I was in jeans and a sloppy shirt, legs curled up on the long sofa while Hattie poured the whisky and Flick and Lilly consoled me. Why, I hear you ask... was consolation needed? I was scared. No, actually, I was absolutely terrified. “Why can’t I go back to Grimethorpe Rep?” I asked plaintively, referring to one of the worst jobs Flick had ever got me. A draughty rehearsal room which doubled as a scout hut and a theatre that had lost any splendour the Victorians might have given it. Lights that. .Daddy!...Fuck!” I hissed every time he did it. His girthy cock was tearing me apart and his thrusts were quick and rough. His whole body weight kept slamming me forward, sending shockwaves up my back. Eventually I was at the top of the bed, but he pulled me back down by my hips and began thrusting harder. His rigid cock ripped through me, and his big hands had a vice grip on my hips, so this time I couldn’t go anywhere. His thrusts sped up even more, and he started fucking me silly. “Oh. More

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