The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Title: Eight Days, Seven Girls

Author: Tropos

Categories: mc mf md fd

Tagline: Cookie is having a wonderful holiday romance. The only problem is that she keeps forgetting things. Like her boyfriend’s name.

Monday, 9am

Hello, hello, one two three. Well, I guess it’s working. Let’s see: I’m Cookie Svensen and this is my audio diary. How do I begin? In novels girls always address their diary as “Dear Diary”. I guess it defines the format: like correspondence with a friend. But “Dear Diary” sounds soppy. I’ll address it to... “Dear Emily”. So here I go.

Dear Emily,

I’ve never kept an audio diary before. I feel like I should address it to someone, just like a real diary, so I am addressing it to you, my favourite poet. Where to begin? Mrs Coulter suggested I should just talk about anything that happens to me. Well, here’s the biggest thing: I have a new boyfriend! His name is Victor. Since we first arrived at the resort we’ve been hanging out together, and talking, and making each other laugh. It was quite brotherly-sisterly. I could see he was special, an unusually nice person, but I didn’t tell him so. Then last night after dinner he asked me to dance. It was a slow dance. He made a clever joke about the music, and complemented me on my dress, and said something in Italian about ‘amore’, and suddenly I looked at him, I mean really looked at him. And I could see that under the slightly nerdy demeanour he was really very good-looking, and smart, and attractive. I fell for him, hard, just like that.

We’d already been acting like a boyfriend and girlfriend, but without touching. I think he’s a bit shy with girls, but I love that in him. When he danced with me, I suddenly couldn’t wait any longer. I squeezed his hand really hard, and gave him that look, and he smiled, and kissed me. I kissed him back, and the kiss felt so warm and soft and tingly that my head was swimming. He asked if I would like to go to his rooms and I said “Yes, very much.”

He makes love gently and romantically, with consideration, which is just how I like it best. At the end, I... Oh dear, Emily, I’m not used to talking about sex, even to a diary. If Mrs Coulter wants to listen to this, after the holiday, then I’ll have to erase this part. But anyway: at the end, I actually had the big “O”, the first time it happened to me with a boy, and it was like with hearts and flowers all over it! Oh Emily, I’m so excited just thinking about it, I want to do it with him again right now! Are you shocked? Well, I’ll invite him back to my room after lunch and we’ll see. Bye for now.

Monday, 6pm

Dear Emily, I should tell you why I’m keeping this diary. Mrs Coulter asked us to. I always fill out lottery applications that I receive on-line. And this time I won! It’s from Pangloss Holidays, a new company, and Mrs Coulter is the Director of Marketing. The prize is a free luxury holiday in Tunisia. Seven girls won. She gave us the app to make the recordings. After the holiday we’ll upload the diaries to her site. She wants to analyse our impressions so that they can improve the quality of ‘the Pangloss Holidays experience’ for customers. Also, she can quote us in marketing testimonials—we signed a release.

Before I upload it I’ll edit out any racy bits I’ve said. There’s been nothing so far though. Hmm... I can’t find the playback controls on this app. I’ll ask Mrs Coulter about it when we meet for drinks.

Mrs Coulter said we should record our impressions while they’re still fresh. Then we’ll be able to remember everything very clearly, just as it happened. If we wait we may forget. That’s never been a problem for me.

Tuesday, 9am

Dear Emily, I don’t remember if I mentioned Giles yesterday. Well, I have such wonderful exciting news for you: he’s my new boyfriend! Ever since we arrived on Saturday, we’ve been noticing each other. We didn’t say much, but I caught him watching me a few times, and he noticed me noticing him, too. I thought he was awfully good-looking, and very clever. Anyway, just after dinner there is always dancing, and last night Giles asked me to dance. It was a slow dance. Giles was being very attentive too me, and then he said something romantic to me in Italian, and I realised that he was asking me to be his girlfriend! I nodded my head and said yes, and soon we were back in his rooms.

Giles is a very technically skilled lover, I think. (Not that I’ve had a lot of others to compare him with!) He knew just how to touch me, in all the right places, building up my excitement. He seemed to find each of my nerves, one by one, and make it vibrate like the tightly stretched strings of some musical instrument. At the end I was almost begging him to do me, and then when he did it was like an explosion in a grand piano. Not that you would ever use such a silly metaphor, dear Emily, but I suspect that you never experienced a passionate encounter either. I’ve always dreamed of a take-charge lover who would make love to me just like that. If Giles keeps doing me that way, I’m sure I will fall in love with him. I think I have already, a bit.

Tuesday, 3pm

Dear Emily, something odd happened at the pool today. It involved Darren, one of the boys. Darren is a professional footballer and plays for City. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, but he’s just a rich chav. I’m not sure he’s even the richest boy here. I don’t think I mentioned that the boys aren’t lottery winners. They all had to pay, and I’m sure it was expensive. But Giles is a commodities trader, Victor owns his own software company, and Rajiv’s father owns a couple of steel mills, so I don’t think the cost was a problem. Oh, anyway, Darren. I was lying on a lounger, sunning myself, next to my boyfriend Giles. I was listening to a podcast of my American Lit professor lecturing on the New Transcendentalists. Even though I’m on holiday, I have to keep up. I have noise-cancelling headphones, so I couldn’t hear what happened; but I saw Darren stand by the edge of the pool and shout out something. At once three of the girls ran over to him and started pawing him, while grinned and put his big arms around the lot of them. Then the girls started arguing with one another, and Natalie pushed Kat into the pool, and Darren just laughed. Then Mrs Coulter came over to the pool, almost running! It looked like she had some sharp words for Darren, and then she hustled the three girls off toward her rooms, no doubt to tell them off for fighting, like a strict headmistress.

I asked Kat afterwards what the fight was about, but she didn’t seem to understand me. And I wonder how Mrs Coulter knew about the fight and got to the pool so fast. Sita told me she heard that there are hidden cameras, like Big Brother, so they can use photos of our holiday for marketing. That can’t be: they’d have to get our permission before they could do that. But I’ll be sure not to do anything in public I wouldn’t want other people to see!

Tuesday, 6pm

Emily, I should explain about Mrs Coulter. Mrs Coulter invited all the lottery winners to a drinks evening at her flat in Mayfair. It was a beautiful big flat, and Mrs Coulter even had a bartender to serve drinks. We were very jolly. The other six winners are all girls, a very lively and clever group, and very good-looking as well. At least two of them have worked as models, and I recognised Sita from television—she has had little parts in several BBC costume dramas. She’s Asian, and petite, and very pretty. I felt a bit dowdy by comparison, although I know I look OK; I did some swimsuit modelling last summer to help earn my tuition. Oh, I should tell you what I do: I’m in my last year at Cambridge, reading English Lit. If I get a First in my exams I’ll get to go to Stanford for grad school next year.

Oh yes, I was telling you about Mrs Coulter. She’s very maternal, and treats us like a mother hen fussing over her chicks. She can be bossy. And she’s quite glamourous for a woman in her forties. Like me, she’s very interested in self-help methods, like meditation, and what vitamins to take, and various therapies. She’s a bit missionary about her ideas. When we went to her flat for drinks, she demonstrated some. She led us in some ‘relaxation meditation’, and then she showed us a relaxation app she has on her laptop. It generates white noise with some faint patterns in it, and she encouraged us to listen for the patterns in the white noise while we watched the screen. The screen showed random patterns in blue and green that gently turned and mutated. At first I found it pleasant but kind of boring, but then after a while I kind of shook myself awake and realized I had completely zoned out! Mrs Coulter had been talking, saying something about her philosophy of boyfriends and girlfriends. I don’t think she noticed that I hadn’t been paying attention. We had some more drinks, and talked for a bit, and then Mrs Coulter asked us to try it again. As I said, she can be missionary about her ideas. We watched the app again, and this time it worked really well. I felt very relaxed afterwards, like I had just had a nap. Mrs Coulter talked during it, again, but I don’t remember what she said. I have a funny idea that she recited some Italian poetry.

Here at the villa Mrs Coulter has her own rooms. She constantly makes sure that the holiday is going well, and provides anything we may need. It’s nice, like having a second Mum looking after us. Every afternoon before dinner she gathers the girls in her rooms, for drinks and talk. And she always plays the app for us. It makes me feel relaxed and a little euphoric. She says it’s proprietorial to Pangloss Holidays, and they don’t sell it, but after the holiday we can each have a copy to keep.

The villa is five-star, so luxurious! We each have our own apartment, which has a comfy huge bed, plasma TVs, and a mammoth hot tub on the balcony. There’s a communal dining room with its own chef, and there is cleaning staff and a concierge. Above the dining room is the common lounge, with full-wall windows looking to the sea and the mountains. The main pool is Olympic-sized, and there are two smaller pools with a wet bar. What an amazing place! And all for just fourteen people. Fifteen, with Mrs Coulter. The routine is like this:

Wednesday, 9am

Raj is so lovely. I’ve never met anyone like him. I knew right away that I wanted to hook up with him, but we didn’t manage it until last night. It was incredible. After dinner we danced a little, and he told me about his family in India, and he showed off a little of his knowledge of languages. He speaks English, Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi, French and Italian and he spoke a few words of each. I was really impressed. I love polyglots, it’s such an attractive quality in a man. One thing led to another, and soon we were back in his rooms, kissing. He has lips like ripe plums. He asked me if I knew anything about Tantric sex, and I was amazed and delighted. I said of course, I’ve read all about it, and I’ve always wanted to try it. It didn’t take any urging. In a few minutes we were undressed and on his bed. We kissed and touched just enough to get ready, then he lay on top of me and entered me. We lay quite still, with him supporting his weight on his elbows. We meditated on our chakras, feeling the energy grow in the muladhara chakra behind the genitals. From time to time he would thrust just a little, to keep himself hard and me wet. After about 20 minutes I felt a hot glow spreading from my bottom into the rest of my body. I held off the desire to thrust, and focussed on the chain of chakras, directing the energy upwards to the crown chakra in my head. The glow intensified, and became white-hot, and a powerful current of energy began flowing up my spine. Raj felt the same thing. Then there was a white light filling my senses, and a kind of explosion in my brain. It was like an orgasm, if you think that Krakatoa was like a burst pipe. Oh god it was so wonderful and cleansing and spiritual, I am filled with love for my own guru, my darling Raj.

Wednesday, 6pm

I usually feel very refreshed and relaxed after our fiveses with Mrs Coulter, but today I have a headache. I couldn’t seem to settle. It was the usual routine. First she mixes us drinks—I had Bacardi and Lime—and we chat for a bit. Then we do one of her ‘meditation sessions’. She puts on the relaxation app, and we listen to the surf sounds and watch the circling lights while we try to clear our minds. It’s more interesting than it sounds. I usually space out right away, and time zips by—An hour seems to go by in just a few minutes. While we meditate, Mrs Coulter calls us over to her desk one at a time so she can debrief us. This is always the same series of questions about how did we like the food today, how were the beds, etc all on a scale of one to five. I can’t imagine how this justifies the money she must have spent to bring us here.

Thursday, 3:30 pm

Dear Emily, today I did something I’ve never done before. It was fun, but very naughty. I hope Mrs Coulter doesn’t hear of it. I made love outdoors! It happened like this: Most of the others went down to the beach for the day, but Harry, Darren, Sita and I stayed at the villa. Harry and I were lying on sunbeds at the big pool, and Darren and Sita were down near the other end of the pool, sunning themselves on a mat. They’re such an odd couple: she’s petite, dark, beautiful, smart and rather prim, and he’s a big lunky white footballer, such an awful vulgar oik. He tells dirty jokes and guffaws at them.

So I was lying on my front, and I saw Sita hand Darren the lotion so he could put it on her back. He did her shoulders first, then he unfastened the clasp of her top. He finished her back, then Sita turned over, and her top didn’t turn with her! I had seen a few of the other girls sunbathe topless, but Sita is usually so modest, like most Hindu girls. She has pretty, round breasts. Darren began to oil her front, and then he was massaging her breasts, and she put a hand on his neck and pulled him down to kiss, while he kept groping her.

“Harry, should we go inside and leave them alone?” I said. But Harry said “No” and began rubbing lotion on my back as well. It felt so nice. I closed my eyes. His hands are very warm and smooth. He reached my tail, then slipped his hand under my swimsuit bottom and was rubbing my buttocks! I thought I should stop him, but it felt so nice and a good girlfriend always does what her boyfriend wants. Then his hand was between my legs, and I groaned and opened my eyes. I saw Darren and Sita push each other’s swimsuits off, then he climbed on top of her and she twined her long legs around him. I saw him enter her. Harry began stroking my clit, and I couldn’t stand it any longer and turned over to face him. His swimsuit was tented by his cock, which looked uncomfortable, so I freed his lovely brown thing and gave it a few French licks. Harry must have been very turned on by the sight of Sita and Darren—I know I was—and he wanted me right away. He was on top of me in a second, and was in me, with one of my ankles up on his shoulder. It was so exciting and daring, knowing that someone might intrude at any time. He was thrusting and thrusting fiercely, deep into me. Beyond his muscular brown shoulder I could see gulls circling up into the blue sky. Their cries mingled with Sita’s cries of ecstasy. My mind seemed to rise out of my body, and my thoughts followed the gulls circling up into the deep blue, and then the gulls disappeared, and I was thrusting and crying out too, and the sun swelled and exploded and fell on me.

When I recovered my senses, I realised that we were naked, and Darren and Sita were too. Someone might come along. I kissed Harry and told him I was going to shower and put some clothes on. I’m back in my room now, recording this. Oh Emily, I hope you can understand, it was such a wonderful, life-affirming experience. Harry is magical, I always want to be with him.

Thursday, 4pm

Emily, a wonderful thing has just happened: I have a boyfriend! I had left the pool to take a shower—I don’t know why, I just felt like it—and I was returning to the pool when I walked by Steven’s door. He was standing in the doorway, and I stopped to talk. He said something to make me laugh, and then he said something in a foreign language, maybe Italian. I remembered how well we’ve gotten along since we arrived. Steven is alwas teasing me and making me laugh, and we flirt with each other in a brother/sisterly way. (I guess I’ve been flirting with Harry as well, but that didn’t mean anything.) But at that moment I realised Steven’s feelings weren’t just Platonic, he really wanted me! And I knew that I wanted him, too. He’s so cute, like a dear little dwarf—he’s even shorter than I am—but bulky and strong, too. He invited me in, still joking and flirting, and then he started to dance with me. I was giggling. I’ve never been seduced while dancing before. He twirled me once while quickly untying the belt on my robe and slipping it off my shoulders. Then a second twirl and he had unhooked the clasp on my swimsuit top. I was laughing, it was so sweet and funny. Then he was kissing the tops of my breasts, and I stopped laughing and my breath caught in my throat. I pulled off my top. He sucked hard on my nipples, and my hand found its way into his shorts. Then he pushed down my swimsuit bottoms and began stroking me there. In about thirty seconds we were up against the wall, my legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was inside me. I must have come within a minute of him entering me, and he quickly followed. It’s the way I like to do it most, fast and hard like rabbits.

I’m back in my room now, recording this—I need another shower! I asked Steven to be sure and sit by me at dinner, and he laughed and said he will if I remember to ask him again. I wonder what he meant? I’m going to Mrs Coulter’s for drinks now.

Thursday, midnight

There was a film in the lounge tonight. There’s a big pull-down screen, and the chef made popcorn! It was a romantic drama, very good, with some steamy scenes. I looked around at one point, and Victor and Cat were snogging on a sofa, and Raj had his hand up Conchita’s blouse. “Hey, get a room, you lot!” I said and everyone laughed. But afterwards Rory and I could hardly wait to get back to his bedroom. He likes to lie back and relax while I do all the ‘work’. I’m so glad. I love taking charge in the bedroom. It’s my favourite way of making love. I guess I’m a secret dom! I wore one of the maids’ uniforms that I borrowed from the laundry room. Then when he was finished, I made him watch while I touched myself. I came so hard I fainted. Dear Rory was alarmed; he managed to get out of his bonds and started giving me mouth-to mouth! I revived, and I had to laugh at the expression on his face. He’s so sweet. That set me kissing him, and soon we started up again. This time, I made Rory wear the uniform. I know I’m naughty, but as Rory says we should all try to live out our secret fantasies. When we first met we must have sensed that we were on the same sexual wavelength. Oh dear Emily, have I shocked you? You were so wise, but you never explored physical love with a lover. I know you understood the depths of the human heart, so maybe you can understand my desires, even the kinky ones.

Friday, 4pm

Dear Emily, I did something awful today. Rory was making love to me, and at a critical moment I said “Oh, Raj, Raj, Raj!” Of course a few seconds later I realised what I had said. Oh God, I was so embarrassed. I apologised and apologised. But he took it surprisingly well. In fact he was laughing. He said that it was a Freudian slip, but I insisted that I really don’t fancy Raj, which is true as you very well know, Emily. I made it up to Rory by giving him a Special Treat, which I could tell he enjoyed.

Friday, 6pm

Dear Emily, all this sun and relaxation is having a strange effect on me: it’s making me very randy. I know you didn’t have sex, but even you must have known horniness. Or maybe you sublimated it into something you gave a spiritual name to.

But this isn’t like what I’ve felt in the past, when I’ve had a boyfriend and wished I was in bed with him. I constantly imagine myself in bed with boys I barely know: The boys I’m on holiday with. And it’s not the kind of deliberately entertained fantasy I have when I touch myself—you know what I mean—No, it’s like when you unexpectedly remember a fragment of a dream, and it has a strange unreal quality because you don’t know what happened before or after. I imagine Rory kissing me, and Victor caressing my breast, and Raj penetrating me. I even imagined Harry making love to me out at the pool, with other people there! But never Darren—yuck! Even in my dreams I have some standards.

I’d like to find a boyfriend. But none of the boys here have tried to hook up with me. I wonder why?

Saturday, 4:45 pm

David and I made love for a long while this morning, then after breakfast we went into the town. We planned to shop, but we ended up just sitting in a pretty little cafe, holding hands and talking. Lunch was in a beautiful white stone restaurant, on a terrace overlooking the sea. The owner served us himself, and told us a sweet story about how he and his wife met. We had a delicious seafood salad with couscous. We went back to the villa intending to take a siesta, but of course in five minutes we were in his bed in each others’ arms.

Between times, David said something that surprised me. “Cookie, I want you to know... You’re the best girl I know. I think I’m falling in love with you. I so don’t want to lose you to someone else.” I laughed and kissed him and said, “Well I’m completely in love with you! You’re my magic boyfriend. You won’t lose me, silly. I’m going to stick to you like superglue.”

“Oh God, you really don’t know, do you. Anything about it. What’s happening here.”

“It’s love, David, not some big mystery. It’s wonderful, and better with you than it’s ever been. But I do know something about love. My three years at Cambridge have not been altogether wasted.”

“Oh my Baby, my Cookie. Look, how about you give drinks with Mrs Coulter a miss today? I know that’s where she does it, somehow. Stay here with me until dinner. We can have fun, and try some new stuff.”

“I can’t skip afternoon drinks. It’s in our agreement, we have to meet with her every day so she can debrief us for her marketing study. And I enjoy it.”

“Then promise me something. When you’re with Mrs Coulter, don’t let her persuade you of anything. Be on your guard. Be suspicious. Keep thinking about me, and how you feel about me. And especially don’t let her... turn you against me. Or make you forget me. Promise.”

“You big silly! How could she possibly? And why would she want to? Your fears are groundless, my love. But I promise. And now, what was that you were saying about new things we can try?” I rolled on top of him, and then I slowly slid down his body, writhing from side to side, until my mouth reached his cock. And then he didn’t say anything for a while. When he did it didn’t make much sense.

Saturday, 6pm

Dear Emily, Mrs Coulter said that what is happening to me is very interesting, and that when I record my diary today I’ll be able to remember everything just as it happened, like a good girl. I went to afternoon drinks at her rooms, and when she put on the meditation app, I remembered what David had said. So I decided, just for today, to meditate on David, and how he looks and sounds and how I love him. So I did. I became relaxed and spacey, as usual, but I kept picturing David and imagining his voice saying “Don’t forget... Don’t forget me...”

Then Mrs Coulter was speaking to us, telling us that we don’t have boyfriends, and the boys are very nice but we haven’t touched them, and each of us has a boy that she especially fancies, and he may dance with her tonight. I knew that this was true but not true at the same time, and I tried to keep thinking about David. The patterns were moving on the screen, and my thoughts of David were carried away by them, off the screen. Mrs Coulter’s words were in the patterns too, and the patterns filled my mind with her words, and I tried to stop it but it felt so nice just to let it happen. Then I stopped thinking.

At some point Mrs Coulter called me to her desk and I went like a good girl. She asked me questions, and I told her all about David. She told me I was going to have a new boyfriend tonight and that I should forget about David. So I did, because I always do what Mrs Coulter says.

Now I have to forget what I just said.

Well, dear Emily, that’s all for now. Another blissful day in Paradise! It’s time for dinner.

Saturday, midnight

Dear Emily, so much has happened to me tonight, I wonder if you will believe it. I scarcely believe it myself. I went down to the dining room a little early and I passed Mrs Coulter’s. There were raised voices. One of the boys sounded angry, and Mrs Coulter said, “Mr DeWinter, You know the rules, and you agreed to abide by them. If I made exceptions there would be chaos. One night only. It’s your turn with Conchita.”

Mr DeWinter is that boy David. I can’t imagine what she meant about Conchita. Conchita shows no interest in boys at all. She’s very pretty, but I think she might be gay. In fact, it’s a little odd that there haven’t been any holiday romances. The girls have all talked about it, and discussed who they fancy among the boys, but nothing has happened. Never mind, we’ve still had a lovely relaxed holiday.

Dinner was friendly and conversational. We sit at a big round table for fourteen (makes me think of Camelot.) Mrs Coulter sits alone. I sat between Giles and Victor—both very nice boys. Victor’s very nerdy, but he makes me laugh. David—the one who was arguing with Mrs Coulter—kept staring at me. That made me uncomfortable. It gave me a funny feeling, like there was something I had wanted to say to him but I had forgotten it. Finally he stopped, and turned his attention to Conchita.

After dinner I dawdled over my pudding for a bit while the others got up to dance. Finally the only ones at the table were me and Darren, that yobbish footballer. He got up and ambled over to me, leering. “Oh no”, I thought, “I will not dance with Darren.”

At that moment, I saw David and Conchita heading for the door. Her arm was around his waist, his hand was on her bum, and she was smiling like she had just found the Golden Ticket. As they went out the door, she gave me a friendly little wave. At the same moment Darren said something to me in Italian. Suddenly I was running on two tracks at once. I felt like I had just woken from a dream, and I couldn’t tell dream from reality. My boyfriend David had just gone off with someone else when he was supposed to be with me. And Darren, my other boyfriend, was expecting me to dance with him even though I don’t like him one bit. I felt like I was caught in a vise that was squeezing the life out of me. And then something broke inside me, like a mirror shattering. I began to cry. I knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong, and that everything I believed was an illusion, and that I had been deceived.

Mrs Coulter hurried over to me. She looked at me and then opened her laptop on the table. “Here, Cookie, look at this. You need to relax.” I didn’t want to look. I knew that I had a fingerhold on some real truth, and it was important to hang on to it and understand it. If I relaxed I would lose it. Mrs Coulter started her relaxation app. From the corner of my eye I could see the patterns move on the screen, and I heard the white noise begin, but I didn’t look.

Mrs Coulter took my chin in her hand and turned my face to the screen. I saw the soothing patterns, that always make me relax and feel happy. I love that app. The white noise filled my hearing. I thought I’ll just look for a few seconds, to calm me down then That is so soothing, I’ll just look for ten more seconds, then This is really helping me focus, I’ll just look for another minute. The shapes on the screen were maps of my thoughts. There were red patches that were my pain and anger. The calm green and blue shapes moved to enclose the red patches, and subdue them, and dissolve them away. I stopped crying. My mind became very smooth, and I was glad because then I could focus all my attention on the pretty swirling patterns. The patterns began to move in a great concentric wheel, and I gasped as I was drawn into it. I heard Mrs Coulter say “I’m very sorry about this little hiccup, Mr Edgars. Cookie just got a little confused about who she is supposed to be with. I’ll have her reprogrammed for you in a few minutes.” Then she said, “Cookie, I’m going to send you very deep now. I have to reset your memories. Close your eyes like a good girl.” My eyes closed.

I don’t know how long I was asleep for. When I awoke, Mrs Coulter closed her laptop and said “Thank you for your patience, Mr Edgars. I’m so sorry you had to wait. In compensation I’ve added a little extra conditioning that I hope will please you. Cookie is all yours now.” I felt stoned. Darren grabbed my arm and hustled me down the corridors to his rooms. I knew I had to go with him. Whem we got there he tore off my dress—he’s very strong—and threw me onto the bed. Without any preliminaries he took me, roughly, from behind. Oh Emily, he was brutal. I was on all fours like an animal. While he fucked me he slapped my buttocks and thighs until they were red as sunburn. I still have some bruises. He didn’t talk to me, but he shouted “Giddyap!” and laughed like I was a horse he was riding. Then he grabbed my hair and pulled me half-upright so he could squeeze my breasts. He pinched and twisted my nipples so hard I cried out in pain.

And then I came and came and came and screamed like a banshee. Oh God it was glorious. It’s my favourite way of making love. How did he know? Oh Emily, it was so wonderful, I want to never be fucked by any other boy ever again.

Then he wanted me to go down on him, and do some other things I won’t talk about, and I did them because I’m a good girlfriend who always obeys. Afterwards, I lay beside him, and kissed him, and told him that I loved him. I asked if we could live together when we got back to England. He laughed and told me he was married. I started to cry. But then he said that he travels to away football matches all the time, and I can follow him and we can shack up in his hotel. I felt better at that. I’ll be one of those “WAGs”—Wives And Girlfriends—who follow the teams, that the tabloid papers always write about! Of course I’ll have to drop out of Cambridge, but as Darren says, he never even went to university and he’s done alright for himself.

Darren says he’s going to take his wife Chablis away on one of Mrs Coulter’s holidays. After that he’ll be able to introduce me to Chablis, and the three of us can have some fun together. I’d like that.

Sunday, noon

We’re about to leave for London. Dear Emily, I’m not going to be able to talk to you any more. Mrs Coulter says she is going to upload my diary and delete this app. Goodbye, dear Emily.

Several months later

Hello, hello. I guess it’s recording. This is my audio diary. Let’s see: Dear Diary, My name is Cookie Svensen, and I’m recording this because something great has happened! I have won an all-expenses-paid holiday in the Mediterranean! I’ll have to ask my boss at Wal-Mart if I can take a week off, but I’m sure it’ll be OK. That sweet Mrs Coulter, the lady from the travel company, said she would persuade my boss if necessary. I hope I meet some nice boys there!