'Oi!' shouted a figure, picking his way over the rubble in the street and silhouetted by a red light from the blaze behind him. 'What d'ya think your doing out here?'

The two men turned and regarded the man in a steel helmet, hurrying as best he could towards them. Some way behind him, a fire crew was trying to stem a blaze in a shell of a building seemingly beyond saving. But the roaring flames lighting up the night and the damaged street was just one of a hundred others all over London.

Somewhere close an ambulance bell was clanging, a roll of thunder from a battery of heavy anti-aircraft guns and, further away, the dull thump of a bomb followed swiftly by two more. Searchlights, probing into the dark, swung back and forth trying to locate an aircraft.

'You can't come round 'ere,' gasped the man as he came up close, his lined face covered with brick dust. The two men could now see his white armband with the word "Warden" in black letters. At least he wasn't a policeman.

'Looking for my daughter,' said the older of the two men, calmly. A silver-gray haired man with a bowler hat, his white mustache luxurious and clearly well cared for. He stroked it as he added: 'She's a nurse.'

'Looking?' the uniformed man shook his head at this craziness. 'There's a blinking war going on! The all-clear hasn't sounded.' There was drone of a plane low overhead and the helmeted man looked up anxiously. 'Won't sound for a good while yet. You should be in a shelter, not out here with the bloody bombs falling!'

'My daughter isn't in a shelter, she's a nurse,' repeated the gray haired man. He had a silver-topped walking cane and was leaning on it as if this was some casual stroll, not a walk in the middle of an air raid.

'No nurses round here - hospital was bombed Monday night,' the warden looked at the older man as if concerned for his mental health. If his daughter was a nurse at the hospital, surely the man would have heard by now? 'You ain't from round 'ere are you?'

The man in the bowler shook his head and even smiled. His middle-class accent made it very obvious he wasn't from this part of London, contrasting with the air raid warden's cockney chime. 'No. I live in the country. We both do.' He indicated the younger man standing next to him, a man without a hat.

'Better get back there then both of you while you can, before you get yerselves killed.' As if to demonstrate the point, a loud explosion boomed from a few streets away, the crash of masonry suggesting a direct hit. 'Bleedin' hell!' exclaimed the cockney. 'That was Liverpool Street way. I'd better get over there. And you and your friend had better be off - there's a shelter in Worthington Lane, at the end of the road and you'd bet-' The man stopped as noticed something on the man without a hat. It was a white band at his neck.

'We trust in the good Lord,' said the man, who indicated his clerical collar. 'After all, if Mr Churchill can come out in the air raids, we think we will be safe enough.'

'A bloomin' vicar!' The warden snorted with another shake of his head. 'You might be a man of the cloth but it ain't any better at stopping shrapnel. Or a bullet.' He snorted again. 'If the army thinks you're looters, they'll open up on you, priest or rich man or not. All look the same in the dark to 'em. It ain't just the bombs or the fallin' buildings wot does you in round 'ere.'

Without another word the man hurried off, muttering to himself about crazy rich people and stupid churchfolk. Praying was all well and good but they should be down the nearest underground station, with the rest of the population.

The man in the bowler watched the warden disappear towards where the loud blast had come from. 'Seems a decent chap,' he said and then grinned slyly at the vicar. 'But perhaps we should go and look closer at the underground station.'

'You're right, Major Buckham,' said the priest, casting a last look at the shattered buildings. 'There's nothing for us here.'

---

April Harrison eased herself into the bed next to the young woman. The naked woman already lying between the sheets was drowsy after several hours of passionate love-making. Lips and tongues, hands and fingers, tits and cunts. Even their tight, sweet back holes. What hadn't they done to each other?

'Mmmth,' sighed the woman on the verge of sleep, not opening her eyes. 'Where have you been? Thought I was going to have to play with myself if you weren't back soon.'

'Just looking out of the window,' smiled April, stroking the woman's shock of red hair where it fell over the rumpled pillow. 'I heard a plane go over.'

'One of ours,' said the slowly stirring female enjoying the attention and the promise of more sex. 'Probably.'

'Sounded like one of theirs,' sighed April. 'Probably lost. Don't know why the damn pilot's can't find his way - the sky's all lit up. Big raid on London I expect,' whispered the woman as she worked her way down next to the red-head, her hand already snaking under the covers to the woman's ginger colored pubic hair. 'Anyway, we're safe out here and I'm back to play with you,' snickered the woman as her long fingers found the drowsy female's cunt.

'Always raids on London. Damned war,' grunted the redhead, slowly opening her eyes and smiling up at her lover - just before she gasped as her lover's fingers slid into her wet, hot depths.

'Forget the war. Just relax,' laughed April, tossing her straw blonde hair back from her own face as she leaned down to kiss Josie's full lips.

---

The underground station was lit up by a fire from across the street, a blaze that no one had reported or thought necessary to deal with. But then, it was just another blaze in another night of bombing.

The fourth night in a row, so chances were there would be few firefighters to deal with it.

The two men hurried towards the station entrance, not for shelter but towards a bewildered looking trio of kids. Two boys - probably no more than eight or nine and what looked like a sister, probably a couple of years older - cowering in a doorway, as if scared to make the last dash to the safety of the station and the bowels of the earth.

'Hello, you lot,' said the vicar with a reassuring smile, holding his hand out. 'Come with us, we can get you to safety.'

'We want our mum,' said the girl, who didn't move. She was pale faced, scared and no older than ten or eleven. 'I don't know where me mum's gone. The bombs fell on the school. We was in the shelter.'

'It's dangerous out here,' said the vicar, letting them see his white collar. His dog collar as everyone in London's East End would call it.

'Warden said we had to go,' said the girl, still not moving though she had seen his collar.

'School got on fire,' added one of the boys, peering from behind his sister.

'You'll be safe with us,' said the bowler-hatted man kindly. 'We can take you to where you won't be hurt.' He looked up and frowned. 'You know, children, you can't stay here. I'm afraid this building's on fire too.'

'We going down the tube station?' asked the girl with a little fear in her voice. But she had taken a step forward.

'Better than that,' said the vicar. The girl had reluctantly taken his offered hand.

'What about mum?' asked the boy who'd spoken earlier. The other one just sniffed a little, either from habit or holding back tears. The boy continued: 'She said if we got split up she'd meet us in the shelters by the Red Lion.'

'Sadly, the Red Lion isn't there,' said the Major. 'People got out okay but it's better if you come with us. We know how to find your mother.'

'And aunt Elsie,' said the sniffing boy.

'And Aunt Elsie,' soothed the vicar.

The Major nodded to the vicar and the group - two adults and three children - stepped out into the road and hurried past the tube station entrance, into the relative dark beyond. Towards where they'd left their car.

---

'Can't say I like air raids,' said the vicar from the front seat of the Major's car. 'Not used to all that banging. Makes me jumpy.'

'Best cover, bombardment,' said the Major as he steered the car on to a side road, 'even if it is dangerous. It was like that on the Somme in the Great War - always best time to advance when you're under fire. Providing it's dark of course.' The man laughed grimly. 'You'll get used it George,' he said to the vicar.

'It's the third time we've been out in an air raid. Can't say I'm used to it yet.'

'But think of what we've got,' nodded Major Buckham, as the car pulled clear of the immediate danger zone, out on the unlit road towards their part of the home counties. The part that rarely saw enemy aircraft. Behind them, the fires in London were casting an angry red glow on the clouds. A wail of a siren in the distance told them the all-clear had sounded.

Up ahead a shadowy figure was waving a flashlight, a little light escaping from the small slit on the lens. The Major slowed, recognizing the shape of a policeman. 'Anything wrong, officer?' the man asked, winding the window down as he drew the car to a halt.

'Unexploded bomb up ahead,' said the police officer, peering at the two men. 'You'll have to go back and round by Hiviton, if you're looking to get to Wells End tonight.'

'Not Wells End,' said the Major. 'Burkeham's where we're headed.'

'Even so,' said the copper, turning his light into first the face of the vicar and then into the back of the car, at the three figures under the blanket. Three children, all asleep. 'Where you taking them kids?' asked the policeman.

'Hush, don't wake them officer,' said the Major. 'We're taking them back to the orphanage.'

'Orphans?' The policeman was curious. 'You got an orphanage?'

'Strictly speaking they're the ward of my church,' said George, leaning forward to address the man better. 'They lost their parents in an air-raid. The village helps my church look after a few lost little souls.' The younger man turned and glanced in the back at the two boys and one girl. 'We do what we can to help - at least they're fairly safe from the blitz, out in the country.'

'Umm,' grunted the policeman, not sure why they were out so late. But his job was to warn of the 100 pound bomb half-buried in the road ahead, not worry about kids out late. 'Anyways,' he said, 'you'll have to turn round.'

'Hope I've got enough juice in this thing,' sighed the Major. 'All this blasted rationing.'

'There's a war on,' said the copper, stepping back from the car and waving it forward.

---

April laughed as she ran her fingertips round Josie's small but shapely breasts. 'You know, darling, you really have got a delightful pair of titties. I could suck them all night.'

Her red-haired lover, wide awake now after another bout of intense love-making, laughed too. 'I might let you. But then I could suck yours too... If you were tied up.'

'Oh you and that tying up thing of yours! Don't you ever get tired of wanting to truss me up?'

'No,' grinned Josie. 'Unless, of course you could find me a woman with really big tits. Then I could tie them up and bite them.'

'But you'd manage with me in the meanwhile?'

'Of course I would, especially as yours are bigger than mine. Now, pass me the rope by your side of the bed and let me tie your hands to the bed-head, April dearest. Then I can get to work on your lovely tits.'

'If you must.' April gave a mock sigh as she picked up the length of rope. 'I'll just have to lie back and think of England while you do your evil thing.'

'Exactly,' chuckled her lover. 'Oh, and pass me the gag too. I don't want you begging for mercy when I bite your nipples.'

---

'Close call,' said George as the Major found the road to Hiviton - not easy in the dark when the signposts had been taken down for fear of an invasion.

'Not really. The policeman was easily persuaded.' The Major gave a snort. 'And he didn't want any more to do than stand in the road waving cars down. That's why it'll be a miracle if we win this war: too many small-minded men in uniform.' The man was bristling a little, on his hobby horse. 'No leadership, no initiative. Just doing what they're told.'

'Well, maybe. It's a good job the kids didn't wake up in the back.' George looked over his shoulder at the three small figures, all still asleep.

'If you gave them right dose in their drinks they'll sleep until tomorrow. The doctor knows his stuff. But don't worry, what would they have said if they'd been awake?'

The vicar pursed his lips. 'That they aren't orphans? That we took them from the street against their will?'

'Not against their will,' grunted the Major. 'We said we'd take them to a safer place. Where they're going, it is.' He laughed at the last part.

The vicar laughed too. 'Quite a collection we've got now. Pity about the girl, but...'

'You're right,' acknowledged the Major. 'But we couldn't leave her and take the boys. Not when they're so young.'

George nodded. 'That's five boys now. Almost one each.'

'Now, now, George. We said it would be share and share alike. Even if we had more, we'd still want a few spares, as it were.'

'But the girl,' said the vicar, shaking his head as he regarded the female of the trio in the middle of the back seat. 'I don't think any of us quite know what to do with her.'

'She has a mouth and a bumhole,' said the Major, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. 'Just like a boy.'

'But unlike a boy, she isn't what we want. We went out to collect boys for our special school.'

'What do you want to do? Push her out in a field?'

'No,' said the vicar. 'She could go to the police. Even that dolt of a young copper back there would soon cotton on.'

'So we keep her in a cellar.'

The vicar smiled slowly. 'No, we don't keep her at all. But my sister will have her.'

'Your sister Josephine?' the Major crackled a laugh. 'You sure?'

'Not entirely, but I think I can persuade her to help me out.'

---

'So that's it, Josie dearest,' sighed George as he put down his cup of tea. 'That's what we do, the Major and the doctor and me and the others. We take small boys from the streets of London for their protection and education.'

Josephine Edwards sat, hands folded in her lap, listening to her brother. 'Education? That's an interesting word,' she said after a few moment's silence, broken only by the old grandfather clock chiming the hour in the hallway.

'We wouldn't harm them. We don't bel-' began the man.

'You kidnap them, George.' interrupted the woman, 'You and the others. The Major and Doctor Holt and old Simpkins from the corner store. I suspect that you keep these children for some ritual pleasures. Sodomy, I would imagine.'

'Josie! That's a terrible thing to say!'

'Terrible, but true. You educate them to like what you do to them. And protection? You have them no doubt locked up.' The woman with the straw-blonde hair stared at her brother. 'That's why Harrison, the Locksmith, goes up to the Manor house so much.'

'How did you know about him?'

'I am a friend of his daughter, April. She told me quite a lot from what he's said. Or let slip.'

'Ah,' a light suddenly dawned in the vicar's eyes. 'April Harrison... of course!'

'Meaning?'

'Miss Harrison has a reputation for liking female company. Preferring it, I understand' George couldn't help grinning. 'And may I say you've never been that keen on men, have you? I recall a girl called Clarice, summer of '33 if I'm not mistaken.'

'You are mistaken. It was 1932.' Josie was unable to stop herself smiling.

George gave a laugh. 'My, we seem to share a common preference for our own sort. Our family would be so disappointed if they knew.'

Josie nodded. 'Every family has to have its secrets. At least we know about each other. So why then, apart from revealing we desire and have distinct preferences for our own sex, have you come to tell me all this?'

The man fell serious. 'We, those who go to the Manor to oversee the, ah, education, need your help. We were obliged to take a girl, sister to two boys. We don't know what to do with her.'

'I can imagine.'

The vicar sighed as he sipped his tea. 'Problem is, dear sister, we cannot turn her loose and can't keep her at the house.'

'I would have thought the Major had enough room there.'

'Several. But we cannot keep her confined anywhere but the cellar.'

'Where the boys are kept,' said the woman, sipping her own tea. 'So may I presume you want me to keep her?'

The vicar nodded.

'But,' continued the woman, 'how should I keep her? I can hardly take her as a maid given her age. I presume she knows too much about what you do, too.'

A pained look crossed the man's face. 'I'm afraid so. The Major said he would keep her away from the boys when she woke from her drugged sleep, but she woke early. She saw a great deal more than we would have wanted.' The man shook his head. 'The Major took it into his own hands to bind her. She's with the boys, in the cellar.'

'Still secured I take it.'

'Indeed. She is chained and gagged among the boys. That's why you can help, sister dear. You can take her from us, keep her here.'

'Chained and gagged, no doubt. You think I am going to do that too?'

George looked troubled. 'You may persuade her to, shall we say, see sense over time. Forget about her brothers.'

Josie took a sip of her tea as she thought. 'The plan is unlikely to succeed if it depends on her memory loss. But let me tell you what we will do.'

'We?' The man looked startled. 'I was hoping you would -'

'No, George. This plan requires all of us. Me, you and April.'

'April? But she's like you. A... lesbian!'

'Indeed, as we all now know. But she will be very useful. Let me explain.'

The vicar looked doubtful but sat forward, listening.

'George, I always knew you were strange when you turned down that nice Anne when she was so interested in you. Could have acquired a lovely, docile wife there.'

'Anne was - is - a girl,' said George, wrinkling his nose slightly. 'No offense to present company but you know I prefer men.'

'No, I strongly suspected you did then,' said the woman. 'But now I know. However, this is about a bigger picture.'

'Go on.'

'The church likes married vicars. Unmarried female churchgoers like unmarried vicars. You are going to get a lot of obvious interest and subtle proposals. There will be a small war between some female parishioners. Casualties of conflict with hurt pride and damaged egos. Males obliged to take sides. Very unsettling.' A pause. 'Has been known to scatter congregations in less developed parts of the country.'

'And?'

Josie poured more tea for herself and her brother. 'You don't want to stay a vicar in a small parish all your life, do you?

'Of course not.'

'Therefore if you want to rise in the church you know that an unhappy, divided congregation will sour your promotion appeal to the bishop.'

'At the risk of repeating myself: And?'

'Think, brother darling. You need to marry, but wisely. From outside the congregation. It stops the local bickering and secures both your future as well as stopping unhealthy female interest in you - women who may ask a question too many.'

The man nodded but looked confused. 'Indeed I do already have some women who try to win my attention, but marriage? I think not - and you're hardly in a position to lecture me. You're not married yourself, Josie.'

Josie smiled. 'Therein lies a problem for you. Men keeping small boys for pleasure suggests suggests women-haters. So I thought it would be obvious, brother dear. You take a wife and there can be no suspicion of you, could there?'

'Given the sermons I lambast them with each Sunday, I don't think the people of the village regard me as anything but a good vicar.'

The woman smiled again. 'Good undoubtedly but a vicar in the Anglican church who doesn't marry invites an unnatural suspicion. You certainly can't afford that, can you?'

George chuckled and put down his tea cup. 'I may not like women but I do admire their ability to see potential problems. You are, Josie, very perceptive. But who do you think I should take as a bride, bearing in mind I would not be the ideal marital partner.'

'Allow me to find you a suitable wife. A woman of distinct, but not overt, lesbian tendencies who would be happy to play out a pretend marriage. Of course, she would sleep separate to you but that would not arouse suspicion. No children, but then not every couple is fertile. You can always preach that life has its stones and barriers but we soldier on. It will add to your bishop appeal as well as keeping the parishioners happy - after the initial disappointment of seeing you spoken for.'

'And this woman - I assume you have one in mind already - would be discrete? I mean, it would never do for her to try her sapphic charms on the church ladies.'

Josie laughed. 'I have the perfect young woman. Not too attractive, though she is to me and my friends who like women close to ourselves, and very reliable. A shade older than you, which would be beneficial. She lives in Oxford but thinks she should retire to the country soon. I know she would love it hereabouts.'

Both the brother and sister laughed at Josie's joke.

'And so you would take the girl off my hands to do with as you please?' George leant forward. 'But you have another price, I fancy.'

'Of course, but how perceptive of you, George.' Josie leaned forward like her brother. 'I will keep this child here for my pleasures but I need another one. I have certain preferences and a second child - perhaps a mere eight or nine - would help. Slim tongues, you know.' She winked and the vicar laughed.

'Very well then, agreed,' said George. 'Another trip to London in the next bombing and we'll find you a young girl. I'll deliver the one we have already - Daisy's her name and quite bright really - and find you a younger one.' He paused. 'One word of caution though. She knows too much and though you live here in Wells End word of her captivity could soon get to Burkeham. She mustn't escape.'

'Clarice didn't,' smirked Josie, 'once I got her in the barn at Uncle's. Three days tied up and no complaints. I will do the same for this Daisy. And the other one.'

'Good.' George clapped his hands. 'So when do I meet my future wife?'

'April will be here next week. A small tea party should iron out the details of who has which bedroom, though you will have to play at courting. Pretending to like her.'

'I think I can manage to play the game,' said the man. 'For the good of peace in the village, promotion and risk-free buggering!'

---

Mary was eight and she was a handful. The Major wasn't happy having to bind the child as she spat out the drugged drink and could only relax when he got the gag in the small girl's mouth.

'Damned minx bit me hand,' he grumbled when he had the trussed and silenced girl covered up with the blanket. He climbed behind the steering wheel. 'This had better be worth it, George,' he snorted, examining the teeth marks and trickle of blood on his left hand.

'It will be, Major. I know we made three trips this week and haven't found anyone until tonight, but this one is fine.'

'Thing is, vicar,' said the silver-gray haired man in the bowler hat. 'Three visits in bombing raids for a mere girl. No boys at all!' He began driving past a burned out shell of a building, keeping one eye on a wall that looked about to fall. 'Our little club may not be too happy, thinking we are here just looking for boys and not finding any. They'll think us damned incompetent suddenly.' A deep snort. 'Hmmph, or worse. Keeping the blighters for ourselves.'

'That's why I'm here,' chuckled the vicar. 'Everyone trusts me.'

The Major raised an eyebrow.

'But we have the problem solved now,' said George, ignoring the look. 'It's better however that we don't tell anyone else in our club what we've been doing exactly. We have to let them think we are thinking of boys only. When we come back next time it will be for boys.'

'But not to this part of town for a while,' sighed the Major, peering ahead into the fire-lit night. 'Think I saw that nosy warden again tonight. He'll be suspicious. Can't afford that, what?'

'No Major. Not at all.'

'When we get back padre I'll get the blacksmith to put her into a wooden box. I don't want this one biting me again,' the Major grumbled.

'A final wooden box?'

'No,' the old man snorted. 'Just to keep her quiet until we get her over to you sister's place.'

'Packaged deliver,' mused the vicar. 'She will be impressed.'

---

'I can't believe you're trying to marry me off, Josie Edwards!' April sat up in bed and regarded her friend, lying next to her.

'Think, April. Think.' Josie sat up too and flicked curls of red-hair from her face. 'You will be living close by, no one will suspect that you and I are lovers.'

The blonde shook her head. 'But your brother is a man!'

'Of course he is. Brothers are! But he's personable and charming with it, too. Handsome - or so the villagers say - and quite a catch. That's why no one will think about you and me. We can meet and play whenever we want. I'll be your sister-in-law, remember?'

April couldn't help grinning. 'That's almost perverted.'

Josie grinned back. 'George is homosexual. You and he will have separate bedrooms - and as he knows I prefer women and you in particular - he won't care that we spend time in your room. In fact, I could sell this place and move in with you. No one will know but us.'

'But you said George has this thing with this Major Buckley -'

'Buckham,' corrected Josie. 'He's got a large house, an old manorial place. That's where he keeps these boys he and George and the others use for their games. They call it a school but the only thing those boys get taught is how to be bummed.'

'Huh, men,' April snorted. 'But what if one of those men says something, let it slip to those who might not agree with it all?'

'Then we leave here. Go somewhere else. What happens to them isn't our business.' Josie paused and reached out for her lover's breasts. 'You and me and these gorgeous titties.'

'But your brother. Would you desert him?'

'I don't owe him anything. He can do what he wants. Of course, I would prefer him to rise in the church. That's why marrying you would be so good for his prospects. And ours.'

April narrowed her eyes at the red-haired woman fondling her chest. 'You aren't telling me everything, are you?'

Josie feigned shock. 'April, how can you say such a thing?'

'Hmmm, I wonder... I think there's something else in all this. Something, my sweet Josephine, that you aren't revealing to me.' The older woman pursed her lips. 'You don't do anything without gain.'

'You worry too much! I get you with me all the time. You get a good house, a safe marriage, and no need to do one of those dreadful jobs so many women have to put up with these days. Plus, no children. George wouldn't know how to begin with a woman.'

'Uh, well, maybe -' began April.

'Oh and I get to play with these.' Josie stopped her lover talking as she redoubled her stroking and teasing, making the woman gasp at the intensity of feelings it generated in her. 'I get to fondle you all the time. I might, if it all goes well, even let you off being bound and gagged.'

'Now that I would really like to see,' sighed April, spreading her legs as she lay back.

---

Josie secured the naked girl's hands to the ring in the wall above the child's head and tested the knots. 'Special day, today, Daisy,' the woman said, satisfied with how she had tied her slave. 'Your new sister is joining us. Well, not your sister entirely but a girl from the same part of London as you. As far as I'm concerned all you little tarts are the same. Probably had the same dad, if your mother was a whore.'

'Miss, she wasn't! Se wa-' The slap rang round the cosy living room, the large red mark from Josie's hand spreading on the girl's cheek. Daisy bit her lip, trying not to cry at the sudden pain. But she was quiet.

'Don't answer me like that, Daisy. You know how it bothers me,' said Josie. Then tenderly, the woman said: 'I really don't want to hurt you, sweetness. But if I think your mother was a common prostitute then that's what you accept, understood?'

'Yes M-miss.' The girl sniffed back a few tears. 'S-sorry Miss.'

'So tell me, was your mother a whore, Daisy?' the woman was stroking the child's sore face, both soothing her and as a threat of issuing another sharp slap.

'Uh.. yes Miss. My mother... um...'

'Say it after me: She fucked men for a few pennies.'

'She...um...er... fucked men for a few pennies.'

'And I am a whore's cunt-spawn. Say it!'

'Oh!' the girl hesitated but Josie's hand lifted away, the flat of her hand ready to deliver another blow. 'Um, I am a whore's cunt-spawn,' the girl whispered, tears of humiliation in her eyes again.

'Good,' smiled Josie, resuming stroking the girl's soft but sore cheek. 'See how things are better when you accept what I tell you?'

'Yes Miss. Thankyou Miss.'

'Try to curtsy please when you thank me, as I trained you.'

The eleven year old girl bobbed her knee as best she could, her movement restricted by the way her hands were tied above her head.

'Hmmm, not bad,' sighed the woman. 'We'll have to see if our new acquisition can do better.'

'This girl... um, is she going to replace me, Miss?' asked the child nervously.

'Oh dear sweet Daisy, how could anyone replace you?' The child flinched as the woman's hand came up again, not to slap but to stroke. 'Don't look so anxious. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not much.'

The look of relief on the child's face was all too brief. 'Hurt me? Why, Miss? Wot 'ave I gone and done wrong?'

'Nothing,' smiled the woman. 'You've been a very good slave Daisy but even good slaves have to be punished. No, it's because we are getting a new slave. My supplier tells me she's a pretty little thing. Only eight. I understand she's called Mary.'

Daisy looked far from happy but tried to be brave. 'Please Miss, where is she?'

'You recall, no doubt, that you spent a few days in that special dungeon, next to all those boys?'

Daisy remembered. She remembered the screams and cries from the boys - even saw a couple paraded past her cell naked, their hands bound behind them and a man pushing them forward. She remembered seeing the man was naked too with his thingie stuck out hard. Just like a poker.

That's what she'd had to call it when her uncle Martin wanted Daisy to suck it. Suck my poker clean, he'd laugh, making the girl bend her head to it. But only when there was no-one else around.

Daisy had hated sucking that poker - especially the white stuff that came out, his love cream he called it - and in the dungeon she thought that was what the men would want her to do. But she thought the boys would have to do that. She had thought too, locked and chained up in her cell, that her brothers Paul and Keith would have to do some sucking and licking if these men were like uncle Martin.

They spoke all posh, but even Daisy knew men were men whatever their class and they all had stiff pokers and love cream.

She thought her brothers would hate eating love-cream because they were so young and innocent. No one had told him about men and baby-making, she told herself.

'Mary is staying in the same cell as you were. Apparently one of the men who got her from London didn't like the way she bit him. Minx, he called her, and minxes have to be punished.' The woman paused. 'I was rather hoping to give her the first punishment, but...' she shrugged. 'There will be other opportunities.'

Daisy watched, wide eyed as the woman picked up the leather belt she kept. She snapped it noisily.

'This is for you,' explained Josie, though the tied girl expected that. Feared it as she hated being caned or whipped, just for Josie's pleasure. 'I want to mark you when Mary arrives, just to show our new slave what can happen for no reason.'

The girl gulped. 'Will you gag me, Miss?'

'Oh no, dearest Daisy, not this time. I want Mary to hear you scream and - as a special treat - you may beg for mercy.' The woman stopped flexing her arm and brought her hand up to the eleven year old's front, running her hands over the girls' clearly exposed ribs and the small twin mounds that would hopefully one day be sizable breasts. Of course, had the child stayed in London among all that poverty she would have been under-nourished, probably developing scrawny tits like so many commoners.

But since she'd been in the country for two weeks the girl had been fed better, thanks to the farm-supplemented foodstuffs that eased the strict rationing. Daisy was already looking healthier. Of course, more fat on the slave was better for whipping and Josie was looking forward to that.

The woman gave a sigh as she recalled Clarice in '32, tied to the post in the barn and the 14 year-old's plump flesh quivering under the knotted rope Josie used to whip the child. Especially the youngster's delightfully chubby little tits. They quivered and shook, Josie remembered, as she beat the sobbing child's chest with the rope.

It would be nice to do the same to Daisy one day. And then repeat it often.

But Clarice didn't have a little vagina as sweet as Daisy did. The child here had a lovely labia and perfectly shaped vagina - Josie enjoyed nothing more than fingering it. She resolved to do so now, if only to give her slave a feeling of pleasure before the intense pain she would feel soon enough.

Daisy, as previously instructed and needing no reminder now, opened her legs as wide as she could as Miss placed her hand between her legs. 'Ooooh, Miss,' gasped the child as the woman slid her middle finger straight into the small, tight cunt.

Josie pushed her finger hard up into the girl, making the child strain up on her tip toes and give a little cry. Whether it was pain or pleasure hardly mattered to the woman. Daisy would tell her if asked, but Josie wouldn't ask.

The woman brought the belt up and pressed it to the girl's lips, inviting her to open her mouth and take the strap between her teeth and keep it there. Not a gag, of course, but a good reminder for the little tart to stay quiet while she was fingered hard.

'Mmnnth!' gasped the girl through clenched teeth as Josie worked her fingers - and second and third finger - deep into the child.

'You were very sweet in bed last night,' laughed the woman as she made the child teeter on her toes. 'Tonight, after I have finished showing little Mary the ropes, you can pleasure me with your tongue again. Both holes, just like last night.'

'Ytthh Mttthhh,' grunted the girl, biting hard on the leather between her teeth, tears squeezing out from her screwed up eyes.

A knock at the door stopped Josie "pleasuring" her slave and she withdrew her hand reluctantly. 'Visitors, I believe,' she smirked. 'And if it is my supplier with Mary we'll soon have you hurting, dearest child.' The woman planted a swift kiss on the girl's cheek and headed for the door.

---

Paul saw his brother being pulled over a table and ropes wound round his small, shivering and naked body so his naked little bum was in the air. One of the men, a huge naked man with bulging muscles, was rubbing his thingie, pointing at Keith's innocent face. Just a few inches away. The man with the big muscles was grunting as he jerked his cock more.

Paul tried to shout "No, don't do that to my brother." But he had the rich old man's cock in his mouth, protected wisely by a special ring. A ring gag, they'd called it, so the men could slide their cocks in and out of any boy's mouth. Like this man was doing to Paul now.

The boy could feel it tremble, which was the sign he'd already learned that it was about to spit that white stuff - spunk - into his mouth and we have to swallow. Lamely, he pulled at the ropes keeping his hands behind him and heard the swish of what sounded like a leather belt. He knew that he was about to be beaten, like the older boy fastened facing the wall on the far side of the cellar had been earlier. When all the other boys - all seven of them - had to kneel and watch him being punished for not making one of the men cum quickly enough.

Despite all his revulsion Paul flicked his tongue round the trembling cock head. He was going to be beaten, he knew, but he didn't want to be given extra lashes for not trying. Not sucking properly. He'd seen his sister beaten hard, before they took her away. He wondered sometimes where they'd taken her.

But he had more things to worry about now.

---

Mary Gillings wasn't tall for a eight year old. She looked even smaller the way Daisy was stretched up by the rope keeping her hands above her head. But she had that look of a child who might flesh out nicely one day - given the right nutrition. Now she was in the country rather than the city she might just have a chance with fresh vegetables and some meat.

Josie thought all that when the child was delivered by her brother. She had stood in the hallway of her small house and watched George ease open the rough wooden box and extract the small, well bound ball that was a naked girl. She watched him untie the child so she could straighten but not move her arms, the hood still on her.

'All yours, sister dear,' the man had said and left.

The child was delivered naked and well tied. Not as well bound as Josie preferred so she took a good fifteen minutes, after George had departed, tying the child to her satisfaction. It meant Daisy had to wait for her punishment, holding the belt between her teeth.

But it had been heavenly, removing that hood for the first time and seeing the small girl's pixie face, seeing her tears and the large gag filling her little mouth. Seeing the shocked look in her large, tear-filled eyes as she looked round and saw what lay ahead for her.

Daisy stood, hands stretched above her head, staring at the new girl - who of course stared back once the hood came off. Mary was pretty enough though maybe more because of a hint of foreign blood in her. Big, dark eyes too. Perhaps the result of an Italian or Spanish sailor - before the war of course - in the docks. That's what Daisy's mother and father would say if they'd seen the child. But it happened, with sailors ashore for a few hours and money to spend on drink and women.

Daisy watched as Mary was tied, legs tight together and hands high behind her back, standing where she could see the older girl clearly.

'Now Mary,' said Josie as she tied off the last rope - a harness round the child's thin bony shoulders and slender neck - 'I want you to meet Daisy. She is my number one slave. She likes being tied up and likes to make me happy. Just as you will.' The woman went to the older girl by the wall and took the belt from the eleven year old's mouth. 'As you can imagine, I want to hurt pretty little girls and so Daisy here will be whipped with this belt.'

Mary's big eyes widened a little more. She was still gagged from when this mysterious supplier had brought her over, nailed into a box and put in a car, from the big, old house where the naked boys were kept. The eight year old wished she wasn't silenced: she wanted to ask what the girl had done wrong, why she was about to be beaten.

But then, Mary's dad had beaten her when he came home drunk so maybe this woman was drunk too, but this woman wasn't drunk like her dad was. She wasn't all falling down and swearing and peeing herself. But she did look determined. Not angry, just determined to inflict pain.

Mary watched as the woman played with what she called Daisy's bumps, and put her hand between the older girl's legs and "made the little tart dance" as this woman said.

It was funny too how the tied girl was sniveling and asking to be punished, please Miss, even though she was afraid. Like it already hurt. But maybe the dancing was hurting - which was odd because when Mary's own bigger sister had done that to Mary herself and she quite liked it.

It had almost made up for the peeing in the mouth and the whippings.

The woman who had been making Daisy dance stopped and then took the leather belt. She snapped it with a deft flick of her wrist. 'I'm going to enjoy doing this,' said the woman even though Daisy was sobbing loudly.

For some reason Mary smiled into her gag. She'd probably enjoy watching this too, if only because if this girl was being punished then she wouldn't be for a while yet.

Jut as Mary smiled to herself whenever she saw her sisters or her brothers beaten by her dad. It was them, not her, getting it - and he never had the strength to do it more than once. Not like cathy Lunn's father, who did it to her often.

But nobody would ever be able to beat Cathy Lunn again. Not since the old shop cellar collapsed on her.

---

'It was my fault,' said Mary, tears glistening in her eyes, her voice breaking with emotion. 'I shouldn't have run away. Not like that. I made it happen. I killed Cathy Lunn!'

Daisy studied the girl's face just a few inches from her own. Given the way they were tied together with arms round each other, lying face to face on the mattress on the floor, she didn't have much choice. 'I don't see how you runnin' away made Cathy go an' die. Honest.'

Mary sniffed noisily. 'It's just that... Cathy said she wanted to pee in me mouth again, but I said I didn't want her to do it again. It makes me sick, drinkin' it. 'S awful.'

Daisy nodded as if she understood. No one had peed in her mouth but the thought of it was enough to make her feel sick. 'But that didn't make the old cellar cave in, did it?'

'But she went there to find me! I said she'd have to find me and make me do it. I ran off an' she came after me.'

'So she saw where you went, right?'

'N-no.' More tears formed and rolled down the younger girl's pretty face. 'I ran to where the old shop was, where the cellar was, but I didn't go down. She didn't see that I'd hopped up on top of the wall nearby. She went an' ran straight down, shouting for me, saying she was gonna get me.' Mary paused and sniffed again. 'See, she ran straight down and I could hear her callin' out. I was on the wall and I tried to get down. But the wall I was on just started to give way. I jumped away but the whole wall fell, right on top of where the cellar door was. It all jus' caved in.' Mary was weeping now. 'I heard it all make this loud crash and then it went quiet. I couldn't hear Cathy no more!'

'But she could've survived. You don't know wot happened... you said you just ran off. If you stayed you might have seen her get out okay. Kids shouldn't play round bomb sites, everyone knows that. But they do. I had a friend, Jill, who was in a building that fell in. She was okay. Well, broken leg. So you don't know.'

'I do,' moaned the girl. 'It was just so quiet. Then I heard people running, coming to see what the noise was. So I ran off.' She sniffed back a tear. 'I hid for a while. Then it got dark. That's when those two men found me. I thought they was the coppers. They said I had to go wif them an' look smart about it.'

'An' one of them had this dog collar on. Priest, right?'

Mary nodded.

Daisy gave the eight year old a brief kiss on her lips, a move which startled Mary. She looked at the older girl, blinking the tears away. 'Why'd you go and do that?'

Daisy blushed a little. 'I don't want you upset. Don't like to see you cry. Um, anyway... It's nice. You're nice.'

'You cry though. When Miss hits you with the belt.'

'Yeah, but that's just what she does.' Daisy shrugged but looked sad.

Mary returned the kiss. A little peck. 'I don't like to see you sad, either.'

Daisy blushed a little more but smiled her thanks. 'I ain't had it bad, like you.'

'She doesn't hit me,' said Mary. 'Well, not much. Not like you. That's worse'n wot she does to me.'

'She ties you up in funny ways for a long time. In the kitchen, when I'm workin' - you know, washin' up and fings - and you are tied up bent over the table... looks funny, seein' your bumhole.' Daisy tried to smile at the girl.

'Feels funny, showin' it to you like that.' Confessed the girl. 'But it's nice knowing you're lookin' at it. That and me cunny.'

Daisy nodded and grinned. She was about to say "I like lookin' at your bum" when Mary suddenly darted her head forward and planted a longer kiss on the older girl's lips.

'Hey,' said Daisy, her turn to be startled as they broke.

'Uh, sorry. Jus' that...' Mary had colored up now.

'Don't feel bad. It was good.'

'I'm not one of them lezzies, like her,' Mary said, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling to indicate the woman who owned them. 'But it's nice kissin'. No one's kissed me before. Not nice, like you do.' She looked deep into the eyes of the girl tied to her. 'Lizzie didn't... I asked her but... she said my mouth was like a sewer, that's why she peed in it.'

'I wouldn't pee in it,' said Daisy. ''S too nice.'

'Then prove it. Kiss me.' Mary puckered her lips towards the older girl.

Daisy needed no second invitation. The two girls kissed again, longer, more eagerly. Their lips parted and their tongues pushed against each other's. They both made little moaning noises as they kissed and tried to squeeze their little naked bodies closer, holding each other in a bizarre bound embrace.

'I wish me hands was free,' said Daisy as the kiss broke. 'Then I could hold you real close.'

'An' touch me. Down there,' sighed Mary. 'I'd like that.'

'Yeah, me too.'

The two girls kissed again, harder, trying to wriggle their bodies closer.

It was later that Mary asked: 'Why'd she leave us, like this, sometimes? I mean, sometimes she wants you in her bed. Or me.'

Daisy nuzzled the younger girl's soft face. 'She got someone visitin'. She says this woman mustn't know about us yet. Coz...' She trailed off, uncertain why they were a secret.

'Coz what?'

'She said to me one day that we wuz to be somefin' like a wedding present.'

'We can't be!' exclaimed Mary. 'How can we be a present?'

'I dunno,' shrugged Daisy. 'I fink she said this woman was going to get married and she'd think it funny if we were tied up in bed, after the church fingy.'

'Service,' ventured the younger girl.

'Yeah, that's it. You and me would be tied up, waitin'.'

Mary shivered. 'It sounds stupid,' she said, but then brightened. 'You fink we'd be tied up so we can kiss?'

'Hope so,' gurgled Daisy as the two naked, tied girls began kissing again.

---

'My guest,' smiled Josie as she fussed round the two girls, bound to the hooks in the wall, 'Had a wonderful time but won't be back for a few days. But when she does...'

Both Mary and Daisy glanced at each other, wondering why the woman who owned them didn't finish her sentence. They would have asked, if they hadn't been gagged.

They might also have asked why they were gagged, but there was never any sense in their tying up. Some days they would be bound down here, kept anonymous, as the Mistress said. They didn't know the word anonymous - sounded like a Nonny Mouse to them - but they knew the woman was having a visitor, so they had to be out of the way.

Bound and gagged and waiting. Sometimes all night, or most of the weekend. Daisy and Mary tied up out of the way, just waiting.

But the Mistress wasn't untying them now. She was tying them tighter, making sure the ropes hadn't slipped. 'I have to go out myself, now,' she explained. 'Have to go and see a man about a dog - or dogs.' She laughed at her joke.

Mary shivered. She hated dogs. The mistress wasn't going to bring them here, was she?

---

The lone German bomber was in trouble. Flames licked from one of the engines and the plane was losing height. Searchlights flickered up, searching for it, trying to give the anti-aircraft guns something to aim at.

The pilot knew it was unlikely the plane could gain height, carrying the weight of bombs it did. Somewhere below there might be a military target - or maybe just something that would help damage the British war effort, even if it only led to more shattered morale. Even that would help pave the way for the invasion that had, they'd been assured, merely been postponed.

It was a pity the man thought that they were not closer to London, but there was no time to waste. He ordered the bombs away and the plane bobbed up as it suddenly came hundreds of kilograms lighter. The tail gunner reported he could see flashes on the ground below. he counted them, as he always did. Seven flashes he said. Not eight as there should have been.

Still streaming flames from its damaged engine, the plane tried to turn back towards the European mainland. A long flight but not impossible if the fire burnt itself out out soon. One engine would get them back at least to the French coast, they all hoped.

The anti-aircraft shell that hit them a minute or so later, tearing into the cockpit, rendered that hope void.

---

When the rescue crew - largely the local village policeman and the makeshift Air Raid Precaution fire-team - arrived at the scene they could see the whole corner of the house had been ripped away by the bomb. The men knew that most of the lone plane's bombs had fallen harmlessly into a patch of woodland and a couple of fields but the last one had fallen - thankfully not exploding - into the house.

They were relieved it wasn't more of a direct hit, that they weren't fighting a fire.

Like a good number of bombs that were dropped in those times, it hadn't exploded. But the sheer weight of it did enough damage - like some huge cannonball. The men stared at the building, seeing how the end wall of Josie's house almost collapsed, how the roof dipped crazily and plaster and broken slates littering what was the bedroom. The double bed hanging over the edge of the broken floor.

Then they set about trying to find the woman who lived there on her own. The vicar's sister.

---

Josie lay in hospital and smiled at her brother George when he arrived. He had flowers for her, which made her grin. It wouldn't mend her broken leg any quicker but it was a cheerful sight.

'Leg okay?' enquired the man, making to sit on the edge of Josie's bed until the duty nurse glared at him.

'Given it was one of the Luftwaffe's finest that hit the bedroom, it's pretty good.' Josie said, easing herself up. 'Should be walking in a couple of months, the doc says.'

'Clean break,' said George, putting the flowers on the small bedside table. 'You were lucky the damn thing was a dud and didn't go off.'

'Lucky,' agreed the woman. She dropped her voice. 'Lucky I didn't have a guest with me in bed.'

George nodded. 'That might have been difficult to explain.'

'But not lucky,' said Josie, pausing while the nurse retrieved the flowers and took them away to find a vase. Once she was out of earshot, the woman resumed. 'I don't suppose there's any sign of those two girls?'

'No, but I totally disagree with your idea of bad luck, sister dear.' The vicar was whispering too. 'You were lucky with that. Two small girls bound in bed with you would have been even more scandalous. Tell me, where were they?'

'In the room below mine. I told you I kept them tied up most nights. I don't always have use for them at night.'

The man nodded. 'I expect the wall being demolished let them get away. Lucky too there weren't any bodies all trussed up for the rescue team to discover.'

Josie nodded, understanding that despite her loss she had been fortunate. She sighed. 'I expect the two bitches will be halfway to London by now.'

'Don't worry. They won't know where they've been kept. Not with all the road direction signs and village names removed in case of invasion. They're probably lost - I doubt they know which way London is in the daylight. All you have to do is sit tight and even if the police ask anything just deny it. I'll back you up - sister of the vicar and all that. Kids from their type of background are known to lie.'

Josie nodded. Then she asked: 'Did you get a message to April for me?'

'Of course. She said she will come over soon. Can't get away just yet, but she's thankful you're not badly hurt.' The man glanced at the pot on his sister's leg. 'I imagine she'll be amused by your near-bondage.'

Josie's brow furrowed but then her look dissolved into a small laugh. 'I guess I am handicapped like this. April will think it funny.'

'She says she will stay for as long as you need her.'

'Good, but where?' asked Josie. 'My house is hardly fit for human occupation.'

'The vicarage, I imagine,' said the man. 'After all, it would mean we might be seen to start a relationship. Of course, she would be seen to be having her own room and Mrs Wilson, my housekeeper, is very trustworthy. She'll tell everyone we are being quite chaste. Which we are, but not for the reasons most people suspect.'

---

Ahead of April there were two girls, muddy and disheveled, crouching by the side of the road. They looked as if they wanted to hitch a ride but they weren't signaling or waving. Just crouching, looking lost.

The woman pulled her car to a halt and opened the passenger door. 'Want a ride?' she asked, noting how filthy the two were, how they were dressed in just their pants and vest. Urchins like you might see in London.

'I'm going to London,' lied the woman. 'I can take you there if you get in.'

The two children exchanged glances and nodded. They climbed in, huddling on the front passenger seat, not saying anything.

'I'm Miss Hopkins,' said the woman, offering another lie. 'You can call me Christine. What're your names?'

The eldest one mumbled: 'I'm called Daisy. This'n's Mary.'

'You two sisters?'

'No,' said Daisy. 'We're jus' um, friends. We got lost.'

'Long way from London,' said April.

'Yeah,' agreed the oldest girl. She had a cut on her forehead, black where the blood had dried. Her hair was matted with what looked like brick dust.

'Looks like you been in a fight,' smiled April.

'Bomb,' said the youngest, the first thing she'd said. As soon as she said it, she shrank back.

'Din't go off,' said the older child. 'Jus' sort of went crash. So we were scared... we went away.' Daisy glanced at the younger girl with what looked like a gesture to say "Hush, don't say about where we were."

'You were in a bombed house?' The woman driving didn't take her eyes off the road as she drove.

'Um, yeah,' said Daisy. 'Jus' staying wif me aunt. In some village.'

'Where was that?'

'Um, dunno. All these places look the same round here.'

'But she's okay? Your aunt?'

The older girl shrugged. 'Dunno. Fink so.'

'I see,' said April. She suppressed a smile as she worked a couple of things out as she drove. Then she said: 'You two hungry?'

'Yeah!' chorused the two children.

'Haven't eaten for a while huh?'

'Found some apples, at a farm,' said the eldest girl, sounding braver. 'Dog chased us off though.'

'I don't like them dogs - or cow fings,' said the youngest, also feeling braver.

'Me too!' April laughed, turning the car at a junction, turning towards the village where she'd stay at the vicarage. 'Anyway, I know just a place where we can stop for something to eat. Soon be there so sit tight!'

'Fanks,' said the eldest girl.

'Oh you don't have to thank me,' smiled April as they sped down the narrow lane between the tall hedges. 'Not yet anyway.'

---

Josie limped into the room, hobbling with her leg in a cast and leaning on a cane. 'My, April, you have been very busy, haven't you? And such a delightful home coming surprise.'

'I thought you'd like them back, and here they are.' April gestured at the two naked girls tied to the hooks in the wall. 'Daisy and Mary. All ready and waiting to greet your return. There's even a whip there, in case you'd rather use that than you're cane.'

'very thoughtful of you, but it's hardly a return,' said Josie as she looked round the room at the vicarage. 'But I should be grateful for all the help and consideration. And yes, I am pleased to get the little shits back after they ran off.' She gave her lover a small kiss, aware that the two gagged children, standing with their hands bound above them, were watching.

'Begging your pardon Miss,' said Mrs Wilson, bustling into the room and interrupting the leisurely kiss between the two women. 'I mean, Misses.' The old plump woman chuckled. 'I think you'll both be wanting a nice cup of tea and then off to bed no doubt. No hurry, Mr Edwards won't be home for a while.' She winked and departed almost as soon as she had arrived.

'Mrs Wilson has been a treasure,' sighed April. 'Since I came here she has made me more than welcome and taken care of these two while I had to go over to Oxford and tidy up my affairs.'

'George told me she seems completely unshaken by him being queer - and us too.' Jose shook her head as she marveled at the tolerance of the old woman. 'Seems he has the perfect housekeeper.'

'We have her husband to thank for the bondage arrangements for these little tarts. Babies, she calls them. He put up the hooks and will do anything else you can think of. Stocks, chains, whipping posts... now he enjoys himself at the Manor with the captive boys he is most willing to help. I think he and Mrs Wilson quite like seeing small girls being tortured. He may like buggering boys but he gets his cock out when he can see me whip our two little ones.'

Josie sighed. 'You know, darling, had I known all this I might not have had to keep the two at my place.'

'But think of the fun you had,' laughed April. 'And to think they were going to be my surprise wedding present! That was truly a lovely thought, darling.' The blonde exchanged a kiss with the red-haired Josie.

'I guess we can enjoy them now,' smiled Josie as they broke the long, wet kiss. 'I noticed they have already been whipped. Specially, for my homecoming?'

'Ye-e-es. But dear Mrs Wilson whips them most days. But I gave them an extra topping up an hour ago, just for you. I thought you might appreciate a few extra red marks over those little bellies and tits.'

The two women looked over at the well-gagged children, standing with hands tied over their heads and their knees and ankles tightly bound. Red stripes crossing their slender, pale bodies. Their copious tears long since dried. But there'd be more soon enough.

'I took the liberty,' continued April, 'of inserting a little something into their cunnies. That's why their legs are tied so well.'

'Something?'

'A little artificial penis in each. Oh, and they have to stand quite still because Mr Wilson kindly put another artificial cock on the wall, sticking up so each can slide up their little bums. They are, indeed, plugged in all three holes.'

The two women laughed and kissed again, only to be interrupted once more by Mrs Wilson carrying two cups of tea.

'I'll put these cups down here where you can get them. Oh yes, you want me to blindfold the babies, so they don't watch you in bed together?'

'The babies as you call them,' smiled Josie, 'are fine watching as they are. We won't mind.'

Mrs Wilson nodded, grinned and backed out, closing the door after her.

'Oh yes, I have my engagement ring now,' said April, showing it to her lover. 'I'll be respectable soon.'

'Congratulations, Mrs future-Reverend-George-Edwards,' laughed Josie. 'But not too respectable I hope.'

'Me neither,' said April putting her hands up and starting to undo Josie's blouse. 'Not when I am sure we could add another hook to the wall and get ourselves a new little addition to join our other two cute prisoners of war.'