The Misadventures of Tiffany Jones

Note- This is inspired by the many erotic novels from the seventies and erotic fiction that appeared in men's top-shelf magazines published in England by publisher Paul Raymond.

xxx

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 in 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, run it again." 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 8 mm film projector and the film clattered into life over 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 model 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.

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 it 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-colored 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 reached puberty in the swinging sixties and had embraced the era with open hands. And open legs. Dreaming of a glamorous life as a model who traveled 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 was 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 and 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 call at your place 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 got her good looks and stunning figure from her mother, who has seen 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 modeling 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." Said, Anna.

"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 by her feet. Left standing in her white panties the young model protested.

"HEY! Just a minute!"

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 placed his arms on the rests.

"I am a wealthy man besides 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 sandals. 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 really 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 lay across my lap."

Tiffany did so reluctantly but 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 forwards and her curtain of fair hair fell to the ground. The nervous blonde was acutely aware that the wispy fine pubes that covered her bulging pussy mound were exposed between her upper thighs. She grimaced as the President fondled the exquisite curves of her bum and tried to shut her mind off.

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 for a break. She attempted to raise off of the brute's lap but her wrists were pulled back and her arms up onto her lower spine.

"Behave yourself, Miss Jones. Remember the money."

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 an obscene groping of her sex.

"I said no funny stuff!"

"Relax, my dear. Just some good old-fashioned fun. Now, bottom up if you would."

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 swiveled. One, to try to avoid the spanks, and two, to try to stay away from his stiff erection. 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! Are we done yet?"

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 surprised 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 hardback 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." Announced the President as he 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 of 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 budgets. He must be overthrown. Long live the revolution."