One year later...

It was, perhaps, a year later.

“You missed a spot,” said Evelyn, prodding Fiona with the toe of her boot. Forfeit seven hundred and seventy-nine, currently underway, was to serve as a maid in your opponent’s country house for a period of no less than six months. Fiona, currently nude except for a belled collar around her neck and the Chinese character for “****” written in semi-permanent ink on her left cheek (courtesy of forfeit four hundred and forty-five), was scrubbing the floor of Evelyn’s expansive ballroom with a toothbrush. The rest of the maids had been given the day off.

“Sorry, Miss Evelyn,” said Fiona, through gritted teeth. She’d hoped to get used to the humiliation after prolonged exposure, but so far it remained just as insufferable as when it began. Evelyn’s smirks and sneers were still as annoying as ever, and the forfeits hadn’t stopped being fiendishly creative and cruel. She’d had to publish a classified ad in the Times admitting her defeat, throw a masked ball for all of London high society at which she was the nude guest of honour, strip bare and sing music-hall songs for a pub full of Cockneys, and attend her boarding-school reunion with no clothes on and her knickers on her head. “I’ll try to do better.”

“But there’s an enormous puddle over here,” said Evelyn, inverting her cup of hot cocoa. “Fiona, you silly girl, can’t you do anything right? No, no, don’t use the toothbrush. Lick it up.”

“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” said Fiona, and patiently started licking the cocoa off the floor. Evelyn watched her work, smiling. She planted one patent-leather boot in the way of Fiona’s tongue, and watched her pretty blonde ****’s nose wrinkle in distaste as she tried to work her way around it.

“Fiona,” she said. “Did I tell you to stop licking?”

“No, Miss Evelyn.”

The cocoa puddle was forgotten as Fiona started obediently lapping at first Evelyn’s boot, then her stockinged calf, then her thigh. Finally, unable to wait any longer, Evelyn grabbed the blonde by her hair and dragged her into a nearby drawing-room, where there happened to be a comfortable chair. She hoisted up her dress and spread her legs, exposing her dark silky bush and coral-pink pussy lips in the gap of her open-crotched white bloomers. Fiona knelt beneath her, lips pressed together in defiance.

“You know what to do, ****.”

Fiona shook her head. Evelyn grabbed her by the hair and **** her forward.

“You still haven’t finished forfeit six hundred and sixty-nine, you know,” she said, then threw her head back and warbled with delight as Fiona’s **** tongue made contact with her clit. The Reform Club had about five hundred members, all beautiful women, and Fiona was under an obligation of honour to lick each and every one of their pussies. So far she’d done about seventy. Of course, it went without saying that the club’s weekly dinners had become a considerable source of torment and indignity for her. “Ooh, good girl!”