Chapter One.

Zardania in Eastern Europe, 1972.

The insistent click of the film projector started again, and as the screen lit up, an electric guitar riff played out.

"The makers of Manikin Cigars have one aim in life. To bring you sheer enjoyment."

A long-legged blonde, wearing a soaking-wet shirt and black bikini bottoms, appeared as the male voice spoke. She traipsed through a thick jungle and waded in a stream as the music grew louder. The young model looked into the camera and then turned her back as she shed her white shirt. She jumped into the water and laughed as she splashed about topless.

"Sheer enjoyment, from Manikin Cigars. From one of Britain's leading cigar makers.

The film ran out and made a flickering sound.

"Tiffany, ah yes, my beloved Tiffany. Soon, my sweet. We shall meet very soon."

The obese middle-aged man turned in his seat in the darkened room and clicked his fingers twice.

"Again. Rerun it," he ordered in a thick Eastern European accent.

The man faced the medium-sized movie screen once more as an unseen aide tinkered with the 8mm film projector, and the film clattered into life again.

x

London.

"So, I have to meet up with Uncle Arthur at noon to discuss this mysterious proposal. How exciting!"

"Tiff...please, stop talking."

The twenty-year-old blonde stunner was naked on her hands and knees on her bed in her dominantly pink bedroom. She was conversing with her steady boyfriend, Ray, who was busy screwing her from behind. This is our titular heroine, Tiffany Jones. Fashion and nude models in the vibrant and heady seventies. She was a product of the time, managing just the proper combination of vulnerability and sexuality. Admittedly, Tiff was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but the youthful model made up for her lack of grey matter with her happy-go-lucky attitude and enthusiasm. The nicest thing about the girl was her niceness. The striking blonde was always in great demand by most fashion magazines and advertising companies for their television commercials. She currently resided in West London and shared a flat with her cousin Jo.

"I...I'm close."

Ray screwed his eyes shut and tried to quell his impending climax, just for a bit longer. Tiffany studied her newly manicured nails nonchalantly and puffed out air to lift her brow-length fringe.

"Don't force it, Ray. Slow down and count backward from fifty."

Tiffany yawned and looked at the alarm clock on her bedside cabinet. She and Ray had been fucking doggy style for about three minutes at the most. About average for her humdrum sex life with the up-and-coming photographer.

"Can't hold...back! AGH!"

Just as Ray began to ejaculate, the blonde beauty yelped.

"Crikey! It's eleven! I must get ready!"

Ray gasped as his girl got up and his shining cock came out of her pussy and slapped back onto his belly with a sloppy pop. She hurried into the bathroom and began to run a shower.

"Tiffany! You could have waited another minute!"

Ray moaned and wanked his dribbling prick in frustration at his ruined orgasm and looked down at the tiny pool he had left on the pink sheet. Tiffany returned in the buff with a wet towel around her head, a few strands of hair matted to her damp shoulder. Ray was again in awe of her spectacular figure as she stood in the doorway to the bedroom. Slim and long-limbed, she had medium-sized breasts with hard nipples that stuck out like two bullets. Her lengthy strawberry-blonde tresses usually reached halfway down her slender back and ended just above her firm bottom. She looked at her brown-haired lover with her light grey eyes and tilted her head slightly to the left. Blessed with high cheekbones and a permanent pout, he sighed and fell in love with her all over again.

"Ray, I simply don't have the time. Anyway, Jo will be back soon."

The willowy blonde took off her towel and dipped her head forward before whipping her long hair back over her shoulders. She sat at her vanity table and began to brush her hair while she looked at herself in the mirror.

MI6! What on earth do they want with me, she wondered? She surveyed her dream room with the abstract paintings on the walls, discarded multi-coloured patchwork bedspread, and the scatter cushions that were now dumped on the rug.

"Oh, and Ray. Could you be a darling and change the sheets? Bit icky."

x

The 1960s counterculture movement had rapidly undone many existing social taboos, and divorce, extramarital sex, and homosexuality were increasingly accepted in the Western world. The event of legalized abortion and over-the-counter birth control pills also played a major factor. Western Europe was in some ways more progressive on sexual liberation than the United States, as nudity in film and on TV had been gradually accepted there from the mid-1960s, and many European countries during this time began allowing women to go topless in public places. Tiffany had come of age in the swinging sixties and had embraced the era with open hands. And open legs. Dreaming of a glamorous life as a model who travelled the world had soon become a reality for the unblushing young blonde.

"Zardania! Flipping Zardania! Why, there's not even a beach. Nobody wants to holiday in that dump. I want to go to the Bahamas."

Wilson massaged his temples as he watched Tiffany take a bite out of her second hamburger. They were at the back of the Wimpy Burger joint on Oxford Street as her Uncle, 'something' in the Ministry, related the story.

"Please, my dear. Just listen."

Her fifty-year-old Uncle rubbed his oversized nose and huffed.

The 1970s were seen as a 'pivot of change' in world history, focusing especially on the economic upheavals that followed the end of the postwar economic boom. It was characterized by frequent coups, domestic conflicts, civil wars, and various political upheavals. In the second half of the sixties, the British Government had taken more of a backseat role in the Cold War, but there was still a need for the SIS, the UK's Secret Intelligence Service, also known as MI6. The organisation secretly worked around the world to make the UK safer and more prosperous.

Which was where Uncle Arthur came in.

"Where on earth is it anyway?"

"East of Romania. Well, it's true. The President of the People's Republic of Zardania, Boris Kabal, is besotted with you and watches your television commercial you made last year for 'Ever Dream Mattresses' every night. We have his rooms bugged, so we know this for a fact."

"Right. The commercial is with me naked under the sheet on the bed. That was a good one. Sure, you won't have a burger?"

The winsome blonde held up her half-eaten bun with tomato ketchup running down her slender fingers.

"Thank you, no. He will be coming to England in person for the very first time for a trade deal. We also know that he is here to arrange a purchase of a special consignment of weapons he needs to quell the simmering revolution in his country. At the same time, his revolutionary enemies also seek arms to rise against him. We need your help to locate the cache. We don't want him corrupting his fellow compatriots in England."

"Can't you just get James Bond?"

Tiffany beamed from under a floppy, wide-brimmed hat and took a sip of orange juice through a coloured straw.

"He wouldn't look good in a bathing suit. Doesn't have the legs. No, Kabal wants you specifically to be his poster girl for his tourist campaign. He wants his country to attract visitors when he has total power. Once you're in his domain, you can find out the location of the guns. You'll be doing us a heck of a favour."

"Well, do I get to keep the money for the promotion?"

"Yes, you may, it should be quite a bit. He is very enamoured of you."

"Hmm, can't say I blame him. When can I expect to start?"

"Next Monday. A car will be sent to your location to pick you up. Agreed?"

"Agreed. For Queen and Country."

Tiffany saluted and swallowed a French fry with a big grin.

x

Born in London in January 1952, Tiffany had loving parents who encouraged her to follow her heart and enjoy life. Her mother, in particular, was the inspiration for Tiffany's love of dancing and modeling. She inherited her good looks and stunning figure from her mother, who had achieved some small success as a screen actress in a few Hammer Horror movies. After the birth of Tiffany, she retired from acting to become a stay-at-home mum. Tiffany had not enjoyed school, excelling in only sports.

As a youngster, the blossoming girl already admired and wished to be like famous British models such as Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton, and Mary Quant. In the early 1970s, Scandinavia had many tall, leggy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed models, and this look caught on in England. It was during this time that The Sun newspaper began to promote a large image of a topless female glamour model (known as a Page 3 girl) on the third page of the mainstream red-top tabloid. The Sun introduced the feature, publishing its first topless Page 3 image on 17 November 1970. The Sun's sales doubled over the following year, and Tiffany managed to pose on no less than three times in twelve months. Her breathtaking assets thus led to many modelling assignments all over the globe. In recent months, she had begun to feature in television commercials. In particular, the raunchy kind of cigar and tobacco adverts.

x

Tiffany answered the doorbell at noon and hit the street. Dressed in her brand new blue and white polka dot summer dress and tan sandals with wedge heels, she was met by a uniformed chauffeur.

"Miss Jones?" he asked with a heavy accent.

"That's me," Tiffany said in a bubbly voice.

The rear door of the limousine was opened, and she got in to sit next to a stern-looking frump of a woman.

"Hello."

"Good day. I am Anna Karakin. Drive on, Pretcek."

"Are we going far?"

Karakin turned to Tiffany and sneered. She wore a similar uniform to Pretcek and sported a severe crew cut and a curled lip.

"YOU may indeed go far, young lady. If you play your cards right. Now, no talking."

Charming! Thought Tiffany. Wonder if all Zardanians are like her? The ride through the countryside took about forty-five minutes as Tiffany looked out of the window at the passing fields. They eventually arrived at a vast stately home, one that had been loaned to Kabal for the duration by the Government. As they got out, Tiffany was gripped firmly by the elbow and steered quickly to the main study. The room was quite large, airy, and had a high ceiling.

"The girl, Excellency."

"Bring her into the light."

Tiffany was forced to stand on a chalk mark in front of a blank white projection screen. She shielded her eyes as she tried to see the President through the harsh light that had been turned on her. She saw a haze of blue cigar smoke that rose from a silhouette of a man.

"Now, remove her dress."

"Yes, Excellency."

Tiffany howled as her new dress was rent in two by the bulky female and left in tatters at her feet. Left standing in her white panties, the young model protested.

"HEY! Just a minute! If you wanted me to strip, you only had to ask!"

A voice came from the man seated in a plush armchair about ten feet away.

"Quiet! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Boris Kabal, President of the People's Republic of Zardania. I am here in your country to try to encourage young people to visit my homeland."

"Well?"

Tiffany stood straight back with her chin up and breasts thrust out, the rosy nipples stiffening as she spoke. She was perfection with long, graceful pins, a slender waist, and lustrous locks that tumbled over creamy skin. Tiffany was well aware of her attractiveness to men and was bloody proud of it.

"And you want me?"

Boris rubbed his chin and sucked on a rather large and phallic-shaped cigar.

"Oh yes. I want you, Miss Jones."

He eyed her fine form up and down and inhaled deeply. In particular, he was drawn to the seductive way her breasts rose and fell, and the sheen of sweat making her skin glisten.

"Oh yes. After a year of longing, watching your face and body on screen every night, you are now here before me like a dream come true."

"Yes, for the poster, right?"

"Poster? Oh, right. Yes, I had my Head of Security, Anna Karakin, fetch you. Ah, your hair, your face, your...body."

The fat man leered at her as he got up and approached her. His gaze lingered on her firm, ripe bottom as he stood in front of her. Tiffany shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, suddenly feeling a mite exposed.

"I said to myself, if I ever get to London, I shall seek out my dream girl and bring her to me."

"What am I expected to do?"

Kabal snapped his fingers, and Anna again held Tiffany by the elbow. The President sat back in his armchair and settled on the armrests.

"I am a wealthy man, despite my country's somewhat abject poverty. And I am prepared to pay you £1,000 for just one hour."

Tiffany shrieked as Anna whipped down her panties from behind and left her naked in her high heels. The startled blonde covered her bare box and clamped her thighs shut.

"What's the deal!"

"One hour, Miss Jones. It's all I need to spank your delightful derriere. You see, I have a fetish for the female bottom. And you have the perfect behind."

"You want to give me a spanking for a thousand quid? And no funny stuff?"

"My pleasure is in the act of the spanks, my dear. No more."

"And if I refuse?"

Anna cracked her knuckles and raised her left brow. The brute of a woman removed her jacket and flexed her developed biceps. Kabal patted his knees and spread his hands. Was this beast of a man proposing to smack her bare nates? Tiffany looked at Anna with trepidation and bit her lip as she slowly walked over to Boris. He turned her around and fondled and groped her cheeks, pinching the right for good measure.

"Lovely, very lovely. Now lie across my lap."

Tiffany did so and experienced a shiver of excitement at the same time. She stretched out with her legs behind her and her arms in front as she drew herself across his large thighs. Her head dipped forward, and her curtain of fair hair fell to the ground. The blonde was acutely aware that the wispy, fine pubes that covered her bulging pussy mound were exposed between her upper thighs. She smiled as the President fondled the exquisite curves of her bum.

CRACK!

The first spank came as a surprise, and Tiffany yelled out loudly.

SMACK!

Another blow landed on her left cheek with a resounding echo, and Tiffany wriggled and writhed on the man's lap. His flattened hand came down once more, harder and firmer, and Tiffany felt her bottom ablaze with nonstop throbs. Now, in a steady and persistent assault, Boris rained down spank after spank, and Tiffany yelled out. Firmly held in place, Tiffany kicked her legs up at the knees and wagged them in the air. Under her midriff, the telltale lump in his groin began to rub against her left thigh. The bastard had a hard-on! More swats met her buttocks with perfect precision, and Tiffany arched herself up, which made her arms reach behind her somewhat painfully. Her legs kicked violently, but she stayed in place across his thighs. Her bottom got redder and redder as he kept spanking her. As her moans grew louder, so his fingers got busier. It was then that she realised that the whacking of her bum was being intermittently mixed with a healthy groping of her sex.

"Bottom up, please."

Boris was now snaking both his hands along the backs of her thighs, and then he leisurely pushed her legs apart and dug the flattened palm of his hand against the bare flesh of her pussy! Tiffany gasped as his fingertip felt the soft pink skin of her anus, and a wave of a thrill reverberated throughout her loins. Her hot and stinging bottom thrust up by itself as Boris applied several short, sharp smacks on her rump, left cheek, and then right, and then back again.

"OW!"

Tiffany bounced and swivelled. Boris was deliriously happy as he studied the smooth cheeks that were now suffused with a mass of red blotches. He chuckled at the crude outline of his fingers that had been burned into her buns. He gave an overlapping barrage of smacks, and to Tiffany, it appeared as if he possessed six hands!

"Yikes!"

Boris chuckled as he was handed a hairbrush by Anna.

"My dear Miss Jones, brace yourself for the finale."

Tiffany blinked twice and squeezed the muscles in her muff and was pleased by the wetness that oozed from within. There seemed to be a long pause, and Tiffany twisted her head to look up and over at Boris.

"By the way, Excellency. Our agent in Kent has informed me that the cache of weapons will arrive by aircraft at Maypole Airfield at midnight tomorrow."

"Do not bother me with such details now, Anna. Be gone."

"Heavens!"

Tiffany stiffened as the hard back of the brush struck her across both cheeks of her glowing bum. Boris inhaled deeply as he alternated hard blows on each cheek. The brush rebounded each time it struck, and Tiffany bucked furiously in response. The very air whistled as Boris swung his right arm up and brought it down with sharp cracks. Her feet kicked up high in her shoes as Tiffany suffered more indignity.

BAM, BAM, BAM!

Tiffany shrieked as she received three hammer blows on her raw left buttock.

BAM, BAM, BAM!

Three more on the opposite globe, and Tiffany was astonished and embarrassed as she achieved a mini orgasm.

"I love your bottom, Miss Jones. I worship it."

Tiffany winced as her quivering buttocks were caressed and then kissed lightly. Then he slipped between her thighs and nodded as he felt her wetness in her juicy slit.

"This is good. I am most pleased. I think this could be the start of a very interesting relationship. What do you say, Miss Jones?"

The leggy blonde stood up and tentatively explored her mottled behind with her fingers. She studied the smug President reproachfully and scoffed.

"Not bloody likely! This is purely a one-off. My money, please."

Boris indicated to Anna, who produced an envelope stuffed with ten-pound notes. Tiffany stepped over to the door. Her bottom throbbed painfully, and the whole of her rump was swathed in bright crimson.

"Give her some clothes and take her home."

The President lit a large cigar and settled back. Anna took the slightly frazzled Tiffany to a small side room and handed over a charcoal grey uniform just like the one she wore.

"Really? How plain."

She put on the mid-length skirt and then the tunic, and covered her trim young figure. Once she was dressed again, Tiffany was unceremoniously dumped outside the manor house. The chauffeur was already waiting by the limo to take her home. Tiffany sat in the back and settled gingerly on her tender bottom. She attempted to sit in the seat side saddle and looked out of the window as the daylight began to fade. After a while, she noted the different routes they seemed to be taking.

"Hey! This isn't the way to Chelsea! This is the Harrow Road. Take me home."

"I take you. I take you to good people. Good Zardanians."

"What? What do you mean?"

Pretcek looked in the rearview mirror at the blonde in the nondescript uniform.

"Kabal is a bad man. He ruined my country with his personal greed and careless budget. He must be overthrown. Long live the revolution."

"Now hang on. What is this to do with me?"

"You know he plans to kidnap you and return to Zardania with you as his slave, yes? You should not support this tyrant. Ah, we are here."

The car pulled up outside a seedy restaurant that offered genuine Zardanian fare. Tiffany was again manhandled and jostled into the hot kitchen at the back. There she was confronted by three men with bristling moustaches. The biggest walked up to her and growled as he snatched the lapels of her tunic and tore it from her body.

"Oh, fudge! Not again!" Tiffany sighed as her tits popped out of the ruined jacket.

x

"All we want is an answer to a few questions. If you refuse to answer voluntarily, we may be forced to try other methods."

"Please, I've told you all I know."

"You lie. You are in his pay, are you not?"

"Look. I never met him before today. He saw my television commercial and, well, he just liked the look of me. My posterior in particular."

"I find it hard to believe our President would fall for a Western whore. You even wear his uniform! Where are the weapons stashed? If you refuse to cooperate, Stefan here will be forced to persuade you in his unique fashion.

"Oh no, please! I don't know about any guns, I don't."

Tiffany spoke from her rather unusual position. That was stark naked and secured to a wooden beam that ran horizontally about five feet up from the floor. She was bent backward at a 45-degree angle over the crossbeam, and her wrists were tied together by a rope behind it. The binds were then connected to a metal ring embedded at the base of the beam.

Likewise, her ankles were cupped in metal bracelets that were shackled by chains to the floor. With her head back and facing the ceiling, Tiffany had her belly thrust out and her plump mons fully displayed from the V made by her upper thighs. Unable to move without causing undue strain on her upper body.

"Begin."

Stefan was dressed all in black and wore nylon gloves. He approached the struggling young model and caressed her soft thighs, which made her shiver in anticipation. She did not see but only felt the glove creep over her belly. Tiffany stiffened and moaned as Stefan probed her soft pussy and began to insert the middle finger of his right hand to probe inside her inner folds. The nylon felt smooth as she was fingered gently, and her upthrust breasts quivered as she inhaled deeply.

"That feels kind of nice."

As her wet sex was fingered, the vibrant young model was subjected to a steady penetration of her soft pussy, and her hips rocked uncontrollably as the beast called Stefan laughed. Despite the uncomfortable stance, the blonde was turned on by a sexual buzz in her hot loins. Her toes curled as she went onto the balls of her feet, and her lustrous hair danced as she shook her head in desperate denial.

"I, that is..."

Tiffany's neck ached as she tried to look up, but her ridiculous position forbade it. Her vulva contracted and opened as her unexpected pleasure began to mount. Despite herself, the blonde stunner was on fire.

"Golly!"

Tiffany shrieked as the ground fell away, and she was lifted into a horizontal position facing the ground. The rings in the floor had been loosened, and the brave young female found herself suspended in mid-air with her arms and feet up behind her.

"Continue, Stefan," said Pretcek.

With her legs up and wide, all of her captors stared at her ripe pussy with the now plump labia. After a suspenseful pause, Tiffany gasped as what felt like a peacock feather was dragged along her nether regions from the top of her mound down the crack of her bum to her anus. The lightest of touches of the bird's plumage made her entire body moist with perspiration. Then the feather was moved up her front until it stopped at her left breast, where it was run in a circle around her rock-hard nipple. Every stroke heightened her sense of exhilaration, and her skin grew goose bumps.

"Gosh! How lovely!"

Once Stefan had teased both nipples until Tiffany feared they might explode, the soft feather trailed down her stomach to her inner thighs. The Zardanian blew air on her exposed mound of Venus, and Tiffany moaned loudly.

"That...feels...so...good."

Pretcek and the other two watched enthralled and all sported boners as the suspended model rocked to and fro on her binds. Her still raw and tender posterior clenched, and Tiffany tensed as the feather tickled the hard nub of her clitoris for two seconds. The neatly trimmed fair pubes were quite darkened and wet as Stefan twirled the feather around her mound before running it in a line up her outer petals.

"Touch it, touch it, touch it!" Tiffany begged for the exquisite touch of the feather on her clit once more.

Stefan skillfully brushed Tiffany at that sublime spot, and waves of untold tingling spread through her juicy muff.

"Don't stop whatever you're doing."

Tiffany felt as if she would explode any second as the fine edge of the feather was pressed into the very slit of her pussy.

"Can't...take...much...more."

"Okay, that's enough."

"Wha...what? NO!"

Tiffany let out a raucous cry as she was left hanging, literally and in sexual denial.

"Maybe we can continue after we learn where the weapons are to be delivered, yes?"

"Alright, you win. The cache is being flown into a small airfield in Kent at midnight tomorrow. The Maypole Airfield. And that is all I know. I promise."

"Let her down."

Tiffany stood, bemused and sexually inflamed. Wobbly on her feet, she held out her arms in search of some support, which was when, from behind her, one of the men held a handkerchief to her mouth, and the sweet-smelling chloroform sent her to sleep immediately.

x

Uncle Arthur called Tiffany two days later to inform her that the cache of weapons had been seized, the revolutionaries held, and President Kabal returned to Zardania in disgrace.

"Well, thanks again for all your valued help, my dear Tiffany. You were superb. I have the distinct feeling that we will be calling on your services again in the future."

"Very well, Uncle. Bye-bye."

Tiffany cradled the telephone and turned to her boyfriend Ray, who was naked on the bed. The vibrant young blonde looked ravishing in her sexy baby doll nightie in white lace. What an adventure! It had been exciting, dangerous, and certainly quite titillating. As she watched Ray stroke his hard-on, Tiffany gave him a wry smile. In her hand, she held up a brilliant, shimmering peacock feather. She went over to the bed and lay on her back, and the nightie rode up to display her moist muff.

"Whenever you're ready, lover."

She gave Ray the feather, who spun it around in his hand and giggled as he joined her on the bed.

END