in it," Uncle told me when I started, "And many of the parts must be precisely fitted and free otherwise it won't work." The whole thing stood well over a foot high and I needed to use the big Harrison lathe to machine the flywheels. Uncle seemed very pleased with what I did and I didn't have too much to do to finish it when father dropped a bombshell. Or rather it was Auntie Laura who had the job of telling me.

It was near the end of the August holidays and I was a little surprised when Auntie Laura instead of telling me to scrub my hands after being in Uncle's workshop all day, told me to sit down. I knew from the look she gave me, that I wasn't going to like what she had to say but I couldn't think of anything that I had done wrong. "Deborah…" This was serious; she called me Deborah. "Your father has asked me to pass on this message although why he couldn't do it himself, I don't know. Probably knows what your reaction is going to be and he wants me to soften the blow. I don't think I can do that so remember I'm only passing on the message and had nothing to do with the arrangement." For the life of me I couldn't fathom what she was likely to say. She seemed to pause for the longest time and went on, "Debbie, your father has arranged for you to attend The Agnes Willishaw School for Girls and they take them from age thirteen. It's a boarding school." I knew that. I also knew that it was for snobbish girls and that I wouldn't fit in very well.

"Fucking hell, no!" I yelled forgetting that I didn't swear in front of Laura. "He can't do this! I won't go!" Auntie Laura tried to calm me down but without much success but she made it clear that she didn't agree with my parents. I was so upset I ran to my room and missed dinner. It was 10:30 before my parents came home and by then I had worked myself up into a fury. As soon as they closed the front door I stormed down and swore and carried on. At first I said I would refuse to go, then I pleaded, then begged. Daddy just listened and let me go on until I more or less ran out of steam.

"Deborah you WILL be going to the Agnes Willishaw School starting on September 16th. Cecilia went to a similar school down in Sussex and she got on very well. This school is closer to home and has an excellent reputation for getting girls into university and you will meet the right kind of girls to help you get on in life. It's a great opportunity for you to better yourself and get yourself in with the upper class crowd. They'll teach you deportment and the correct way to speak and hopefully you'll lose this tendency to swear like the builders you've been associating with. You'll be able to put all this building and engineering nonsense behind you and become a more refined person so that perhaps you'll find a suitable man to marry."

"I won't because I won't be staying there for long. I won't do any of their work. They won't be able to make me!"

"They might just do that. As they're a private school, they are still allowed to use corporal punishment and I've signed the form that agrees to it." I argued but both daddy and mummy were adamant that I would go. I was equally determined that I wouldn't.

Early on the morning of the 16th, I quietly dressed and opened the door of my bedroom ready to creep away. "Sorry miss, you are to stay in your room until I take you to school." A well-built man in chauffeur's uniform blocked my exit. "And don't bother trying the window miss, one of my colleagues is outside."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck the sodding bastards." My swearing made not one jot of difference.

Auntie Laura came to see me off but I there were tears in her eyes and she again made it clear that she didn't agree with what was being done to me. "Sorry Debbie. Just go along with it the best you can and see if you can keep your nose out of trouble. That may be difficult seeing most of the girls there will have what they think is 'breeding' and I guess will consider you uncouth. Don't let them put you down though. You're as good as they are even if you don't have an aristocratic name going back centuries."

Later that morning, I was escorted into see Miss Sommerville, the headmistress. She tried to sound cheerful and friendly as she welcomed me but I sullenly kept my mouth shut. She must have been warned about my reluctance to attend because she ended by saying, "Some girls find their first few days here a little difficult and strange but always they come to enjoy their time with us and later in life many indeed send their children here. Please try and take part in the activities and do your best in all your lessons. I see from your records that you will have a lot of work to catch up on but I am sure you will be able to do so given the way my staff will help and guide you. Now I'll see if we can find Miranda Fischer, who is your roommate for the term. She will show you to your dormitory and you can change into your proper uniform and after lunch, you can start your orientation."

"Sorry miss, I can't do that," I smirked.

Immediately her face changed from being friendly to authoritarian and severe. "And why not pray?"

"I dumped all that stuff before they forced me into the taxi."

"Well we'll just have to phone them and get them sent here. I hope this is not going to be the start of a period of disobedience on your part Miss Wesley-Harris." I shrugged. She went to the secretary and asked her to phone my parents. They wouldn't be in and Auntie Laura was taking a day off now she didn't have to look after me.

Miranda came and waited while the secretary tried to phone through to home but had to give up when no one answered. Miss Sommerville looked very annoyed. "Wipe that smirk off your face girl." She opened a drawer and pulled out a leather tawse. "Your parents have agreed that we can use this if your behaviour warrants it and it looks very much like it will. We don't use it often but when we do the recipient finds it a painful experience. Very painful. You may not have wanted to come here but you are here now and your fees are paid for this term so you will learn to do things our way, even if the learning is hard and painful. Show her where she is to sleep, Miranda if you please and then take her to the dining hall and see she gets to the lecture theatre for 1:30."

"You've really upset Sommers," laughed Miranda as we went to the dorm. "Be careful though, she pretty strict on rules." Miranda was older than me and had already been at the school for a year. I got some peculiar looks and comments from the other girls as I went into the dining room. My tatty jeans made me stand out, as did the way I ate a full plate of food. In a way I was glad when my uniform arrived next morning; at least I wasn't as conspicuous.

By the end of the first full week, I was planning to escape. Nearly all the lessons were academic and well above my standard. In addition we were given lots of 'homework' or 'prep' as they called it, to do in the evening but I was so bored with it all, I left most of it half done, if I did it at all. Only two lessons in the week appealed to me. We had a one-hour long craft period in which I did some pottery. I'd done pottery before and was good on the wheel and liked the feel of the messy, wet clay moving under my fingers. It appeared that most of the girls disdained this and went for more ladylike crafts such as drawing or embroidery. The other lesson I liked was science. The woman was a good teacher and we did practical experiments, which suited me. However, I was soon in trouble for my other work and given frequent lectures and detentions and made to work on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Soon everyone seemed to regard me as a rebel and they knew that sooner or later I would be in trouble.

I nearly was on the Monday of my second week. One of the seniors, a prefect, ordered me to carry her books to her room. "Fuck off Garcia. Carry them yourself you lazy bitch. I'm not your bloody slave," I told her.

For a few moments she looked as if she hadn't heard me right and then in her plummy voice, "How dare you speak to me like that. I'm a prefect and am making a perfectly legitimate request. It's traditional for juniors to carry the books of prefects." I knew this but none of the others had dared to ask me. She, being with a group of her friends, thought I wouldn't retaliate even though I was bigger than she was.

When I went to walk away, three of them tried to grab me but they hadn't reckoned on muscles built up from shovelling cement and heaving bricks. My fist sent one of them sprawling and holding her stomach and my knee hit another painfully in the groin. They released me. "I'm nobody's slave and nobody's servant," I hissed. I walked away fully expecting there to be repercussions later. For some reason there wasn't.

Games and physical education was another no-no as far as I was concerned. I'd developed into a large girl and certainly wasn't lithe and able to do some of the exercises the mistress demanded. It caused some merriment when I repeatedly fell over or could not leap-frog over the horse. I got some of my own back on the hockey field when I wielded the stick and yelled like a banshee until I was sent off the pitch.

It all came to a head when at the end of my third week, my form mistress informed me that I would not be doing my craft class until I caught up on my english and maths. I sat in the room, folded my arms and refused to do anything. At afternoon break I was told to report to the headmistress. She looked grim. "I've been getting most unfavourable reports on your work and your behaviour from the teachers and prefects. It seems my warning when you came has not been heeded and you've left me no alternative but to use the tawse."

I was incensed. "You have a very good alternative you stupid bitch. You can expel me. I never wished to set foot in the snotty place and have no wish to remain in this prison for a minute longer than necessary. Phone my parents and tell them that you've kicked me out."

"If I expel you it will be after giving your bottom a good warming." Miss Sommerville's face was ashen but she took the tawse from her drawer. "Get yourself over that stool, Deborah Wesley-Harris."

"No!" I drew my hands up into fists. She didn't argue but went to the secretary and asked to speak with my father. She of course got Auntie Laura who said that she had no authority but she gave the phone number where dad could be contacted. It seemed to take ages before they got through. They spoke for a while and then handed the phone to me.

"Deborah, I've told Miss Sommerville that she is to punish you in any way she thinks fit. You are not to be expelled. You will take your spanking and perhaps you will then have the sense to do what you are told."

"This whole thing was your crappy idea daddy and now you don't like it when it doesn't work out. No, I won't take their punishment and if they force me, I shall escape and perhaps become a prostitute or something just to keep myself. It can't be worse than the hell here." The phone went dead. I ran from the room but the corridor was full of girls changing lessons.

"Hold her!" Miss Sommerville yelled. Ahead of me was Garcia. I head butted her but there were too many others around and eventually I was returned to the head's office and then locked in a storeroom. Through my sobs I could hear some activity going on outside but couldn't make out what was going on. Suddenly the door opened and I was faced with Miss Stevens, my dreaded P.E. mistress and Miss Bradbury who taught English literature. Both were big women and although I was big for my age, I was no match for them and they dragged me out and took me on to the stage in the main hall. The whole school was assembled and I knew I was to be punished in front of everyone. Miss Sommerville was going to make an example of me. My anger flared again and I struggled and kicked determined to go down fighting. Miss Stevens winced loudly when my toe connected with her shin but that only served to make her grip my arm tighter. Using some of the most colourful language that I'd picked up on building sites I berated them and the headmistress as she tried to explain to the assembled girls my misdemeanours. Unless I could free myself, they were going to thrash me and expel me so what did it matter if I swore? A few more 'sins' wouldn't make any difference.

Moments later I was propelled to a table, forcibly bent over it and my breasts and face were pushed against the hard wood. Still I kicked but now my feet only connected with air. Miss Sommerville raised my skirt and for a few moments I thought she was going to lower my knickers but she didn't. Probably that was against school policy. Vaguely I heard her say that I would get a dozen strokes with the tawse and shortly after it cracked hard across my bum. God did it hurt. The bitch must have put every ounce of her strength into it. I yelled and screamed and swore to no avail. Another tremendous band of pain had me yelling again. I'd never experienced such pain but even then I was determined to get my own back somehow. Slowly the headmistress bitch laid the tawse across my arse until I thought that I would pass out. Finally I felt my skirt being pulled down and I was allowed to stand but my arms were still pinioned by the two teachers. I stood sobbing in front of the school while Miss Sommerville babbled on about the behaviour she expected from girls at her school. At the end of her speech I gathered enough strength to yell, "You're nothing but a sadistic bitch who doesn't care anything for the needs of her pupils." I could see some of the girls were crying in sympathy for me, but others were smirking and were glad I'd been thrashed. I just wanted to rub my bottom.

"You will go to your room now Miss Wesley-Harris and pack your things ready for your departure," the headmistress ordered coldly. "Miranda will help you." As soon as my arms were released, I unashamedly rubbed my sore arse and then limped off the stage but before I left I turned and yelled, "I hope I never see your snotty faces again!"

Miranda caught up with me in the corridor and put her arm around my shoulder and I started to sob in earnest. "Have a shower first," she whispered when we neared our room, " I've some prescription painkillers that I take when my period pains get too bad and a cream that might help. My God that was some beating she gave you. At least you're now free of this place." We didn't realise how wrong she was.

The painkillers did help and Miranda very gently put some cold cream on my swollen and now purple arse. It was a pleasant sensation but the pain was still too much for me to enjoy it. I wanted to put on the jeans that I'd arrived in but settled for my P.E. shorts, which were much looser.

Miss Matthews, my craft teacher knocked at my door. She seemed genuinely distressed. "Oh Debbie, I'm so sorry this happened. I've volunteered to drive you home when you are ready or when you think you can sit long enough. They've phoned your home and Laura is expecting you." Fortunately it was only a short drive and when she left, Miss Matthews wished me the best of luck and hoped that I would find a school more suited to my needs.

Auntie Laura fussed over me. "Your father's furious and has threatened to give you another hiding when he gets in so maybe you'd better disappear over to your Uncle Joseph's. As usual he's unplugged his phone but I don't doubt he'll put you up for a while." He did and looked after me for three days until my father agreed that I could go back home without getting another hiding. Auntie Laura must have had a lot of persuading to do to get him to agree. What I didn't know was that he'd done a lot of persuading with Miss Sommerville and I heard later he'd made a considerable donation to the school's new gymnasium fund to allow me back after a month long suspension. However, the terms were more favourable to me this time. I was to be one of the few day students and my timetable cut down so I could drop two subjects and could now have craft twice a week. I'm sure Auntie Laura had a hand in the negotiations because daddy would not have made as many concessions. She also agreed to supervise my 'prep' for an hour and a half each evening. My weekends would be free.

Much to my surprise, when I returned I was treated with much more respect. In the eyes of many of the younger girls, I was a hero and even the older ones didn't give me any of the hassle I expected. Not even Garcia. With a month away from school and being below the standard of many of the girls in my group anyway, I was always the dunce of the class. Now though, it seemed that the teachers realised I wasn't going to pass or even take any exams and just let me get on as best I could provided I didn't give them any grief. To their credit, they didn't ignore me but they set me work of a lower standard and Miss Sawtry even went as far as to set my maths into a building or engineering context which did indeed help me later. It started when Uncle Joseph who I now started to call Joe, tried to explain about gear ratios for a thread that I needed to cut on the lathe for a tool I was making. He knew what to do but couldn't explain why and just reading from a book didn't sink into my brain. He suggested I take the book and ask Miss Sawtry to explain it, which she did after she'd taken the book home to read. Perhaps one of the good things about that school was the small size of the classes. Twelve in my maths group instead of twenty-eight at the comprehensive.

While I cannot say that I enjoyed my time at The Agnes Willishaw School, I began to accept it. My desire to be doing things in a practical way set me apart from the others. This was immediately apparent when one Monday lunchtime after a half-term break, the girls were discussing what they'd done during the vacation. Horse riding, sailing, going to dances and being with boyfriends were the most popular answers. "What did you get up to Debbie?" Miranda enquired.

"I finished my hot air engine and got that running, tarmacked a drive, helped dig a trench for sewer pipes and cemented in a gargoyle that was becoming unsafe on our church." Most of them didn't even know what a gargoyle was until I explained that it was a carved stone beast that had a hole through it to shed rainwater from the church tower clear of the wall.

"That sounds a bit dangerous," Miss Matthews who sat on our table remarked. "Aren't they usually high up at the top of the building?"

"Yes Miss. It was about a hundred feet up. Bert and Harry did most of the work cementing it in place but then they put a harness on me and lowered me over the edge on a rope to clean off the excess mortar and to cement the loose knapped flints that had fallen from under it."

"They had you hanging on a rope a hundred feet above the ground? Cementing stones? Weren't you scared?" Miranda looked horrified.

"I was safe enough. They had the end tied around the flagpole. It would have cost a fortune if they'd had to erect scaffolding up the tower. Michael wouldn't even watch. He can't stand heights."

Next morning at lunchtime Miss Matthews came into the lower form common room. That was fairly unusual as the teachers normally left us alone in there. "Have you seen this?" She thrust the county newspaper at me. There was I on the front page. One photo taken from below making the tower look extremely high, another a close-up taken with a telephoto lens, showing me with a trowel cementing stones and a third of me climbing back over the parapet with all my gear on.

"Look what the well dressed girl of today wears. I like your hat," laughed Miranda who sat next to me. She referred to my bright yellow hard-hat with Deb stencilled on the front. She went on to read the opening paragraph out loud which brought all the other girls around. "Fourteen year old Deborah Wesley-Harris, a pupil at The Agnes Willishaw School for girls, on Saturday swung perilously 150 feet above the ground as she fixed a 500 lb. medieval stone gargoyle safely back in place. A job that would have scared many men…"

"What a load of bullshit!" I exclaimed without thinking. "They exaggerated everything. I was no more than a hundred feet up, probably less; I wasn't swinging because I was in a proper harness with two safety ropes and side ropes to prevent me swinging and three of us could lift the gargoyle so it was no where near 500 lbs. Where did they get their facts from?"

"I would have wet my knickers if I had been asked to lean over that tower, let alone hang over the edge by a rope," Nicola exclaimed, a sentiment echoed by others in the room. Even Miss Matthews said she wouldn't have done it if they'd paid her. I'd done it for free.

A prefect asking me to report to Miss Sommerville’s office interrupted our conversation. "Wonder what I've done wrong now?" I muttered. She had the paper open on her desk. "Deborah, we’ve had to answer many calls this morning over this article mainly from parents who seem to think we gave you permission to do this..."

"I'm sorry Miss. I had no idea it would get into the paper. It was the vicar who took the pictures and I thought they were for the parish magazine. Half of what it says isn't true anyway."

"You're not in trouble this time Deborah although you have caused our secretary and myself considerable extra work. While I don't agree with the concept that your activities constitute suitable employment for a young lady I do have to admit that you were very brave to do it. Very brave indeed." She shook my hand and allowed me to go back to class.

For the next few days I had to withstand a good deal of teasing from the girls over what I did in my spare time, the way I dressed and what I supposedly got up to with the men on the building sites. By now though, I had learned to turn their comments back on them. However, it was through the article that I got my job with Hanson and Weeks.

About three weeks later on a Saturday morning I was working with Bert and Harry trying to chisel a hole in a concrete gatepost to take the gudgeon for the hinge of a pair of large wrought iron gates. Harry was doing one post and I attacked the other. The concrete was extremely hard and progress was slow for both of us. It turned into a little competition to see who would be the first to chisel the hole deep enough to take the ironwork. I was thumping the cold chisel with a lump hammer when a van drew up. "Morning Mr. Weeks," Bert greeted the driver.

"Mornin' Bert," the man replied, "That the girl that gets to hang 150 foot from an 80 foot tower? Doesn't look like one of them private school gals to me and I wouldn't want to meet her in the dark when she's got a hammer in her hand like that!" I stopped and glared at the man.

"Debbie, stop and meet Mr. Weeks. He's one of the bosses at Hanson and Weeks. We did a bit of subbing for them a few months ago on Icklinton Manor." Bert introduced me.

"I've heard quite a bit about you. Do you ever think of taking up building as a career?" Mr. Weeks enquired.

"Yes sir, I have but they don't seem keen to let me out of prison school yet. Until I'm eighteen they can keep me there."

"Well when they put you on parole," he paused and laughed, "And if you're still keen, give me a call." He gave me his card and after talking with Bert for a while, he left.

Much of the talk in the common room, at least when the teachers were not around, concerned sex. I was amazed at the number of girls who openly admitted to having sex with boys of their own age or with older men even though they were still under age. Many made it sound so enjoyable that I began to wonder at what I was missing. There were also a number of girls who were in lesbian relationships and this seemed tolerated by the others and the staff providing it was done covertly.

Michael was still my boy friend although we weren't lovers and I always paused between the word boy and friend. By the time I was fifteen and had grown to my full height of 5' 10" and big with it, we had messed about sexually probably about four times. Always it was a spur of the moment thing like when we peed by the stream. More usually we were together when working with his father or at Uncle Joe's. So it was pretty much a spur of the moment thing when he took my virginity.

We'd been working in a barn across the fields from my house. The weather was hot and the work dusty from all the chaff we had to move before we could get to the damaged timber and brickwork from where the farm worker had reversed a tractor and trailer too far back. When we cleared the work area we couldn't do much more until Bert and Harry were able to get the timber and that wouldn't be until Monday. They went off to get some special bricks from a supplier over in the next county so Michael and I started to walk home. "I shall be fucking glad to get in the shower and wash this chaff shit out of my bra. It's beginning to itch like hell," I complained.

"Yeah and I'll need to wash it from my pants otherwise I shall be scratching my balls to pieces," Michael grinned.

"I'll wash you if you wash me," I teased.

"You're on! Last one in the shower washes the first."

We ran the rest of the way to my house and, as I expected, Laura was out. She wouldn't be expecting me home for several more hours and was visiting her friend in the next village. Since my altercation with my parents over the school, I rarely saw them. They steered clear of me and I largely kept out of their way. With much pushing of each other we arrived at my bedroom and started stripping off. He wore fewer clothes and I could see he was going to win so I picked him up and put him outside the bedroom door. I could easily lift him now that I had grown so much more than he had. I leaned against the door to prevent him entering while I removed my bra and knickers. "You cheated!" he said in mock anger when I entered the shower a split second before him.

"Yes, but I knew you wanted to wash me first." Of course that led to him playing with my tits, which by then were well developed, and taking longer than necessary to clean my pubic area. By that time he had a full erection and I noticed how much larger it had grown since my first sight of it when we were only eleven. I was a little disappointed when he spurted during my washing of it but it didn't go down for long and when I used a soft fluffy towel, it became hard again. Without any conscious effort I found myself lying on my bed, a towel under me, and inviting Michael to fuck me. He did. I felt a stab of pain but that was over quickly and soon I began to enjoy the feel of his prick inside me. It was probably a good thing that he had shot his load earlier because it took him longer to come when he really fucked me.

"Can I go all the way?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm on the pill." I was really thankful that Auntie Laura had suggested that some months previously. I think she was more concerned that one of the building workers might try and seduce or rape me but she might have had Michael in mind too. I came and finally Michael did too. He thanked me and I thanked him and we went and had a quick shower again and I left the bloody towel in the shower to soak away the telltale evidence of my torn hymen.

Michael and I drifted apart when at sixteen he left home to work on a cruise liner. I knew for a long while before then, that he was unhappy working for his father. "I'll never earn more than a pittance and always be under his thumb," he told me one day. I wished that I could escape the clutches of my father as easily.

I still went and helped his dad and when I was due for a week's work experience at school I phoned Mr. Weeks. He was most helpful and got me on to a site they were preparing for a new block of flats. Roy, a charge hand about 30 years old, was detailed to take charge of me and to see that I got to see and try as many aspects of their work as possible in the short time. They had far more machinery than Bert and Harry and before the end of the week I'd driven a dumper truck and one of the smaller bulldozers. This was a totally new experience for me, and one that I enjoyed immensely. I loved the sense of power in being able to control such a large machine and get it to shift tons of earth without breaking my back. It was then that I resolved that I would train to be a heavy machinery driver when I could. Mr. Weeks turned up one morning when I was driving the bulldozer and asked Roy how I was getting on. He gave me a glowing report. "She's learned how to control that machine to do simple jobs in less than an hour whereas most men take a whole day or more," Roy told him.

"Get yourself a driving license as soon as you're allowed and then come to me and I'll see if I can get you on a day release course at the building college. Do you think your prison school will agree to that?" he asked. I laughed at his remembering my term for the school and said I would see what I could do.

Many of the lads flirted with me and I was invited to the pub on most nights but I declined these invitations. Some of the boys were very blatant in what they wanted from me and used the crudest language in their invites. One even cornered me on my own and took out his prick and offered to give me 'one helluva good time' if I would go back to his flat. I almost said yes, but decided not to. I guess that the sight of so many good-looking lads working shirtless and in shorts was turning me on. However, when Roy asked if I would like to go for a pub meal after work on my last day I agreed. He'd done a lot for me and I thought I could give him something in return if he wanted it.

We met at the pub. He looked so very different in his best clothes and I must have done so too because his first remark was, "God, there is a beautiful woman under those overalls. I never would have known." We laughed and talked and when the meal was over I went to his home and spent the whole night there. I found him to be very experienced at making love and he had me climaxing over and over again. It was he that introduced me to fellatio for the first time. I was reluctant but he'd given me such a good time that when he couldn't get it to rise for one last fuck he suggested that I suck him to hardness. I did and once he was hard, he didn’t seem to want me to stop so I didn't and tasted male sperm for the first time.

Auntie Laura gave me a little lecture when I got home in the morning but it was more to make sure I knew the dangers that I might get myself into. She didn't say whether or not she approved of my actions. My parents didn't even realise that I had been out all night.

As soon as I was seventeen and old enough to take driving lessons, I booked to take an intensive course over the Easter holiday period. Uncle Joe had already given me some basic tuition at driving around private farm roads and on a disused airfield so I had the basic skills before I started the course. It was then more a case of learning road skills and dealing with traffic. At the end of the holiday course, I booked a test and three weeks later passed first time. Fortunately, I was financially able to buy a car and thus I was mobile and didn't have to rely on the bus or Laura to get me around.

Mr. Weeks was as good as his word. He enrolled me on a civil engineering course at the building college for two days a week starting in September. "When you tell your prison governess that you're on the course, make sure you emphasise it's a Civil Engineering course. That sounds so much grander but in reality, it is building but on a bigger scale. As you know my firm does both. We have the civil engineering side which builds roads and puts up blocks of flats or shopping malls like the site you worked on, and there the other side which restores old buildings. What you learn at the college will put you in good stead to do either." I found later that I was put on the payroll of Hanson and Weeks as an apprentice for those two days of the week and they even paid me a small wage.

The problem was not so much getting the school to agree to my taking the course but getting father to agree to it. It was Auntie Laura that finally persuaded him. "If she does another full year at that girls school, what will she end up with? A handful of low grade GCE's? If she goes to the college she could get a good NVQ in whatever subject she takes. She's no interest in the work at the school whereas she would be super keen to do well at the college. In any case if you don't let her go now, she will when she's eighteen and doesn't need your permission." For a housemaid, Laura put my case extremely well until finally and reluctantly he agreed with the proviso that I was to continue with my school studies for the remaining three days of the week.

The college work was pretty hard. Yes, I learned to drive the big machines but there was also a lot of theoretical work too. In a way I was fortunate to be at The Agnes Willishaw School because the staff seemed only too willing to help me with the work. Miss Sawtry was particularly helpful and taught me a great deal about the maths behind weight loading problems. She seemed to ignore the fact that I was on a GCE course syllabus. After a couple of terms at the college, I opted for the crane driving module. The only other girl on the course opted for the surveying module so I didn't see her so often. She already had A-level maths so it suited her better than manual work. In general I was the only woman amongst a group of thirty men and boys. Having been on building sites for some time, this didn't worry me but I did get plenty of offers to be taken out. I accepted a few but, apart from an occasional fuck that didn't do much for me, they didn't lead anywhere.

The first crane driving module was on mobile cranes and several times I got to take one out on the road with my instructor and learner plates on, to do a charity jobs. It felt so different to handle after my little car but it had the advantage that other motorists kept well clear of me! The first time went well and my instructor, Dave, praised the way I lifted the load, a Portacabin, from a low loader over a hedge and on to a prepared base. I too was pleased with the way it went. We had to wait for a short while when I had placed the cabin, for them to make some adjustments to the base before we could remove the slings and I remarked to Dave that I would like to drive one of the big tower cranes. "I'll see what I can do," he said after I reassured him that I had a good head for heights and he remembered the church tower article. "It's a specialised thing and we don't get many wanting to try it." I knew that and I knew that Hanson and Weeks only had two local tower crane 'operatives' as they seemed to like calling them.

My next outing with a mobile crane got me into the papers for all the wrong reasons. I had to deliver it to a small site where the local scouts group were erecting a new hut, lift a couple of girders into place and return to base. The whole job should have taken less than an hour. However when I made my way down the busy main road in the rush hour, just before the turn into the site, the builders had parked a full skip. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem except that a Landrover was parked on the other side of the road some three feet out from the kerb. It seemed that the woman, yes it was a woman, couldn't get into the space left between two cars so she left it. It was causing a lot of congestion before I got there. I couldn't get through between the skip and the car so traffic backed up behind and in front of me. Soon I couldn't move in either direction. Gridlock, which slowly spread to the nearby roads resulting in traffic chaos. Quickly the police arrived on the scene and found the owners address and from her husband learned she was at the hairdressers! She was most indignant at being brought out to move her car and even more so when she saw a parking ticket on it.

Dave must have put my request through because two weeks later I had to report to a big building site where they were erecting a huge tower block of flats. It was to be a kind of work experience mainly to see if I could withstand being in a cab on a swaying steel column and still operate the machinery. This one had a lift and soon I was ensconced in a small corner seat while Graham sat at the console. I know he looked at me several times half expecting me to be sick but when he saw I really was interested he explained everything to me and even allowed me to do some simple manoeuvres. It seemed a bit strange after the mobile cranes, not to see the load and only to work by radio contact instructions from the ground or visual signals from a man standing a hundred feet away. I really enjoyed being up there and looking down on everything going on below me. He gave a good report to Dave. "I've had some trainees that didn't dare to look out of the window, let alone watch the load and follow signals from below. Debbie showed none of this and could make a good tower crane operator," he wrote on my report sheet.

The next step was a two-week course on a training site in the Midlands and I had to wait some months before a place became available. I told the school and Auntie Laura that I would be away but not my father. I doubted he would notice anyway. Miss Sommerville complained that I should be revising for my exams, which were only a few weeks away, but I pointed out that, in my view, the crane course was far more important for my career. She already knew of my being employed by Hanson and Weeks, the firm that was building the gymnasium because I had been reprimanded twice for visiting the site when it was out of bounds to us. Mr. Weeks must have sorted the problem out because it was never mentioned when I subsequently visited the lads or worked there on Saturdays. I know several of the girls, including Miranda recognised me when I drove the huge HiJack crane through the main yard to get to the site and they watched as I lifted the large pre-formed concrete slabs from the transporter to the roof of the building. It impressed some but others looked down their noses at what they saw as a common manual work. Miss Dodds, my science teacher saw me too and made me give a short talk on it during our next lesson and I had to try and explain how the various angles of the jib determined the maximum weight the crane could, or at least, should lift. Something Miss Sawtry had helped me with months earlier.

The accommodation at the Midlands site was rather primitive and catered mainly for the 99.9% male student intake. In fact I was only the second woman to attend. The dorm block had single rooms and there was a single toilet for ladies but the main washroom and combined shower room was communal. There was a bolt whereby I could lock the door from the inside but with eleven men wanting to use the room as well, that would have held up everyone or I would have to wait ages for them to finish. The first day was mainly theory and safety but in the afternoon we walked around the site and had to climb into several different types of crane. It was a hot summer's day and by the time we finished, I was soaked with sweat and my bra showed clearly through my shirt. The lads had long since removed their shirts and several suggested I did the same but I politely told them to get stuffed. I think some of the climbing to view the cranes was to see if we were fit enough to do the job and to see how we reacted to the height. One lad, Jake, looked distinctly uneasy but pluckily kept on. He was with me for the second crane climb and I had to keep encouraging him but he made it to the cab and said, "Thanks. I'm told you get used to it after a bit. I hope so. I could do with the extra money for operating one of these things."

"Jake, I know the usual advice is not to look down but in this job you have to. If the tutor sees you shaking and looking up at the ceiling, you'll be off the course. Come to the window with me and see what's going on below." I took his hand like an old mother even though he was some years older then me, and made him watch the groups moving around. They seemed very small. Gradually his shaking subsided and then I spotted our tutors bright red coat heading our way. "Here he comes. For now we'll seem to be interested in the controls but if he points out anything on the ground, just imagine you're only a few steps up a ladder and they are only toy soldiers." We were asked about things on the ground but I managed to side-track him by asking things I learned from Graham while on work experience. Going down is always more difficult that climbing up. The tutor went first because he wanted to get to the next group. I told Jake to follow. "You can then get a good view of my arse," I joked. The tutor grinned. Jake knew that it was to keep him looking upwards and that he would have to keep moving otherwise I might tread on his fingers.

Knowing there would be a rush to take a shower before dinner and that I definitely needed one, I quickly stripped off in my room and put on a robe and headed along the corridor. I met Jake in his shorts, as I left the room. He was heading for the showers too. "You going to shower with us?" and when I nodded he asked, "Aren't you afraid of being…"

"Not with you to protect me," I joked. Two men were already under the showers so there was one head free, two more were drying themselves so I got a good look at them. All stared at me when I shucked off my robe. "Okay boys, you can look but no touching. Same thing applies to me. If you can't control your pricks and get a hard-on, don't worry about it, but you'll have to go elsewhere to relieve yourselves. That okay with you?" They all murmured something resembling a yes, so I went on, "In any case, I've got Jake here to protect me." That caused some laughter, as Jake was the smallest one in the class.

Colin, a burly but jovial Welshman quipped, "I've eaten more than him for breakfast!"

Although I knew they were all looking, I did nothing to hide my body. Jake stepped under the shower when it became free and I noticed he started to get a little hard and that, for his size, he was pretty well equipped in the prick department but I didn't comment.

After dinner most of us adjourned to the local pub. I drove Jake. We seemed to hit if off well and he could carry on a conversation without too many swear words. I confined myself to soft drinks and Jake only had one beer when I suggested we returned, the others, noticing we were leaving, started teasing us with ribald comments. "Remember what she said Jake. No touching!" "If you get a hard-on you have to go elsewhere to relieve yourself." "You using protection Jake? Or does she need protection from you?"

In my best Agnes Willishaw School for Girls voice I replied. "My good men, I just feel it is my duty to see this young lad is safely tucked in bed for the night so that he is ready for tomorrow's activities." The caused some whoops of laughter and questions as to whose bed I was tucking him in but it was all good-natured and friendly. Jake accepted my invitation to come into my room for a coffee and it wasn't long after before we were naked and in bed together. "I think you're trying to seduce me," he whispered when I rubbed his shaft to full hardness and rolled him on top of me.

"I think you're right but I'm sure you don't mind." He fucked me really hard but he took an awful long while to come, so long that I had my first multiple orgasm. It made me decide that it wouldn't be the only night he shared my bed during the course. Both of us dozed for a while but were woken by the doors banging as the rest of the crowd came in. We wondered if they would realise we were in bed together and try and disturb us, but they didn't. Jake, fully awake again, started to caress my tits and then kiss them; I felt down and found his semi hard prick and gently massaged it until it was ready for use. It crossed my mind that I ought not to be doing it because my cunt was still tender from his previous attack and because we had another full day tomorrow but my horniness from his attentions drove me on and shortly he was inside me for the second time. Once more I orgasmed several times before he shot his load and withdrew.

A noisy bell in the corridor awoke us with a start. 7:00 a.m. Jake had intended to creep back into his room before the others awoke but it was too late now. We could hear movements in the corridor, then a banging on my door. "Come on, up you get Debbie! Push Jake out as well! You can't fuck all day as well as all night!" Colin's loud voice came through the door. I grabbed a robe and Jake put on his trousers and we waited until we thought the coast was clear and everything was quiet. As soon as I opened the door, Colin's head appeared. "Yes, I thought that you wanted to get it off with him. An all nighter at that. Hope you're fit to climb those ladders this morning." He chortled and went off to tell the others.

"I can still race you up and down any of them Colin and still have some breath left," I called after him. He turned and put his fingers up to me but I just laughed. I knew that with all the weight he carried, climbing up to the cabs was pretty exhausting for him. Jake had to put up with a lot of ribbing when he went into the washroom. I did the best I could in the washbasin in my toilet.

Jake did share my bed about every other night during the course. I pretended it was his reward for my help in overcoming his nervousness of heights. He was a very good lover but neither of us could see much future in our relationship. He lived with his mother more than two hundred miles from me and had a good job with a major construction firm who had paid for him to attend the course. He passed the course but not by many marks, mainly because of his nervousness at being so high up. We hoped that would disappear in time. Before our departure we kissed and agreed it was nice while it lasted.

At the final ceremony, the chief instructor gave out the certificates in reverse order of marks. One student failed, Jake received his certificate and gradually I became more and more nervous when it got to the last three, then the last two and finally I learned that I had the highest marks. I just couldn't keep from crying. Colin, who came fourth, made a little speech saying that after all the remarks he made about women drivers, one had beaten him by a very good margin. "And she didn't sleep with the instructor to get the marks either," he added to everyone's amusement.

Miss Sommerville made a little speech when she announced my success to the school at assembly when I returned. "We've had many successes in the past but never has anyone obtained a qualification in Tower Crane Operating. Deborah, I do congratulate you on your tenacity in working your way to the top of your chosen subject." She went on at some length and I had to thank her at the end. The girls loudly applauded me although I knew many of them thought of me as more of a boy in a girl's body and couldn't understand why I chose to do manual work.

One other incident occurred a few weeks before I finally left The Agnes Willishaw School. The shell of the new gymnasium was completed close to the end of the summer term. All that remained was the placement of a little turret with a spire and a clock, a replica of one that had blown down from the original building in 1953, centrally on the roof. The new one was largely UPVC on a metal frame and we had the TV people and dignitaries there to witness the 'topping out' ceremony as it was called. All of us girls were lined up behind a safety tape waiting for the proceedings to begin. I was a little puzzled that the crane to lift the turret was not ready in position but just assumed that it would be swung around at the correct time, when all the speeches were over. Miss Sommerville, the school governors, mummy and daddy because they contributed considerable sums, a mayor and various other dignitaries were all on a little platform with a microphone and I expected it to be a long-winded affair. Daddy had hardly spoken to me since I announced that I was definitely not going to university and that he could do nothing about it. He could have thrown me out of the house but he didn't. Not that I would have worried over much but I would have missed Auntie Laura.

We waited while the TV people finished setting up and then, to my surprise, Mr. Weeks dressed in his best suit, left the stage and headed to where we were all standing. Grinning he fished in his pocket and produced a set of keys; keys that I recognised as belonging to the crane. "Get yourself up into the cab, Debbie." In a daze I dipped under the tape and walked to the gate at the tower base. Someone stopped me and pinned a microphone to my blouse but I hardly realised what was happening. In the background I heard Mr. Weeks' voice coming over the public address system. "Ladies and gentlemen and girls, unbeknown to our guests here, I have asked our newest crane operator to do us the honour of lifting the turret. She's been a pupil at this school for the past five years and recently was awarded top marks on a tower crane training course. I have every confidence that she will place the turret neatly and correctly in position. For your information, the turret weighs…" He went on to give details of the structure.

Meanwhile I arrived at the tower gate. Benny opened it for me. "First time I've seen you in a skirt Debs," he remarked.

"Yeah, and you better keep you eyes down while I climb to the cab. I know what a randy sod you are."

"What and lose about the only chance I might get to look up your legs?" I wondered what the outbreak of laughter was for but I'd already started climbing. I didn't like the way my school shoes didn't grip the steel rungs and cursed to myself but I made it into the cab without mishap. "Better do all the pre-use checks they taught us on the course," I thought. For routine day-to-day work you did them but not out loud like pilots. I put the helmet on with the radio connection to the ground. Benny's voice came through, "White knickers today. Make sure you don't mess them."

"If you're not careful I'll put the hook in your arse and hoist you on the roof instead," I joked back and started to go through the checks. I was only partway through when Benny voice interrupted me.

"Watch what you say Debs. Every word is being broadcast over the PA. They've heard all your last remarks and some of mine."

"You could have warned me Benny…..Swinging ……Now you'll have to get an assurance from Miss Sommerville that I won't be put across her desk to receive another dose of her tawse…….Lowering the hook…….Unless you're prepared to take my punishment for me."

"They're hearing all you say Debbie and they're laughing their heads off."

Then it came to me; it was the little radio microphone the TV people had clipped on me before I entered the tower. I needed to do a damage limitation exercise and do it quickly. "Ladies, gentlemen and girls. I apologise if I shocked you with my earlier words. As you may have realised, I didn't know it was going out live to all of you. This informal kind of banter is common between the crane operator and the ground crew. It keeps everyone in good humour and makes the essential co-operation between us, much easier." Over the hum of the motors, I couldn't hear what effect, if any, it had on my audience.

"Hi Debbie, this is Martin Dedman of Eastern Counties TV would you like to describe the scene as you see it for us please? And perhaps you could also tell us what you are doing to control the crane."

"Yeah when I don't have to concentrate on the orders that Benny and his boys give me. I don't want them getting me in trouble again." I tried to describe what I saw interspersed with receiving instructions and relaying on what I was doing. They must have found it interesting because they cut out some of the speeches from the platform. Lifting the turret into position went like clockwork and, half an hour later, I set the jib in the parked position and turned off the power.

"Benny! Have you sorted out Miss Sommerville or have I got to stay up here all night?" I thought that I could get away with that remark and I heard the laughter now the motors were turned off.

To my surprise it was Miss Sommerville herself that replied. "You just get yourself down here young lady. Your punishment will be to stand on the platform and receive the applause of the crowd for a job well done and to have a few words with Mr. Dedman."

However, after all the praise from the platform, none pleased me more than when I handed the keys back to Mr. Weeks and he said, "Well done Deb. I couldn't have done it better myself." He gave me a hug and I thanked him for paying for the course.

At home later daddy and mummy both grudgingly praised the way I handled the job but they made it quite clear that they expected me to find a suitable husband and settle down to a more normal life. By suitable husband I knew they meant one that had a title and money.

 

Three months later there occurred a great loss in my life. I'd been working on a huge building site for a multiple office complex. With two of us crane operators on the site we worked a shift system of two days on and two days off, weekends included because the site was worked seven days a week. By mutual agreement we swapped shifts for the odd day or two when one of us needed to be off on a particular day but in general it worked very well. I still spent a lot of my off days with Uncle Joe but because Jason, the other crane operator, needed to be away on what should have been my off days, I worked four days in a row. I then spent the first of my free days doing things at home, so by the time I went around to his cottage again, I'd missed seeing him for five days. When I last saw him, he seemed fit and well but when I entered the house that morning I could almost smell something was wrong. It was a complete shock when I found him lying naked on top of the bed, cold and dead. The post mortem gave the cause of death as a heart attack. As you might expect, I was really, really upset. I loved Uncle Joe and in many ways he was more of a father to me than daddy was. I had to take two weeks off work and even when I returned I was a bit shaky. Fortunately they were able to get an operator from another site to cover for me.

I'd hardly started back when Laura, she tried to stop me calling her auntie when I started work because she said it made her seem like an old maid, took a phone call for me. It was from Burlington and Burlington, solicitors. When I phoned them they told me it was about Uncle Joe's will and after I'd paid them a visit, it seemed that I had inherited his house complete with workshop and a considerable sum of money. It took them over two months to sort it all out and in the meantime I started to clean and sort out the living rooms, as distinct from the rooms he used as workshops. Apart from the bedroom I'd slept in now and again, and the kitchen, I don't think any of them had been swept or dusted for years. I knew they were in a bad state but he'd always kept the doors closed and I never looked in. The workshops, by complete contrast, were relatively clean and tidy. After going through them I decided to completely strip all the living rooms and to burn everything that was burnable. A few pieces of bric-a-brac could go to the charity shop and anything else would go to the dump. When I mentioned it in the works canteen, two of the lads volunteered to help me.

One, 'Flash' Gordon, I never knew his real first name but he'd been nicknamed 'Flash' since childhood. I think he only volunteered because he thought it might give him a chance to get into my knickers. The other was Peter Hines, a quiet lad who I'd met a number of times when Uncle Joe took me to the local model engineering club. I'd seen him at the funeral but at the time, I was too upset to speak to him. Usually our paths never crossed because he was more on the survey / architect side of things and it was pure chance he was in the canteen when I mentioned my need.

He worked tirelessly but was the butt of several jokes from Flash because he wore gloves to protect his hands and couldn't carry some of the heaviest items. It was only when Flash was out of the room feeding the bonfire and we sat with mugs of tea in the kitchen that he asked, "Are you going to use the lathes and other tools?"

I said, "Yes, but I will now have to learn to use them without Uncle Joe putting me right at every turn."

"Why don't you come along to the club on Tuesday evenings? There's a lot of talent there and they'll give you any advice you need. You've been before and met some of the members. I go most weeks to use the equipment." Flash returned and that ended our conversation. Before we finished for the day, he handed me a piece of paper with his phone number and said that if I wanted any further help, to let him know. I didn't want to impose on him so I didn't ask for any help but two Tuesday's later I did phone and asked if he was going to the club. I thought it might be nice to have someone introduce me to the others. I couldn't remember names from the few times I went with Uncle Joe.

"Yes," he answered, "But I go on my bike until I get a new car. It's only about five miles. I'm not high enough up in the company for them to allow me to bring home the van I use."

"How about if I pick you up about seven and in return, you show me around the club and introduce me to the others?" I could almost hear him about to make some excuse to go on his bike so I added knowing that it would make saying no, very much more difficult, "I'd very much appreciate you doing that."

"Well, if you're sure you don't mind? I was going to take the baseplate for my beam engine along to surface it on the big lathe if it is free. I can't do very much on the Workmate that I use as a bench in this room."

He was waiting on the pavement in front of a Victorian house now converted into flats and was holding a heavy looking canvas bag that I rightly guessed held his casting. I think I did most of the talking on the journey to the club but he began to answer a few questions until we arrived and then he clammed up again and only stuttered my introductions to the secretary and treasurer and one or two of the others. He stood by my side while I spoke at length with the secretary. "I remember Joe bringing you a year or two back when you'd made that hot-air engine. Do you intend using the workshop now?"

"Of course, but I haven't really decided what to make now that I don't have an instructor watching me. I rather fancy trying my hand at a Congreve clock. I know they don't keep accurate time but they're fascinating to watch." We discussed this and he introduced Fred Parsons who was the clock maker in the club. Almost an hour went by before I noticed Peter still by my side. A huge wave of guilt went through me. He'd wanted to machine his baseplate and I knew the setting up alone would probably take an hour and machining it at the low speed necessary for cast iron, would take at least as long. Now it seemed like tea-break time and everyone sat around a long table.

"I'm sorry Pete, I've kept you from doing what you came to do." He dismissed my apology. I went on, "Look, you don't work weekends. I'm off Sunday and Monday. Why don't you bring it round and mill it on the Bridport or use the old shaper if you don't want the snailing in the finish. It will be a lot easier to set up than on the lathe."

"I wouldn't want you to go to all that trouble…"

"Damn you Pete. Just get your arse over to my place on Sunday morning about nine. I shall need to pick your brains on things I want to do so at least you can use my equipment in return. Uncle Joe would prefer to see it used rather than lying idle. In any case, if you finish early you can put a coat of emulsion on one of the bedrooms."

For a few moments he looked shocked at my words but one of the others picked up on them and laughed, "You do what the lady tells you Pete. Joe had the finest workshop in these parts and trying to surface that lump of cast iron here would take at least two evenings."

I chatted with Fred Parsons for a while and looked at what some of the others were doing until it was time to leave and return Pete to his home. "Are you going to offer your taxi driver a cup of chocolate or something?" I tried to make it sound like a joke but he looked at me like a startled deer in car headlights. I actually wanted to see how he could do something as big as a beam engine in what looked to be a two room flat on a portable Workmate bench.

Finally he stammered, "Would you like to come in for a mug of chocolate Debbie?" I of course accepted and was amazed that he could do very much at all on the tiny lathe he'd set up on the Workmate in one corner of the kitchen. He proudly showed me some of the parts he had already made and the much smaller vertical steam engine he had already completed. With just the two of us in his home, he was much more talkative particularly on model making. I began to like this young man, well he was three or four years older than me, and I wondered what I could do to help him overcome his profound shyness.

Certainly using my workshop helped a great deal and over the weeks he used it more and more but he did spend a considerable time helping to get the place decorated. I began to feel strongly attracted to him but it was all very platonic. He did catch a glimpse of my tits one morning when I used the shower before going home and failed to pull my robe tight enough but that seemed to embarrass him so I was careful not to let it happen again. A couple of times I noticed when we were working close together, he got an erection but he kept it concealed as far as he could.

 

Caroline, you’ll have to omit a great deal of the next part from any article or change the names so that they are not recognised. As I mentioned at the beginning, this is more for your information and I do not wish Lord Brackenbury’s family brought into it.

 

Things went on like this for several months. I liked to be in the workshop when he was there and had made a start on my clock, which meant that my plans for moving into the house had been put back. The amount of decorating and cleaning needed far exceeding my estimation but by early December, I decided I would be in my own home by Christmas and I would invite Pete around to keep me company. Miranda also said she'd come and bring her latest boyfriend from university.

It therefore came as quite a surprise when at breakfast Laura handed me a gold trimmed envelope. On the front was a Post-it note. 'You must accept this invitation or our reputation will be ruined. Buy yourself a nice dress and all that goes with it at Bon Marché. We have arranged credit for you there and they know the sort of thing you'll need. Please none of your nonsense this time. It is very important that you attend. Mummy and Daddy'

Inside was an invitation card.

Lord and Lady Brackenbury

Cordially invite

Miss Deborah Wesley-Harris

To a ball at

Westleythorpe Manor

On the evening of December 18th at 8:30 p.m.

Formal dress

RSVP

"Shit! I hate these society functions and I was planning to leave here and move into Uncle Joe's place that day."

"You've never been to one," Laura smiled at me. She had guessed that I wouldn't be too pleased at getting the invite. "And a day or two's wait before you move won't make much difference."

"They had this sort of thing at school and even with the dancing lessons and etiquette instruction, I still put the wrong foot forward. And why this note on the front ordering me to go? And paying for a new dress? Do you know Laura?"

"Your father said he went to considerable trouble to get the invitations; they're going too. He also remarked that Lady Brackenbury particularly wanted to meet you after seeing you on the television putting that turret on the school and when you used the big mobile crane to lift the fallen oak tree from their tenant’s house. I guess they're sending you to Bon Marché because they are experienced in dressing young ladies and they don't want you turning up in orange work boots and a HiViz jacket." I couldn't help laughing with Laura at the picture she conjured up but I had a sneaky feeling there was much more behind it than that.

I accosted daddy and mummy that evening but couldn't get any other information out of them and both of them were adamant that it was in my best interest to attend. I very reluctantly agreed. By way of a minor protest I went to Bon Marché straight from work. The elderly woman was ready to throw me out but the young assistant recognised me from junior school and from seeing me around the village. They made me take off most of my outer clothes and then decided on a very nice and very expensive dress in blue with a low cut neckline and splits at each side. They wouldn't let me try it on until I'd had a shower, which was a good idea. Most of the shoes they had in stock were far too tight and with my weight and general clumsiness, or lack of a refined walk, I couldn't wear high heels. My feet had become used to work boots and were wider than most ladies so in the end we had to settle for a size larger than I needed and with low heels in black. A least they were relatively cheap being intended for ladies of a more elderly age and not for high fashion. It caused us to laugh when the girl told me. "Wear black stockings and a little black chiffon scarf in your hair, and you'll look fine," the older assistant told me. "In any case, with your height and size, you'll dominate most ladies there."

"Pete, would you bring your camera to my house tonight please? I want some photos of me in my ball gown to show the lads at work. I'm trying it on tonight so I hope that it fits. It's only a few days to the bloody ball. God I'm nervous as hell of going." He came and sat with Laura while I fiddled with the dress. It seemed to show an awful lot of flesh that I normally kept hidden but I also knew these functions were often dating agencies and the young debutantes showed as much of their credentials as they dared and I had already guessed that mummy and daddy were putting me on show too. Pete's face went bright red when he saw me and might have run hand not Laura been there.

"You look absolutely lovely Debbie," she enthused, "Doesn't she Pete. You've got to get some good pictures of her so we can look back and say, there is a real woman under all those clothes she usually wears." In the end he did a pretty creditable job and took two rolls so there were plenty of pictures to choose from.

The fateful day arrived. Fortunately I swapped my workday and had been to the hairdresser in the morning. Mummy had hers done too but I was more nervous of going to that ball than I was climbing the biggest crane in a strong wind. Finally I dressed, the taxi arrived and we entered the manor and were 'announced'. Daddy looked very distinguished in his long-tailed black suit and red bow tie, and mummy looked elegant all in black. When I saw the sequinned and glittering dresses of some of the other young girls I thought I looked a bit plain but so many said I looked lovely that I began to believe it. Later I wondered just how much was truth and how much was so called 'etiquette'.

I was soon introduced to our hosts and Lady Brackenbury was indeed very charming and showed an interest in what I did. Lord Brackenbury also seemed very gracious and I felt he was a pretty honest man. Minutes later mother guided me to their lordships son, Roderick. Really I don't know why, but I took an instant dislike to him. Whether it was his false smile or his limp handshake, I don't know but it may also have been that at that instant I caught on to mother's plan. I bet she almost had us married after we'd shaken hands and he'd kissed my cheeks. I noticed he also took a long look down my cleavage causing me to blush and I thought it odd that I could walk naked into a shower with five other men and not be embarrassed and yet I objected to him seeing just the tops of my tits. He piled on the charm and paid me all the right compliments, telling me that I was beautiful, more beautiful in his eyes than all the others in the room. "Bloody liar," I thought but I let him continue. It's nice to receive compliments even if you know they are not sincere. I found out later that he thought that because I was often the only woman on a building site, I was an easy lay and he fancied a rather bigger woman to take to his bed that night. Mummy ushered me away when Roderick took my hand and suggested that we go to the dance floor. No doubt she thought her plan was working well.

An area had been cleared in an adjoining room and set up with disco lights that flashed kaleidoscope colours and kept the place half in darkness. I detested that and had managed to avoid most of the disco dances at school. Now he led me on to the floor and into a cacophony of loud sound. "I should have brought my ear defenders," I muttered but Roderick didn't hear. Instead he pulled me tight to his body and we started to smooch around the floor. At least it was easy for me not to tread on his toes. Before long I felt his hands squeezing my bum cheeks and I firmly moved his hand higher up my back. Seconds later they were back again and this time I left them knowing that the record was nearly over. I could feel his erection against my thighs but I said nothing and it wasn't very noticeable in the semi darkness when he led me to a table in a gloomy little alcove. The table had a 'Reserved' card on it and while he was getting me a glass of wine, I wondered if he, or mummy even, had pre-planned to seduce me or if it was for any other girl he chanced to meet.

When he returned he sat close alongside me on the bench seat and put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him. His fingers started toying with my tits. "Keep your hands to yourself!" I hissed loudly in his ear but he just laughed and started kissing me and then worked downwards until I felt his tongue in my cleavage. Forcibly I pushed him away, torn between not wanting to make a scene and punching him where it would hurt most.

"Come on," he said in, "We all know you like it and get it all the time from the blokes you work with." He started kissing my lips again and I have to admit, he could do that very nicely. No doubt he'd had a good deal of practice but I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the situation and where his hands were roaming so when the next dance started I suggested we go onto the floor.

"Keep your fucking hands to yourself you bloody lecher," I hissed in my building site voice when once again they squeezed and fondled my arse. A nearby couple must have heard because they looked round sharply and then grinned. He ignored my warning and slid his hands inside the slit of my dress and he tried to feel my cunt. "To hell with it," I said to myself, "I'm not letting that odious little sod get away with it. Two can play at that game. He's hard again, I can feel it through my dress." I inserted my right hand between our bodies and felt his prick. He, thinking I'd succumbed to his charms, allowed me a little more space and I was able to pull his zip down and get my hand inside.

"We can go to my room and fuck there," he told me but that certainly wasn't my intention. My hand made its way down his shaft until I could wrap my fingers around his balls. Simultaneously I gripped them tightly with one hand and pushed his chest with the other. His scream as he fell to the floor brought the music to a halt and, moments later, the room lights came on. Roderick was lying in a foetal position, his hands cupping his wounded testicles and groaning in agony. I knew that I had hurt him but I was furious and didn't care. Given the chance I would have kicked him.

"Perhaps next time when a girl says no, you'll know she means no! It will take more than a fucking little runt like you to get into my knickers," I continued to berate him using my work language until sobbing I was led away.

"I'll get my own back on you, you building site dyke," he yelled as I left.

Somehow I found myself in the kitchen and a maid whose badge said, 'Ellen' was offering me tissues. "Some of us have wished to do that. Glad to see he's got what he deserves for once," she whispered just before mummy and daddy came in and started on me.

"It's all your fucking faults," I stormed back at them, "You bloody arranged this when you knew what he was like and you knew I wouldn't like it. Now get the hell out of my life and stop meddling in my affairs. I shall be out of your house in a couple of days." They could see I was in no mood for argument and further words on their part would incite me further. They left and I calmed down and quietly asked Ellen if she would phone for a taxi for me.

While I waited, Lady Brackenbury came in. She seemed more amused than upset. "You've certainly made your mark on this party Deborah. It will be one the guests will remember and talk about for many years and even now you are the sole topic of conversation. Be careful though, Roderick is not one to forgive and forget."

Christmas came and went. Two days after the incident at Lord Brackenbury's, Benny and a couple of the lads borrowed a van and moved my stuff into 'Uncle Joe's', as the house became known. I'd had to tell them the whole story because they'd already heard exaggerated rumours as one of the temporary staff employed for the party had a boyfriend on the site. "If he causes you any more trouble Debs, just let us know and we'll make sure he sings with a high pitched voice from then on," Benny averred.

The firm closed down from Christmas Eve until January 4th and Pete came round frequently. I enjoyed his company and I think he did mine. Neither of us liked being alone. I missed having Laura to talk to but she often popped in and kept me abreast of the goings on at home. Daddy had virtually disowned me and I was not the flavour of the month with mummy either. Neither visited over Christmas, nor did they buy me a present or even send a card.

Pete gave me a nice set of watchmaker's screwdrivers and I gave him one of the new digital callipers. Such was the nature of our relationship that we could give tools as presents rather than fancy things neither would use later. Gradually he came out of his shell and would talk a little about himself. He assumed he still had a father but had no idea where he was. He'd left with another woman a year or so before his mother had died. Pete was at college at the time studying for his surveying exams. These he passed without a problem but, because he was so shy, he didn't get the promotion he was due. His inability to talk and negotiate with clients prevented him from climbing the surveyor's ladder. He was stuck with doing practical routine survey work and writing up planning applications.

Several times I tried to get him a little more interested in me personally but even after managing a long kiss under the mistletoe I could never even get a cuddle out of him and I was almost resigned to our lives never getting together. I liked him, I liked him a lot but I began to see that we would always be just good friends and not lovers. Some of the gossip concerning what I had supposedly done to Roderick may not have helped and I sensed he was a little more circumspect with me afterwards. However, I enjoyed his company and our hours together in the workshop. He may not have had the wide knowledge of Uncle Joe, but he showed a lot of ingenuity and was prepared to experiment with techniques. I liked that in him.

Winter in the building industry is often a stop/start time according to the weather and the first few days back we had snow and high winds which meant I couldn't operate the crane and spent several days on the ground doing manual work. Benny and the crew teased me unmercifully but it was all in good humour and I gave as good as I got. For the first fortnight, I only operated the crane on three days and on one of them it was at about the limit of the wind strength the Health and Safety Executive deemed safe. Some of the gusts were actually well over which was a bit scary, not just for me swaying in the cab but the load swung too. Then we had a period of bright calm weather and I agreed to come into work earlier and get the crane running so we could try and finish the roof and glazing of one block to allow the inside work to start. Benny insisted I use the safety harness when I climbed the tower because the rungs were icy and slippery and I was glad he did as my feet slipped on two occasions. I probably wouldn't have fallen because I had hold on the rungs above me, but it was reassuring to feel the rope hold me. "Just testing that you're awake down there," I called out.

"We're just testing the rope to see if it will hold your weight," Benny yelled back.

I agreed to go in early again the next morning because the forecast was for the quiet, clear weather to continue. However, I didn't reckon on Roderick deciding to get his own back that evening. When I'd parked the car in the garage and walked round to go in back door, he and three of his mates waylaid me. They were ready and prepared for me to put up a struggle but they had surprise on their side as well as the weariness from having done a long day's work. Roderick hit me hard in the stomach and knocked the breath out of me and two of his mates grabbed my arms and bound my wrists behind my back. Of course I swore and cursed them but they quickly silenced me with a cloth around my mouth. Almost helpless now, I tried kicking but they kept well clear of my steel-toed boots as they pushed me into my house and forced me into the bedroom. "Not so cocky now are we Miss Deborah Wesley-Harris and you'll be even less so by the time we've finished with you. You wouldn't take my prick willingly at the ball, now you won't have any choice and my friends can have you as well. That is after you've paid the price for the pain you caused me." I struggled and kicked but with four of them and my arms tied it was hopeless. They could, and indeed I realised they would, rape me and probably hurt me as well. Roderick smirked at my predicament. "You'll be pleased to know that I am all healed now and my prick is again in full working order and I can feel it rising now ready to do its work. I hope you're cunt's not too sloppy from all the fucks from your many of your boy friends on the building site today but if it is it will be even sloppier before we leave."

Two of them sat on my legs while the others removed my boots and socks and then they held my ankles while Roderick removed my trousers and long johns. He of course commented on my unladylike underwear but warmth was more important on a building site. "We're in luck boys," Roderick commented when his fingers probed my vagina, "It doesn't feel as if she's been fucked today. Probably too cold out there. Where's the rest of the rope Ralph? Good. Tie her ankles well apart. It was most considerate of you Debbie to buy a bed with corner posts." There was nothing I could do to prevent them spreading my legs obscenely and tying my ankles to the posts. I could tell all of them had erections pushing their trouser fronts forward and the one they called Ralph had even freed his and had it on display. "Okay boys, now let's get the rest of her stuff off but be careful of her fists when we untie her wrists." Roderick had good reason to be wary and I did manage to blacken the eye of the one they called Jesus before they had my arms spread wide and tide to the posts at the bed head.

"That was a mistake Debbie," Jesus snarled, "You'll pay for that shortly." When Roderick started undressing they all followed suit and I was made to look at all four pricks while they boasted on what they were going to do with them. According to them, they were God's gift to women but none was overly well endowed. Something to be thankful for. "Push those pillows under her arse so her cunt is at a better height for fucking," Roderick ordered and I felt my buttocks being lifted ready for the onslaught. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the horror of my situation. Only once before did I remember being so utterly helpless. Visions of the time I was bent over the desk on the school stage while Miss Sommerville thrashed me sped through my brain. This ordeal I guessed would be worse. Hands were already cruelly mauling my tits and pinching my nipples. Other hands were poking my vagina and nipping my clit. For a short while I just wanted them to get on and rape me and then go.

"CRACK!" A horrendous pain seared across the top of my thighs. Had I not been gagged my yell would have been heard for miles. Through half closed eyes I saw Roderick with a belt wrapped around his fist. His arm went up and, "CRACK", he brought the belt down with considerable force. The pain was terrible but worse was to come. He climbed on the bed and stood with his feet either side of my stomach and he made sure I knew exactly where the next stroke would land. "You hurt my balls bitch, now your cunt is going to be sore, inside and out." After the ninth stroke directly on my cunt, I passed out. I came too when Ralph splashed water on my face. Roderick was already between my thighs and waiting until he knew I was awake before thrusting his prick in a hard as he could. It didn't take long before he shot his load and Ralph took his place.

My head swam with the pain but I remained conscious. Zeke entered me when Ralph withdrew. I prayed my ordeal would soon be over as none of them so far had been able to last very long. Jesus though, when his turn came, spat in my face and reminded me that I had to pay for his black eye. Picking up the discarded belt, he quickly lambasted my tits, while the others laughed at the way they moved. It must have seemed to them that I was about to pass out again because the beating stopped and had his turn at fucking me.

It was with some relief that I noticed they were dressing and I earnestly prayed I would be released. "Come on lads, we must get back to the manor in time for dinner so no one thinks we've been out. Deborah dear, we're going to leave you now but we'll be back tomorrow for another session and then we'll turn you into a real chick. A feathered one; we'll supply the tar and there should be plenty of feathers in those nice soft pillows under your arse. Sleep well dear. Think of us and imagine what we'll do tomorrow. I'm taking your keys so no one will be able to get in except us." He kissed me on the cheek and laughing, they all left.

The night seemed very long and alternately I wept and cursed. The ropes chaffed my wrists and ankles and the gag cut into my mouth. I tried chewing the cloth and managed to get part way through but that was only enough to ease the pressure a little. Perhaps my groans came out a little louder but I couldn't talk or shout. "Why did I tell Pete not to call?" I asked myself. The reason I'd given seemed a good one at the time in that with all the extra work hours, I just wanted a little time to myself before I had to go to bed. Typically, Pete accepted that and didn't turn up the previous evening, and I knew he wouldn't today. He though, was the only one with a key to my back door, apart from the fact that Roderick now had my set. All night long various scenarios of what might happen when they came again went through my mind. "What will Benny do when I don't turn up for work? Probably he'll phone for Jason to replace me and get on with finishing the roof. Will Pete turn up after work? Probably not as he won't know that I have been absent and he doesn't normally come to see me until later in the evening. Roderick and sods will have been and done whatever other dreadful things they intended to do to me. Will they really tar and feather me? I've read somewhere they did it to witches or harlots in medieval times. Sounds like something sodding Rod might do, especially if they're on drugs. From that wild glazed look I think they might have been tonight. Fuck, my cunt and tits feels like they're on fire. It'll be no good going to the police. Lord Brackenbury might be sympathetic to my plight but he'll certainly see to it that his son doesn't go to prison." I never slept a wink that night. If I shut my eyes the pain seemed worse and all the time I kept reliving my terrible beating and the rapes and wondering not only what they would do to me when they came but what would happen when I was found afterwards, even if I was still alive.

Some time during the night I peed on one of the pillows under me. I tried to hold it for as long as I could but it was too much. The acid stung my sore cunt and made the pain worse until it subsided again. For a while I tried not to watch the clock and then I tried to amuse myself watching the digital numbers change. 7:00 a.m. I'd promised to he in work by then. 7:30 a.m. The phone rang. "I wonder if that's Benny trying to wake me up?" It rang again half an hour later. Several more times it rang but I never knew who it was but I guessed it was Benny getting agitated by not having a crane operator. The last time it rang the clock showed 9:05. At 9:35 I heard the back door open. "Oh God no! They've come to make an early start on me!" I moaned into my gag.

"Debbie? Debbie where are you?" Pete's voice raised my hopes but what would he think when he found me in this condition? I kept groaning as loudly as I could and heard him climbing the stairs, still calling my name and then he was at the open bedroom door. "Oh my God Debbie, what happened? Who did this to you?" It surprised me a little that he didn't hesitate but came straight in and undid my gag and then the other bindings. I just hugged him tightly and cried until his jacket was wet. In halting words I gave him the briefest outline of what happened and asked him to help me into the bath. "No," he said, "The police will want to take samples. I'll phone them now."

"No Pete. It will only make things worse. Help me into the bath and then let Benny know I won't be in today." Before I could stop him, he not only told Benny that I wouldn't be at work but gave an account of what happened. When he came back I asked him to help me wash and he did so with every care. I was still in the tub when the doorbell rang. Pete let Benny in. I started to get up and put a towel around myself but the movements were painful and I was naked when Benny walked in.

"Fucking hell Debs. That bastard did that to you? I'll castrate the sod. You just see if I don't." I'd never seen Benny as angry as he gazed at my bruised and welted tits and stomach. Pete found a towel and patted me dry and helped me put on a robe and led me to the guestroom while Benny made some coffee. They gave me a couple of paracetamol, which helped reduce to pain a little but not the trauma, and I kept crying and laughing by turns. Gradually the pair of them eased the story out of me and in turn I asked how Pete came by at this hour.

Benny answered. "When you didn't turn up at seven, I thought you'd overslept and when you didn't answer the phone, I wrongly guessed you were on your way in. I phoned several more times and began to worry that you might be ill because you always let us know if you can't make it in. When Pete's office opened, I phoned him. He was worried too and thought you might have been overdoing the work or had a fall and said he would take the firm's van and check. You know the rest. The thing is for you to rest now and I'll have a think about what we're going to do with those fucking sadistic bastards. Pete, you'll stay here with her I presume." Pete nodded. "Then I'll get back and see if we can come up with a plan. Take my mobile phone and don't answer yours for whatever reason. If Roddy phones let them think you're still tied up. I'll park my car out of sight down the lane and then I'll come back and take the firm's van. That's will be more difficult to hide."

"You've already got a plan," Pete remarked.

"Just the germ of an idea. Need to thrash it around with the others. They know a little of what went on because Flash overheard Pete's phone call. The main thing is to let them think that you are still alone and helpless so don't put any lights on that weren't on when they left."

When Benny had gone I asked Pete to put some burn cream on my welts. Some of his shyness returned but with a little urging he carefully rubbed it on my tits and around my cunt. I could see he was aroused and although I was worn out with the ordeal, I decided to up the stakes with him. "Pete, Thank you for all you have done and I know it has been difficult for you but I feel awfully tired now and would like to go to sleep."

"That's okay Debbie, I'll go into the workshop out of way and leave you in peace."

"No, Pete, that's not what I want. Pete…if you love me, get undressed and come in bed with me. I shall sleep better if I know you are close by and your body will keep the duvet from pressing down on me quite so hard. I know you won't try and do anything to me." For a moment or two I thought he might die of shock. Was it the fact that I asked him to undress? Or the words, 'if you love me' that caused it? The expression on his face was priceless and he blushed the deepest red but he turned and slowly undressed, folding each item of clothing and putting it on the chair. I'm sure he was trying to will his prick to go down before he got into bed but it didn't so he tried to use his hands to cover it. The sight made me smile. "Don't worry love, no need to hide it, just don't try and use it until I've healed a bit." I pulled him as close as I dared without hurting my tits and I did in fact sleep until Benny's mobile went off at one o'clock.

After enquiring how I was, he went on, "It's all set. We'll be round soon after four. Gerry's going to bring us in his van and he’ll park in the village car park. Six of us will walk to yours so leave your back door unlocked until we're all in. Gerry will keep a look out and will let us know when a car turns into your drive. They won't know what bloody hit them once they're inside your house."

Pete got up; he was still erect but didn't bother to hide it when he dressed. He made some lunch and then we went into the room Joe used as his workshop library and where we wouldn't be seen from the drive. While it was still light we looked through some of the books but when the sky darkened, I sat alongside him on the old settee that I had yet to replace and put his arms around my shoulder. For once he didn't pull away but held me close. I needed that. "I'm not hurting you am I?" he asked in a concerned voice. For a reply I kissed him. After taking more pills, the pain had died down considerably if I didn't move too much, but the welts were now livid colours and I didn't dare to wear any tight clothing. My warm, quilted robe had to serve.

At 4:15 Benny and five of the biggest men from his work group came in carrying a few bags and Pete showed them into the library. The place was pretty dark with only the landing and my bedroom light on. "When Gerry gives us the signal I want you to go into the bedroom and put that cloth in your mouth, you don't have to tie it, and when you hear them moan loudly as if you're in a panic that they are here. Can you do that Debs?" Benny asked.

"No problem."

Benny then gave instructions as to where the others would hide and what they should do when Roderick and his cohorts entered. Five o'clock came, then quarter past, and we began to wonder if they would come. Yesterday, I'd been home later and had no idea how long they'd been waiting.

Benny's mobile rang. "Car just turning in the drive." I scuttled upstairs as fast as I could and held the unchewed end of the cloth across my mouth.

The key grated in the lock; the door opened and I heard laughter. "We're here Deborah darling," Roderick called up the stairs, "I hope you are already for us."

I didn't have a chance to do my moaning act. Benny's voice boomed out, "She certainly is fuckers and so are we." There seemed to be a brief scuffle and then cries of pain and yells that obviously came from Roderick's friends. In the few minutes it took for me to get downstairs the four men were in the main workshop with their hands tied.

Roderick screamed when he saw me. "You and your friends will pay for this bitch. Yesterday will seem like…" Flash shoved an oily rag in his mouth and taped it in place. The other three had their mouths taped too. I noticed with some satisfaction the Jesus' eye had turned a yellow black colour and I have no doubt he would have turned his spite on me even more had I still been trussed to the bed.

"They really were going to tar and feather you Debbie," Colin held up a tin of black varnish, which is today's substitute for tar. "I guess it won't go to waste. We did bring some so there'll be more than enough."

"I daresay you saw more than enough of their pricks yesterday Debs, so if you want to leave, that'll be okay but we're going to be stripping them, like they did you. I don't think they'll be waving their cocks around for long cuz we'll tenderise them and their arses a bit and give their arseholes a good raping. Then we'll cover the evidence with a nice pair of tar and feather panties." Benny grinned when he saw the reaction from the four men. I wanted to stay and see them get whatever the lads had planned and I wondered who was going to do the raping. I never suspected that any of the lads was queer. Stripping the four didn't take long. They were outnumbered and the lads were all far stronger than the so called 'society boys'. I felt Pete's hand close on mine as if to reassure me when the men's pricks were on display. I, though, felt only disgust and anger at what they had done last night; they needed to get a taste of the horror of what they had done to me and it looked as if they were going to get it. Roderick and his friends were now squirming and feebly struggling against their bonds, two of them were even crying. So much for the macho image they tried to project to the girls.

Just as he was at work, Benny took charge. I watched as he removed the broad leather belt from around his waist. Normally it had a workpouch and his mobile phone clipped to it but they'd been removed. "Debbie, you may think that what I'm going to ask you to do is a bit of a cheek and if you say no, that will be okay and no one will hold it against you." I wondered what Benny was going to say next but somehow I knew and it was confirmed when he went on, "Debs, I've seen what these fuckers did to you, Pete's seen but the lads have only heard the stories and probably don't have any real idea of the severity. As I said, you don't have to show us but it might give the lads a better idea of how to treat these bastards if you did. You know none of the lads will touch you, despite the many jokes they've made about what they would do if they had half a chance." For a few moments I hesitated and then thought, "Hells bells, why not?"

The lads gasped and cursed when they saw the state of my tits and pubic area and I knew they would not show any mercy to my attackers. Neither would I. The tears that flowed down some of their cheeks didn't evoke any sympathy from me. "Take a good look Rod and you other three buggers!" I swore at them, "Maybe parts of you will be this colour by the time we've done with you."

"They certainly will," Benny confirmed, "And we'll start with that bugger." He indicated Zeke. "Push him tight against the table and lay his raping prick on the top. Leave Roddy till last so he can see what he is going to get and worse." It was quite obvious to me, and the victims, what was going to happen. Benny lashed the belt hard across the semi-hard prick. Zeke jerked back on the impact and I knew he would have screamed loudly had not the tape prevented it. His poor manhood started to shrivel but not before Benny hit it again. Even I winced at the impact and I felt Pete wrap his arm around my shoulders.

Colin found a pair of tongs hanging near Joe's brazing hearth, (I still thought of the workshop as Uncle Joe's), "Hang on Benny, I can stretch the tiny thing with these and turn it around so you can do all sides." He gripped the end of Zeke's prick tightly with the iron tongs. That in itself must have been painful but then he stretched it and turned it slightly each time Benny brought the strap down. I don't think Zeke would have remained standing had not two of the lads held him. After six strokes they let him collapse on the floor in a corner and thrust Jesus forward. "He's the sod who whipped my tits," I hissed. They gave him twelve in two lots of six and treated Roderick to a similar number. They told him that he would get twice as much of everything as the others. All four men were howling.

Zeke feebly struggled when he was brought to the bench a second time but he was no match for our muscular builders even if his hands weren't secured. They bent him over the bench ready to whip his arse. "Do you want to do it Debs?" Benny asked.

Before I could reply, Inks interrupted. "No. Sorry Deb but you're in no condition to swing the belt hard enough to give them what they deserve. I'll do it on your behalf." Inks or Inky was a huge coal black man with white teeth and a ready smile. His nickname might not be politically correct these days but since childhood he'd been called that and it became accepted as his name by him and everyone without thinking about any derogatory connotations. I always got on well with him and we frequently teased each other. One morning when I went too far he'd chased and caught me and carried me like a child up on to the roof of a portable office and then took the ladder away. I had to sit there through the whole of lunch break until I was needed to work the crane again. When I came down I gave him a mock punch and threatened him with tortures worse than death but the hug he gave me took the breath from my body. If Inks wielded the belt they would certainly feel it. We all saw the way it flattened Zeke's bum cheeks and heard the loud report when the belt landed. "A dozen like that should make you think twice before you torture and rape a lady again," Inks taunted the man. Zeke passed out after the tenth so they stopped and started on the next. Jesus took sixteen of his allotted two dozen before they released him but they didn't let Rod off as easily. When he passed out on the thirteenth, they revived him with water and Inks carried on until he passed out again. They revived him for a second time and Inks gave him the full amount.

"Thanks Inks," Benny was in charge again, "I'm sure they won't want to sit again for a day or two." Everyone laughed. "Now you fuckers," he addressed Rod and his friends again, "You've had payment for the beating you gave Debs, now you have to pay for the raping of her. Put that Zeke over the bench again and let him experience what a rape feels like."

"Who is going to rape him?" I couldn't see any of the lads getting ready to do it and on the building site, the last thing anyone wanted was to be considered homosexual. Benny fished some packages from one of the bags and brought out some colourful, penis shaped dildos, still in their blister packs. "You got any grease in this place Debs?" Benny asked, "Forgot to get the Vaseline." Pete got him the tin and returned to my side. "You're wondering where I got them?" I nodded. "That little sex shop on the corner of Prior Street. The bloke in there is the brother of one of the builders on the Arco office block so he went and got them for us at half price."

"The Arco builders know about this as well?" I was pretty shocked but I suppose I shouldn't have been. Any gossip quickly went around the whole complex and then into the town.

"Yeah. Those fuckers won't be able to show their faces in town again without having to suffer a lot of fucking grief. His Lordship might be able to prevent any prosecutions but they won't get away with it and not just from the tickling we're giving them." By then he'd ripped one of the fake pricks out of the packaging. "My God I hope a woman never wants to get into one of these packs in a hurry!" he grinned as he handed the prick to Baz to grease up.

"It's a bit bigger and harder than his own," Baz joked as he showed it to Zeke. I knew some men took pricks up their arse but the plastic one was on the large side even for a woman's cunt and Baz had some difficulty in forcing it in even when two boys pulled the already sore cheeks apart. Zeke writhed in pain and moaned into his gag but eventually it went in and only the fake balls remained on view. Baz pushed it in and out a few times to simulate a rape and Zeke tried in vain to release it. Both Ralph and Roderick took the fake pricks easily which caused all sorts of raucous speculation and comments but as both men were gagged they couldn't answer.

Uncle Joe had a portable hoist that he used to lift his traction engine and steamroller on to the bench when he wanted to work on them. Benny had another use for it. Ralph was first this time. "You were going to tar and feather our Debs. I presume you were going to an all over job but we being kind, working folk, have decided only to give you each a pair of feather pants," Benny informed them. Ralph shook his head, no, but it didn't stop the boys fastening his hands to the hook of the hoist and his ankles to two of the feet. "We'd better put some paper or a cloth down to protect your floor Debs. You won't want tar all over it."

"We can use that old bit of tarpaulin we put down when painting the bedrooms," Pete suggested and when I agreed, he went and found it. While he was gone the men were becoming more and more agitated and Ralph kept trying to shake himself free. I noticed his arse and flaccid prick were turning a deep red colour now and by morning would be vivid purple. In some ways I was sorry for them but after the hell they'd put me through I wasn't overly concerned.

As soon as they'd pushed the hoist over the tarpaulin, Colin started brushing on the tar with a stiff bristled brush. With the cold weather it was thick and stiff and he had to use the brush almost as a trowel. "We sent one of the office girls to the chicken farm to get a bag of feathers so we've plenty so we can give them a good coating," Benny told me.

"There's also the pillow that I pissed on last night. They're the feathers they were going to use on me." I limped upstairs and when I returned Colin was plastering Ralph's arse crack with chicken feathers. All the others wore our industrial rubber gloves so I guessed that every one wanted a turn. I noticed the fake prick was still in his arse but more or less hidden by the tar and his real prick was plastered down between his legs. “They’re going to have an awful job even with plenty of turps to remove all that tar and it will be a painful job getting it out of the hair too and not withstanding the effects of their thrashings. You would have had the same problem so don't feel sorry for them," I told myself. By the time Colin had finished, Ralph looked as if he was wearing a pair of feathered baby pants. They released him and tied his hands behind his back again so he could not disturb the feathers.

After watching them start on Zeke, Pete and I went and made a large pot of tea and by the time we returned they'd found another brush and were doing Jesus as well. Inks held him in place but there now didn't seem to be much resistance. Ralph was standing and sobbing and I found out later that the tar, although used cold, burned their sore flesh as bad as if we'd used one of the warming muscle creams. Not enough to cause any blisters but sufficient to make the sore areas even more uncomfortable. Roderick tried to put up a bit of a fight and managed to get a hand free when they went to tie him to the hoist but he was quickly subdued. They decided to give him a bib as well as pants so they tarred and feathered his hairy chest with the smelly feathers from my pillow. "Unless you want us to continue the feathers down your legs, you'll stand still where we've put you until we've had a cuppa and are ready to take you home," Benny told them. They were having trouble standing so Flash suggested we leaned them over the bench like we did when Inks belted their arses and that worked out reasonably well except for Rod who they left tied to the hoist. The wait allowed the tar to dry a little more.

"I think it best if you and the boys disappear when you drop off the chickens," I suggested to Benny while we drank our tea. I'll go in and see his lordship so he knows exactly why we did this."

"You're not going in there alone, Debbie. I'm coming with you," Pete stated. I didn't want him involved but he was adamant and I had to give in. A little support would come in useful. We discussed it further and I agreed when Benny insisted that I phoned him half an hour after he left.

Ellen looked at me in complete surprise when she answered my jangle of the ancient front door bell. I suppose I really did look a comical sight; woolly hat, padded HiViz jacket over my quilted dressing gown, long woollen socks and my orange work boots. When I'd dressed ready to go, the boys all fell about laughing but I was past caring. The main thing was that it was warm and not tight on my chest or in my groin. Pete drove me in my car. Flash took three of the lads in Roderick's and the rest sat in the front of Gerry's van with Roderick and his mates kneeling on the floor in the back. Apart from their feathered pants, they were still naked, their clothes and other belongings were all jumbled in a plastic bag so we couldn't be accused of stealing. "Debbie?" Ellen said questioningly.

"Good evening Ellen. I would like to see Lord and Lady Brackenbury if you please." I heard the boys giggle. They'd heard me use 'the voice' when we larked about sometimes but never in a serious context.

"Are you sure that is a good idea Miss?" It was then she saw Roderick and the others being hauled out of the van and her mouth opened wide.

"Yes, Ellen I think it would be a very good idea, don't you? Perhaps it would also be a good idea if you opened the back door for Roddy and his friends. I think they are still dripping from their new panties."

"Come in please miss. I'll inform his lordship that you are here." Pete and I went inside and followed her into the kitchen. "I hope you know what you're doing Debbie," she whispered, "You were not the most popular woman with him after what you did to Roderick at the ball. He had to walk wide legged all over the Christmas break." She gave a giggle and went to open the back door. The four men were pushed inside and their clothes and a container of turps placed inside the door.

"Don't forget to phone to say you're okay Debs. We won't be far away." Benny's voice came through the door as he quietly closed it.

For a few moments Ellen just stared at the men as they hobbled around the kitchen trying to find some way of getting comfortable. They were very cold and no doubt their feet were frozen from the walk on the gravel path. I knew they were trying to tell Ellen to untie them but she just stared with an amused smile on her face. "Hadn't you better inform his lordship that I'm here Ellen?" I asked.

"Yes miss. Straightaway miss." She cottoned on to why I'd said it. Several minutes passed before she returned. "Sorry miss. They're dressing for dinner and will be down shortly. They didn't wish to see you until I said you'd brought master Roderick and his friends and they were a little…er… indisposed." She grinned widely when she said, 'indisposed'.

Lord Brackenbury did not seem pleased to see us. Ellen showed us into the drawing room. "What is the meaning of this intrusion? Why are you wearing such outlandish garb girl? Who is this man? And what have you done to Roderick this time that he is again indisposed?"

"One question at a time please sir," I replied sweetly. "First let me introduce my fiancée Mr. Peter Hinds. Peter, Lord Brackenbury…" I made a formal introduction and they shook hands.

"Where is Roderick?" Lady Brackenbury enquired.

"In the kitchen ma'am."

"Ellen, bring Roderick in here if you please," his Lordship shouted at the poor girl.

"Sir, I don't think that is a good idea. Sorry sir, it will be better if you come into the kitchen."

"Why on earth should I do that? What has this builder's mate done to him this time?"

"I think we should go and see dear," Lady Brackenbury interjected.

My heart was thumping and causing more pain in my tits as Pete held my hand and we followed them into the kitchen. "Great God alive! What have you done this time? Did you do this to them?" Lord Brackenbury's face showed his anger.

"With a little help from my friends." I opened my coat and robe and showed them my swollen and battered body. "They did this without any help." Ellen, who stood watching, gasped in horror at the sight and Lady Brackenbury winced.

"And raped her and left her tied to her bed all night intending to repeat the rapes and beatings tonight and then coat her in tar and feathers all over, not like them. It's even their own tar we used on them." I was really amazed at the way Pete spoke up. "And you won't be able to hide what they did to Debbie sir. The whole site and half the town…"

"Untie them Ellen. Don't just stand there looking." His Lordship cut into Pete's explanation but Pete carried on.

"The whole site and half the town knows what they did to her and they're lucky that only a small group came to redress their crime. Nearly everyone on the site wanted to come and it could have turned into a lynch mob."

"Throw the bastards out father!" Roderick's hands were free and he'd ripped the tape from his mouth and spat out the rag. "Have them arrested. Have the whole mob brought to justice. Have them whipped, flogged, tortured."

"No, not yet. I need to think about it. You don't seem entirely blameless. Perhaps Ellen will help you clean up. I don't know what they'd use to get that stuff off and it's going to make an awful mess," His Lordship still looked angrily at me.

"The men left some turps behind so I suppose that's what they should use to remove the stuff. I'll put plenty of newspaper down but they'll have to remove it from each other. It would be most improper for me to do so sir. I understand they are not wearing anything under the feathers and if my boyfriend found out they could be in further trouble. I really don’t think cleaning tar off naked men is part of my duty sir. In any case we know they are familiar with each other and will know what parts hurt the most and be more careful than I would sir." Ellen made quite a little speech.

All four men were now free and complaining bitterly and trying to find a comfortable position to stand and support themselves a little with their arms.

"You're right, of course Ellen," Lady Brackenbury spoke quietly. "Please clear a good space for them and put plenty of paper down. Henry, why not invite this young couple to dinner? I've a feeling there is much more to this than we yet know. From the look in Roderick's eyes I think they have been on the pills again and if we call the police, they'll almost certainly drug test them."

"I'm sure they were yesterday too Violet. I didn't believe Jesus story about his black eye then. I've no doubt that was your doing Deborah."

I nodded to his lordship. "Yes sir. I did manage to get one hit in before they completely overpowered me. It led me to get my breasts beaten by him later so I came of worst in the end."

"Don't forget to phone, Debbie." Pete reminded me.

"You okay Debs?" Benny's voice came through clearly.

"Yes, for the moment. Seems we have a dinner invite. I'll phone again in an hour so please keep it by you just in case."

"Are you really dressed for that?" I heard Benny laugh and Lady Brackenbury must have heard it too because she called out, "Sometimes we like to have someone who is different."

 

It was about an hour later, when we'd finished eating and the effect of the last lot of painkillers was diminishing and the pain was increasing that Ellen brought in the coffee. Violet, they'd said to use their first names as this was an informal meeting, asked her, "How are the boys getting on Ellen?"

"The feathers are all off ma'am but there is still a lot of tar in the more difficult to get at places and they are having to trim off much of the hair down there. It seems they had quite a thrashing ma'am. Roderick and Ralph have taken those things out of their bottoms but the others haven't got that far. They're all hobbling about like old men and complaining about what happened and what they would like to do to Miss Debbie. They certainly intended to do it to you Miss Deborah. When I offered them the Anadin tablets Zeke said they dare not take them otherwise they would be violently sick because of the reaction. He didn't say what with but it must be with whatever they took to hype themselves up. The kitchen stinks like a paint factory at the moment ma'am and the floor is in a terrible mess. I've put a fan heater in there partly to blow the smell out and partly because they say the warmth helps soften the tar. They spilt some of the turps so there's not too much left for them to finish cleaning themselves."

"Leave them to it Ellen. I think we've heard the truth of the matter over dinner and I think Deborah will need to go home shortly to get some pain relief of her own. Put the dishes in the machine and get off home out of their way. I'll phone our security company and get them to send someone to keep an eye on them." I'd begun to have a lot more respect for Violet after we'd talked over dinner. She was quietly spoken but I realised that she was the 'power behind the throne'. Henry, Lord Brackenbury blustered and raised his voice a number of times but Violet always calmed him down and brought him round to her point of view. Pete once again retreated into his shell and only said a few words when asked directly.

"You are staying with me tonight." I virtually ordered Pete but he didn't need any persuading and I pretended to be reluctant to sleep in my own bed so we had to sleep in the guest bed. He seemed unusually quiet when we were alone. I found out why when we were snuggled as close as I dared and not hurt my chest.

"Am I really your fiancée Debbie?" he asked.

"Would you like to be Pete?"

"Oh yes. I've wanted that since you took me to the Model Engineering Club that first time. I've wanted to be with you like this for all the time we were together. But, I couldn't say anything in case you might not want me. I'm only a lowly surveyor, hardly noticed by anyone. You always seemed so far above me and so popular that I didn't dare to say anything and I nearly died when you kissed me under the mistletoe at Christmas. You're rich and I hardly have much to spare after paying the exorbitant rent on my room."

"Shush," I said to him, "Stop putting yourself down. Kiss me please and then just lie quietly and hold my hand for now. I can't do much more at the moment but later, when the pain has died…" It wasn't long before I was asleep. I felt safe with Pete by my side even though I could feel he had a hard-on.

Pete never went back to his own place except to collect things and after two months, gave the place up and 'officially' moved in with me. I know the first week must have been very difficult for him. My nightdress, although thin, seemed to catch on my tender nipples so I slept naked and Pete did too so as not to make me feel out of place. I also made him put cream on my welted places and all this frequently caused him to become aroused whereas I was still too sore and traumatised to think about sex for several days. I did take pity on him during our fourth night together. "Sit on the side of the bed," I ordered when we had undressed. He tried to hide his erection but I pushed his knees apart and knelt between them. Despite his protests that I didn't have to do it, I rubbed his prick and then sucked it in my mouth and gave him a proper blowjob. By then I could bear gentle touches to my tits so we cuddled and kissed in bed for a while.

I went into work a week later but could only do light work. The lads ribbed me unmercifully but behind it all, I knew they were deeply concerned. For instance, Inks asked with that big smile of his, "Your tits still the same colour as mine?"

"No," I replied, "I'm more chinky looking now."

Pete had gently fucked me the previous night. It was his first time and although I was a little tender and he was inexperienced, I quite enjoyed it. I still couldn't wear a bra comfortably and my thermal vest chafed but I tried to put up with it just to be in their company again. Pete told me that during my absence, they kept questioning him as to my well-being and made sure he was looking after me. On my second day back, I asked Benny to let me try and climb the tower crane. They'd brought in a relief operator but he wasn't doing too well and was causing the ground crew extra work. I got halfway up before the soreness between my legs became too bad and I had to return and visit the Portatoilet to put some more cream on. Two days later I was back in my cab and, a little unsteadily at first, began to operate the controls. By midday, I was back into the banter with the lads on the ground and when I finished for the day, they all congratulated me.

When we were gathered in the canteen for lunch on the following Tuesday I stood and rattled my mug with a spoon. I again thanked them for what they did and then went on, "I hope you lot aren't planning on doing anything, Saturday evening because I have booked a room at The Bell and I'm taking you all for a meal. Bring your girlfriends, or boyfriends." I knew that last remark would get a few comments. They wanted to all chip-in to pay for it but I was adamant that it was my treat for the help they'd given me and they seemed to appreciate it. We had a very nice, if rather boisterous evening.

We'd heard rumours about Roderick and his friends but nothing concrete until I met Ellen in a supermarket on one of my day's off. I invited her for coffee in the café and wormed the story from her.

"By the time I'd loaded the dishwasher and done a few other chores, they'd used up the turps and were trying to wash off the remainder of the tar with water but of course that had no effect. In some ways I felt sorry for them because they were in such pain and I could see the really awful bruises on their bums and their pricks looked so swollen but were not erect." She giggled. "I remembered what they'd done to you and they'd never been very pleasant with me either because I wouldn't bed them so I thought, sod them. However did you get those things up their bottoms Debbie? I wouldn't have wanted one of them in the proper place. They tried to order me to get some more turps but I told them I would bring some when I came in the next morning. That didn't please them either. As I left, I told them to make sure they wore pyjamas to bed that night, as we didn't want the sheets ruined. Rod swore and cursed me for being an unfeeling bitch. I left them to it. I did buy another five litres of turps from B&Q on the way in but this time they used it in the bathroom so I didn't see the state they were in but I had to clean the mess up afterwards. Three days later I caught Rod and Ralph naked in his room. They were rubbing cream on but their arses were a vivid colour and although Rod was hard, it seemed a painful purple hardness. When I saw what they were doing I left quickly. Last week his lordship arranged for all four to attend a sanatorium to get over their drug habit and he says that afterwards he's going to send them to relatives in Australia to see if they can start a new life over there. Violet told me the relative would make them work on the ranch which might do them some good." I agreed and we parted.

Pete and I have now lived together for six months and our love seems to grow stronger. We fully enjoy each other's body and gradually he is overcoming his shyness. Both of us are learning to cook; something neither of us did prior to our living here. Laura pops in a couple of times a week. She's thinking of retiring and is looking for a place to live. Having 'lived-in' at home since before Cecilia was born that will be a big change for her. Mummy and daddy won't be pleased when she tells them. Daddy hasn't spoken to me since I left but I've exchanged a few pleasantries with mummy. Lady Brackenbury phoned one afternoon and asked if I would do a talk to her woman's guild group on how I became a woman crane driver. The talk was to be that very evening as the speaker they'd arranged had fallen and was in hospital. I laughed and said, "I can't tell you how I became a woman but I can tell you how I became a crane operator." She reiterated the remark when she introduced me to the group. Mummy was in the audience but I didn't let that deter me. At tea break she spoke briefly with me and then came over one evening to meet Peter but daddy wouldn't come with her but she did say that he was less antagonistic to me now. Probably because he knows that Lady Brackenbury and I are on good terms although I doubt if I will ever be invited to another ball.

Well that's about as far as I can go for now. What the future holds is anyone's guess. At the moment my main ambition is to win a medal with my Congreve clock at next year's Model Engineering exhibition. Again, that's probably an unusual ambition for a relatively wealthy woman.

Deborah