By evening I was still feeling sensitive, my mind unable to leave the experience alone, picking at it and going over every moment in excruciating detail. My Master was wearing that inscrutable smile which always spelled danger: I knew he was planning something. Not more, I thought, no more today, please.

"Get ready for the evening now, Harriet," he told me as we lay back in our tent after tea.

"Master?"

"Your skirt, the short one, and a tee shirt."

"Is that all?"

"Did I say anything else?"

"No underwear?"

"Did I say anything else?"

"No, Master." No he didn't. Resignedly, I made to strip off my clothes, but before I had the chance my Master frowned at me and I halted. He leaned forward and unzipped the tent door, opening the flap wide and allowing the outside sunshine to flood in. And, of course, the inside scene to permeate out. I was to be allowed no privacy today, it seemed. Positioning myself in the middle of the tent, where any passer-by would be able to see quite easily, I stripped off my clothing, during which time, as it transpired, not a single person passed. Knowing my Master would be dissatisfied with this I rested on my haunches, naked, for around two minutes until we heard the swish of grass outside and a large, bearded man walked past, instantly spotting me and slowing to a crawl. I stared at him and smiled as he passed by, facing him square on with my breasts and bush on show. Turning to my Master I sought his approval. He nodded.

I dressed myself in the outfit my Master had specified: the skirt was a white, floral summer one, pleated and flouncy and not anywhere close to reaching my knees. It didn't suit me, truth to tell, but my Master liked it because it was at once demure and sluttish: I could look like I was on a Sunday School picnic, but within an instant I could be revealing myself to anyone I wished. I grabbed a pale blue tee shirt, tight fitting to reveal what meagre tits I had, and pulled it on, then looked expectantly at my Master. He smiled.

"Splendid. Ready for the dancing," he said enigmatically, nodding at the tent flap. I looked towards it and realised what he meant, then bent forward and closed it. He began to undress.

"Do you have something in mind for this evening, Master?" I asked.

"What makes you think that?"

"Experience, I think, and the smile on your face."

He laughed. "You're getting to know me too well, Harriet," he said.

"Yes, Master, far too well."

We headed for Stage One and watched a couple of acts. I had anticipated my Master making us sit down, knowing that this would be difficult for me in my short skirt and lack of underwear, but I was surprised to find he made no such move. For an idle instant I began to hope that he was taking pity on me after the morning's humiliations: as ever, of course, he was lulling me into a false sense of security.

The evening wore on and we drifted towards Number Two stage for the finale. The number two stage is much smaller, a more informal, friendly arena where you can get close to the stage and feel as though you are very much a part of a shared experience. It is always extremely busy, with standing room only and generally a tight press of bodies. I began to feel considerable disquiet. My Master's plans were beginning to become clear.

He watched my face with amusement and smiled as the moment when I understood his plans revealed itself in my expression.

"Got it in one, Harriet, you're going to make some man's evening."

A knot of dread excitement snatched at my stomach as I began to envisage what he had in store for me. The first part was clear: he was going to make me rub up against someone in my flimsy outfit and tease him as we danced. But what was going to happen next? How far was my Master going to take things?

It was dark by now, and a slight drizzle had settled over the festival, bringing people scurrying into the tent. It began to fill, the already fairly tight squeeze jostling into a scrummage of hot bodies. We were in the interval between acts, awaiting the arrival of Salsa Celtica, and my Master squeezed my hand.

"Pick whoever you want," he told me. "But whoever you choose, make sure you take him all the way. So choose carefully. Don't let me down." He looked at me with that forbidding, distant expression which I knew from experience was one to avoid. Failure was not to be contemplated.

A ripple of applause heralded the arrival of the band on stage and the crowd surged forward. I moved with the flow, slipping further into the dark confines of the tent and losing sight of my Master. He, I knew, would still have his eye on me though. I began to search the tent for a likely candidate. I needed a single person because I didn't have time to deal with the complications of a partner. Unfortunately, such was the press of people it wasn't particularly easy to tell who was with whom. I allowed myself to move with the general flow of bodies, observing all the while and appraising my options.

Finally, I settled on a likely looking candidate, a guy in his mid-thirties, a touch overweight, with a neat beard and glasses. He definitely seemed to be alone, and he was cute, in a vaguely sexless sort of way. He was clutching a can of beer and swaying indeterminately to the music, not so much self-consciously, I thought, as just lacking in practice. He had a confident enough look on his face, revealing an air of assurance, and I figured he would be able to cope with what was about to come his way.

I eased myself through the throng towards him and began to dance beside him. The band were in full swing, performing an exhilarating blend of Latin sexiness and Celtic rhythm, and almost without thinking I found myself dancing exuberantly, swinging my hips and gyrating to the sound and feel and emotion of the music. Slowly, I moved myself forward and began to dance in front of him. The music went on, sweet and loud, an intoxicating mélange of melody and beat, and I moved faster and faster, showing less and less reserve. All the while, imperceptibly, I was moving backwards until I felt his body against mine. I pressed backwards, pushing my backside into his groin, until I felt the heat of his body.