Chapter 1

Ten years in this bloody business. Ten years of being a good girl, being a bad girl, trudging up and down the runways of the world in search of what? Fame? Fortune? Maybe... Happiness? Love? Not from this job, not particularly. There's plenty of both on offer, but it's mostly fool's gold. Once you've got it, its already gone. Sex, drugs, that's what it comes down to, and I've had my share of all the above, with few regrets.

But now I'm twenty-six, getting into my mature years as a model. And I've found my place, insecure though it is. I model for all the big names. I love runway work most of all, because I'm physically right for it, and I'm a natural exhibitionist. I sometimes enjoy the travelling, sometimes I just endure it. I have my ways of dealing with the inevitable boredom too. I learn languages, and yes, I have sex with either gender, depending on mood and who is around. Also, I save my money like a sensible girl against the day when they decide I'm too old.

Everything was running according to plan, a London fashion week like so many I've known. My first of the day was at the Criterion. Fitting in the morning, show in the afternoon. I arrived for the fitting and Peter, my English agent ( I have agents in all the major fashion cities) called me over. He briefed me as usual, and then...

"Justine, can I ask you a favour?"

"Of course... depends what it is though!"

"One of Sophie's clients is here... it's her very first runway show. Normally Sophie or the girl's mother would look after her, but there's been a fuck-up, and the poor little thing's all lost and alone. I don't suppose you could take her under your wing for today?"

How could I refuse? I've been around so long quite a few of the younger girls call me mum, and come to me for advice. I do what I can. They're not frightened to approach me. I'm not really a supermodel, because my look is too individual. However I work as hard as Tyra, Christy, or any of the other big names, without, thankfully, the pressures of stardom. I tend to put men off a bit. I'm 6' 4" in bare feet, 36a, 24, 36. Willowy, angular, strong, and so flat chested that with my hawkish nose I do look quite androgynous. Yes, I quite often disturb men.

So Peter says:

"There she is by the window. Lucy."

He might have said more. I'll never know because at that second I saw Lucy for the very first time, and she changed my world instantly. I saw an angel, a vision of unspoiled beauty that dazzled me despite a life spent amongst the most beautiful women in the world. Her face was perfect, timeless, ageless, English, pure as Jesus with skin like finest porcelain. Her eyes... oh Lucy's eyes... I could rhapsodise for hours about every part of her. I guessed she was fifteen or sixteen. I felt younger, twelve maybe, a gangling twelve year old with few friends who sees her saviour. I felt too shy to talk.

It's the first and only time I've fallen in love at first sight. I've had sexy fun with many girls over the years... snogged by Christy, fingered by Cindy... but I'm into men more than women. Was. I've never fallen in love with a girl before. Butterflies, clammy hands, pounding heart, stammering, the lot! I hardly dared open my mouth for fear of what would emerge. Peter introduced us and drifted off unaware of the emotional turmoil I was suffering.

Lucy's eyes met mine, and straight away there was this weird, marvellous spark of recognition. I felt an intense warmth. I kissed her on the cheeks, unmade up, so soft. I felt faint and looked at her again. Her pupils were now large, black glistening pools of what could only be desire. I knew they matched mine perfectly. I was aware of nothing but Lucy, as if there was a bubble of intimacy around us.

I was tongue-tied at first. We just stood looking at each other, drinking in the sight of sudden love, of recognition.

"Come on girls, don't just stand around when there's frocks to be fitted!" trilled a madly gay assistant, and we managed to get back to some form of reality. I couldn't keep my eyes off Lucy all morning. Each time she looked straight at me I was nearly sick with excitement. We spent the whole time blushing! At last we had a break for lunch and I knew had to see her alone, somehow, to hear for sure that she felt as I did.

I've been up on the roof of the Criterion a few times at other shows - for a fag or a crafty spliff. Stumbling over my words, I suggested to Lucy that it might be nice to get some air before the afternoon session. Lucy smiled. I swear she knew exactly why we headed up the stairs.

And it was Lucy who, when I closed the fire door so that we were alone, on top of the building, squeezed my hand and parted her lips slightly in invitation for a kiss. It was what she said after that tummy-churning thrill of her mouth on mine had finished, that shocked me to the core of my soul.

"You're mine now aren't you Justine."

Our faces were almost touching. Her gaze was peculiarly intense. My resistance melted in a second.

"You will do anything I want you to, won't you."

It was a command, not a question. An adolescent girl was effortlessly dominating me with such authority I was instantly helpless.

"Yes, anything at all!" I agreed, vehemently.

Her right hand lifted and touched my cheek in a brief caress, branding me painlessly but permanently with her invisible mark.

"In public you may continue to act normally, but when we are together you do exactly as I say. You will serve me in any way I think fit. Is that understood?"

God she was good at this! How did she learn? Who from? It was frightening to feel such power in one so young. I could feel it emanating like radiation from that perfect, innocent girl, that angel.

"Yes Mistress Lucy," I said, knowing telepathically that this was what was expected of me.

"Walk to the parapet... walk like... a tart and lean over the wall with your bum out," she told me.

I swayed outrageously, swinging my hips like a cheap hooker. I heard her walking behind me.

"More... tartier... thrust your hips... good... like a slut." She goaded me, this fifteen year old wunderkind.

I was so aroused I could feel my pussy flowering. I reached the parapet, and leaned over. I was looking straight down at Piccadilly Circus, amazed to see the world still about its business. I felt the back of my dress being lifted and pushed up to my waist. My bum was bare but for the line of my thong. Not for long. I moaned as I felt the scrap of material being peeled from my moist crack.

"Stand perfectly still," said Lucy in a deceptively soft voice.

I felt fingers caressing the globes of my arse, then smacking sharply, enough to sting, but not to mark... I bit my lips and winced. It was exquisite. She seemed to be reading my most secret desires.

Because I'm tall and slim and a bit masculine looking, haughty too, by all accounts, people often assume I'm a butch dyke or dominatrix type. I'm neither, really. Though I may have to revise the dyke judgement since Lucy came into my life. I'm actually pretty submissive, and a bit of a masochist, which has surprised and disappointed some.

Lucy's slim fingers strayed closer and closer to my snatch. I wanted to move, to make her touch me there, but I had my orders. At last her fingertips grazed my labia. I trembled and whimpered, I'd never known such pleasure from so slight a touch. I wanted her very much! She delicately parted the lips and I felt warm summer air on my wetness. Then the fingertips, touching, caressing, finding my plentiful honey and spreading it slowly, unhurriedly. Then she began to enter me. Not with the one slim schoolgirl finger I expected, oh no... She smacked my inner thighs to part them further. I shifted, widening for her. Then she made a cone with all her fingers, and began to twist and screw them with wondrous skill, into my astonished cunt! How did she know I could? Who told her? Who taught her? The questions blazed and were then extinguished by sheer desire.

"Oh Christ!" I gasped, and couldn't help a downward squirm of my hips. For that I received a vicious tweak on my left nipple, which made me yelp and jolt. I fought the pain, and tried to remain standing, stock-still. Not easy when a stunningly lovely schoolgirl is trying to fit her whole hand into your snatch! I felt her hand pushing, stretching me, making my elastic vulva gape around it. I felt as if I was rushing on drugs, the sensations were so crystalline and hot and perfect. I gripped the edge of the parapet, I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming. Lucy probed, found the place she was looking for, and thrust, hard. I felt the thickness of her hand suddenly sliding through the tight noose, and into my quaking rapturous tunnel. It was awesome, It was beautiful. Now my cunt was in love with Lucy too.

"You may move now Justine... show me how a slut enjoys her fisting."

It was mad, hearing those depraved words in the voice of a home-counties teenager. What she had told me to do, I would do with such incredible pleasure, with a passion beyond the merely physical. I began to slowly rotate my hips, bearing down on Lucy's hand, clenching on it every few seconds, trying to draw it in deeper. Her fingers caressed me inside as they curled into a real fist. I groaned and snaked my hips onto it. Explosions of bliss were detonating inside me, in my head, my heart, and my cunt most of all. I found myself starting to ride her magical fist in a surging, greedy race for orgasm. Below me Piccadilly teemed. Behind me, Lucy kept her arm tense for me, occasionally thrusting hard as I pushed back. I was rising on a crazy spiral of rapture. Delirious, ecstatic. Lucy thrust firmly against my cervix, bruising it with her sharp knuckles. Her free hand reached for my clitoris - so swollen and sensitive it was throbbing quite painfully. Did she caress it? Did she stroke or work it as I would have done? No, she smacked it. Hard.

I came. I felt my cunt convulse with a power I had never known before. I gushed, splattering the roof with girl-cum. My elbows scraped the parapet while my hips danced an orgasmic fandango on the sacred fulcrum of Lucy's fist.

I sagged almost to my knees as the spasms moderated at last. Her fist was holding me up, buried past the wrist in my still thrilling tunnel. I recovered myself, and Lucy slowly drew her hand from me, extending her fingers so that I felt barely a tremor of discomfort as they left me.

"Turn around," Lucy commanded me.

I was hers completely. I obeyed.

"Lick my hand."

I tasted myself all over her. I sucked her fingers like tiny cocks, purring with a deep, deep pleasure. I wanted to take her, fuck her right away with my fingers and tongue, but without her permission, I could only carry on cleaning my juices from her hand, while gazing into her eyes with such love tears were rolling down my cheeks.

"You really are as amazing as I thought you would be," said Lucy. At last she sounded more like the girl she was. The spell of domination had passed for the moment. She held out her arms, and I took her to me. I felt the shape of her young body pressed close to mine. Her breasts seemed to burn into me.

I looked down at her in wonder.

"You knew who I was? You'd noticed me?" I was absurdly touched.

"You've been my inspiration. I had to meet you. I feel as if I've known you for years."

"I feel it too, Lucy."

"I know. I know these things. I don't know how or why, but mummy says she gets spooked by the things I just seem to know."

"Did you... engineer this whole thing? Meeting me here today, without any minders?"

"Yes, I suppose I did. Mmm... it was necessary."

"Thank you Lucy. I've never felt like a feel now. I'm in love with you Lucy." I sobbed as I said it. I felt so helpless. I wanted to grovel to her beauty.

"I've always loved you Justine, since the first time I saw you on Fashion TV."

We kissed for a while. Nothing else mattered.

Where was my concern at having sex with a girl ten years younger than me? I had none. I had never known love like this, beyond sense or normal societal barriers. I didn't care. I wanted to run away with Lucy, forever.

"I want to make love to you Lucy, I want to make you feel as you made me feel," I whispered when our lips parted.

"Umm... I can't... yet... you see... I made a promise to mum. I'm still a virgin." She said, and the disappointment on her face was picture to see.

I was bewildered. This fifteen-year-old girl had just fist-fucked me - not something that happens every day. Somehow she'd know it was exactly what I wanted to most. And now I couldn't reward her, because she had made a promise to her mother.

"I'm sixteen tomorrow. That's why I dared to meet you today, because I knew I wouldn't have to wait long."

I let out a ragged rush of air. The surprises just wouldn't stop.

"I want you so much Lucy..."

"Not till tomorrow. I always keep my promises."

The steel of command returned to her voice. How on earth did her mother cope with a teenager so strong?

"How does your mother cope with you?" I teased her.

"I tell her everything," she replied, gravely.

My eyes flew wide open. Was she going to tell her mother about me? I wondered.

"She knows how I feel about you. She told me to wait, she said I'd grow out of it. I told her this morning that I was more certain than ever that it's you that I love. And tomorrow... On my birthday. We can become one."

"We come one..." I echoed. "But Lucy, my darling beautiful Lucy... I don't understand. I don't think I understand anything except that I love you!"

"I know Justine, I know... I'm not quite normal, I know that. I'm a bit telepathic, and I can sense what people want. I can picture it in my head as clear as a film."

"Is that how you knew that I would... that you could fist fuck me?"

"Not exactly. I have done it before a few times. I wanted to make sure I got it right for you."

I gasped for the umpteenth time.

"I don't dare ask who... or how you knew it would be what I wanted."

Lucy smiled.

"You're right. Don't ask. I may tell you one day who taught me. How I found out? I dreamed it, a perfectly formed image in my head that wouldn't go away. My hand inside you."

"When you say things like that... I just melt... I'm wet again Lucy, and we have to go back to work!"

"Justine, this is the happiest day of my life."

"Mine too my darling girl!"

We frantically kissed each other for a few minutes more, and then dragged ourselves back down to the fray. We had been gone less than half an hour. No-one had missed us at all, or suspected a thing.

Lucy's mother was there for the show. Lucy told me afterwards.

"She was in the second row. I just caught a glimpse of her. She looked... not too bad. Sort of resigned."

"Did you phone her?"

"No, she's like me. She knew the moment I made love to you."

"Oh my god, she'll kill me!"

"No she won't, she'll accept you. She has done already, pretty much. It's hard for her though. She's my mum, after all. We're quite alike in lots of ways."

"Will I ever understand you Lucy?"

"I don't expect you will Justine, but don't worry. We're witches you see. From a long line of witches."

Somehow, that made sense to me, I don't know why. Lucy's strange influence I expect. How I adore every word and action from that incredible girl!

I hardly slept a wink that night. My hand was cupped over my sex, which throbbed still from the fisting, and yearned to feel the magical caresses again. I was in such a state, I nearly tripped on the catwalk that afternoon, and was extremely glad that the week was over. I could see Lucy that night. On her birthday. Alone. And the thought that she was a virgin was incredible exciting. And her precocity... well. My body trembled with anticipation. If she fisted me within minutes of meeting me, what else might she do, on longer acquaintance?!