English Girl Goes To Brighton (Part 3) free porn video

Still blindfolded, still bent over and bound to the leather chair, Hayley waited for him.  The taste of his come was still there, still strong, on her tongue and in the back of her throat.  She savored it, just as she did the wet feel of his come in her tender asshole.  The cheeks of her bottom were sore, both from his hand and her wicked, wooden hairbrush.  Her nipples were so damn tender she could feel the air move when the central heat kicked on.  She’d wanted to feel completely owned, to be his, beyond a doubt.  Mission accomplished.  Reinforcing this, multiplying it even, was that she still hadn’t come, the need inside her towering and massive, threatening to crush her.  

Her emotions swung wildly as she waited there, draped over the chair.  No orgasms for twelve days, and she’d now been edged more than sixty times, not to mention being spanked and plugged and teased.  At times, she was certain that he was going to let her come, that no one could be that cruel, and the sweet anticipation made her giddy.  Then her emotions would swing the other way, down to where she was certain that he wasn’t going to let her come, and she would be on the verge of tears.  She remembered his little comments about her going a month without, how he seemed to be joking.  But was he??  Part of her wanted the denial, wanted him to keep pushing her, keep challenging her, keep demonstrating who owned who.  He was probably sensing this, her willingness to go further; he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. 

He’d come the night before and twice today.  The unfairness of it should have angered her, but instead it made her happy.  She loved that her body had turned him on, that she had pleased him, by giving herself to him and by choosing the chair.  She was not being punished; she was getting what she craved and needed.  She was his, to do with as he pleased, which was everything she wanted.  The more wicked the things he did, the more she felt his.

Another drop of his come dribbled out of her and down the inside of her thigh.  She hadn’t heard him in a while, had no idea where he was or how long he’d left her there.  She tried to be good.  Tried to wait for him, wondering how long it would take for his cock to get hard a third time.  But then, when her emotions had fallen back into a valley, she couldn’t bear it any longer.  Her voice very quiet, she dared, “Sir, please.”

A moment later, she heard his footsteps, closer and closer.  Would he be mad?  Disappointed?  His hand touched her back, running up and down her skin.  His touch, his attention, was such a relief.  His voice kind, he asked, “What was that, baby?  Are you asking to be untied?”

“No Sir.  Just…please.” It was so hard to ask, to risk his saying no, to show her need.  Asking for sex, for his cock, seemed much easier.  “I need your touch.  Just your touch.”

Gently, he lifted her head and kissed her.  “Okay, good girl.”  Another kiss.  “Do you want me to play with you?  Do more wicked things with my naughty and owned slut?”

“Yes, Sir.  Please.”

He said, “Okay.”  Then it started, again.

###   

It was driving her crazy, but it wasn’t going to make her come.  She so needed to.  The desperation filled her, and she had never needed anything like she needed this.  She would do anything to come, and she truly meant anything.  

“Sir, please, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t come this way.  Please.”  The vibrating plug was in her ass, on the medium setting.  Then he’d introduced her to a new toy, a little vibrating egg.  That was now in her pussy, the two vibrating against each other, sending wicked shivers through her entire body.  Fuck she needed to come.  He knew she needed her clit rubbed (or licked!) to come, was just doing the most wicked of edges ever.  He was such a bastard.    

He asked, “Are you asking me to touch your clit?”

“Oh God, yes.  Please yes.  I’ll do anything.  Please.”

“But you’ll already do anything for me, won’t you my slut?  You’re owned.”  Bastard.  But he was right about that.  What could she offer when she’d already given him everything?  He asked, “Are you sure you can’t come this way?”

She started to answer, but he interrupted her with two of his fingers.  They pressed deep into her snatch, surprising her.  He pulled out the vibe, which should have been a relief, but strangely her snatch missed it, wanted it back.  He stuck his fingers back in deep, causing her to cry out.  You agreed to this, crawled to the chair like a little slut, begged him to use you, she reminded herself.  Yet she knew deep down, the answer would always be the same, that she would always make the crawl to the chair, always choose his wicked games.    

His fingers moved around inside her, the tips pressing against the walls of her pussy.  God, it made her feel owned, no way to close her legs, no way to stop him, like he was inspecting her, inspecting her pussy, turning her inside out.  Why did she love giving herself to him?  And the wicked, wicked things he did?  Was it simply that she loved his attention?  She did so like to please…  Hayley knew a great deal of it was trust, that she’d known him for so long, knew that he was a good man, that he’d always cared about her.  It was like he’d known her dirty little secrets all along, knew who she really was, and still wanted her.

He said, “It should be just about there…”. His fingers kept searching through her wetness, she had no idea for what, running up and down the back wall of her pussy.  It felt good against the vibe in her ass.  Then she gasped, loudly.

Still using his weatherman voice, he said, “That’s it.  It always feels a little different…”

It felt weird.  It felt good.  It felt more weird than good.  What the hell is he doing?   He kept rubbing that spot with his two fingertips, rubbing it in circles, just like he did with her clit. Then it felt more good than weird, but still plenty weird.  Her whole body started to tremble, like the beginnings of an earthquake, started to shake hard against the ties binding her wrists and ankles.  “Sir, please, oh God.”

“You’re not going to come, are you?  Nothing is touching that little clit I own.  I thought you couldn’t come without rubbing your clit.”

“Oh God, oh My God, OH MY GOD.”

“And you wouldn’t come without permission, would you?  It might be March before I let you come again…”  That wicked comment pushed her right to the wicked edge.  

Loudly, she asked, “Please, sir, pleasepleaseplease, may I come?”

“Come for me, my slut.  Come hard.”

God, the words she’d so longed for.  She still doubted she could come this way, but her whole body was shaking, shaking hard, the chair rocking with her.  So, so close.  She was making the odd little noises, gasps and snorts and little yelps.  Desperate didn’t even cover it anymore.  She felt liked she’d die if she didn’t come, if he stopped now.  The two weeks of being teased, being edged so many times, the wickedness of the train ride and being over the chair for hours, it had filled her with the Mount Everest of needs.  It was a giant balloon, filled far too full.  It needed to pop, needed to explode.  She needed relief.  

He got impatient.  “Now would probably be a good time to stop.  Perhaps I was wrong…”  That thought, of being edged yet again, pushed her over the edge.  It started deep within her pussy, and spread out from there like ripples across a pond, down her legs to her straining toes, up her spine to her pounding heart and panting lungs.  She cried out, “Yes, yes, yes,” her cries getting louder and louder, filling the room.  She came.  It was insanity, the balloon filled with propane, popped with a match.  If she’d had any choice, it would’ve been too much, far too intense.  The yes’s turned into something more primal, a half moan and half scream, low and long and loud.  Her whole body shook, the chair shook.  She wanted to please him, wanted to be a good girl, so she did let go, let it rumble through her body, on and on.  It was pure bliss.  Unreal.  She nearly passed out, it was so intense.  

He wasn’t done.

His fingers disappeared, which seemed a prayer answered.  Then she felt the little egg vibe back against her pussy.  “No, please no, God no.”

“What word was that?  You’re not supposed to use that word, are you?”

The vibe was between his fingers.  He guided it in, found the same spot, pressed the vibe against it.  

“Fuck.  Please, no.  It’s too much.  Please, dear God.”

In an instant, another ripped through her, like being shocked, it was so intense and so quick.  She hadn’t stopped coming from the first orgasm as this second wave hit.  He moved the vibe around in tiny circles, but always around that spot.  

“Hayley, I think we’ve found your G spot.  I’m thinking you’ll become close friends.  I can’t wait to watch you try to find it with your fingers, or maybe a vibe, on your knees, your red ass high in the air, as I watch from behind.  It’ll be another way to edge you.”

The fingertips left her pussy, left the vibe there.  For a second she relaxed, hoping she'd have a moment to come back down to earth.   Then his very, very wet fingertips found her clit.  

“Oh, no.  Sir, please, no.  God, it’s too much.”  She wanted him to stop, begged him to.  His fingers rubbed his clit.  “Bastard,” slipped out of her lips.  She couldn’t believe she’d said it.

He laughed.  “I thought you wanted me to rub your clit.  And didn’t you want to please me?  Did you think that would be easy?”  His voice was calm, like he was being the most reasonable man alive, discussing the electricity bill or the weather. 

He was none of that, he was a bastard.  She said it again.

Another wicked laugh.  “I want to see how hard you can come.  How hard you can come for me.  I want you to come like you’ve never come before.  Please me.”  The fingertips rubbed in a slow, wet circle, dancing with her clit. 

Every nerve ending was alive and screaming into her mind.  Yet her clit had been abused, suffered all of those edges, and it hadn’t had any relief.  The vibes were still going, no relief in either her ass or her snatch.  “Sir, may I, please?”

“Oh, now you want to come?  Wouldn’t a bastard stop now?”

“Oh, God, Sir, I can’t stop.  Please Sir, may I?  Please-please-please-please…”

“Would it be better if I stopped right now?  Started your edging again?  Wouldn’t that be a good way to start off a month without?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  “Oh God, no, please, I’m begging you.”  She was on the verge of tears, trying to hold it off.

“Come, my slut.  Now.  Come on my fingers.”

There was nothing like being told to come, being ordered to.  Another one ripped through her, more like the crazy-intense orgasms she was used to after he’d denied and teased her, the ones she craved.  God it was lovely, wonderful, like nothing else on earth.  Pure and heavenly.  

While she was still spasming, his fingers disappeared, which was a bit of a relief—she’d wondered if he was going to rub another out of her.  The vibe disappeared; she was so wet it spilled out of her and she heard him drop it to the floor.  Then she felt something else against the opening of her pussy.  She wanted it.  She arched her back, tried to spread her legs wider.  “Please, Sir.  Please put it in.  Please fuck me.  Fuck your slut hard.”

She felt his hands grip her waist.  He pushed his cock all the way in, one big slide until he was deep, pressing up against her sore bottom.  He slid out, then in, harder this time.  Bent over like she was, the head of his cock was rubbing against the same spot his fingers had found, which was super-fucking sensitive.  He fucked her hard, grunting, his hands holding her tight in place.  With the plug still vibrating and filling her ass, she felt so full with his cock inside her.  Her pussy and clit were still vibrating from her orgasms, and his cock felt so good.  She felt so owned, so helpless, so like his fuck toy, to be used however he wanted, used hard.  She loved it.   

“Fuck me Sir, fuck me harder.  Come in me, please, please come in me.  Fill me up with your come.”

She loved turning him on, with her body and with her words, loved feeling him respond to her, loved the feeling of him inside her, loved pleasing him.  And her pussy was still all nerve endings, fully alive and as wet as rain.  

It was a hard fucking, his body slamming into hers, moving the chair.  “Oh baby, your ass looks so good, with the plug and your red cheeks.  And your pussy is so damn wet.”

“Oh, yes, fuck me.  Fuck my snatch.  Please come in it.  Give it to me.”

He did.  His grip tightened at her hips, and he fucked her even harder, like he was the desperate one and hadn’t come in far too long.  “I’m coming.”  He came in her, hard by the sound of it, as he kept pumping.

“Sir, please, may I?”

“Come, my slut, come with me.  Now.  Or it will be a month.”

Why did having to go longer and longer without coming turn her on so damn much?  Though she didn’t understand it, it clearly did.  The thought pushed her over the edge, her fourth orgasm in minutes, and also her fourth in two weeks.  And still his cock pumped in and out of her, his body slapping against hers.  Finally, he was emptied, his come in all three of her holes.  That was ownership.

He collapsed on top of her, his body covering hers, his cock still in her snatch.  His breath was hot and ragged against the back of her neck, both of them breathing hard.  She felt a little stunned, a little in awe of what had just happened and the intensity of it.  And fuck it felt nice to have come.  

They stayed like that a long time, savoring the moment, a moment she didn’t want to end.  She felt owned, cared for, completely his.  

Perhaps three or four minutes later, his cock still in her, he reached down and started undoing her right wrist.  When he was done with both wrists, he gently pulled her up, held her tight against his body.  His soft cock slipped out.  None of her muscles were happy.  They all cried out, each vying to be the loudest, her calves, her thighs, her spanked ass, her shoulders, even the arches of her feet.  Her pussy and asshole were their own special kind of hurt.  It was a wicked soreness, one she liked.  As he untied the blindfold, he said, “Keep your eyes closed, things are going to seem crazy bright.”

He was right about that.  After much blinking, when she could see again, she turned her body, to look up at him and kiss him.  He said, “You’re smiling like a fool.  You enjoyed that.”

She realized she was smiling, couldn’t stop.  She nodded.  “I loved it.  You came in every one of my holes.  Owned each one.”

That made him smile and earned her a good kiss.  “You are amazing.  Such a good girl.  Super good girl.  My super girl.”  Then he whispered in her ear, “I’m very proud of you.”  That filled her heart, made it expand in her chest, like it wanted to burst.

One hand in the middle of her back, to make sure she didn't fall, held her in place as he bent down and untied her ankles.  The first step was the worst, and she would have fallen, but his strong arms were there.  He half carried her to the bathroom, sat her on the toilet as he ran a bath.  When he turned around, she was on her knees in front of him, her tongue and lips licking his cock clean.  That earned her another Good girl.

When she was done with her slut work, he helped her into the bath.  The hot water felt unbelievable to her skin, easing all the strained muscles.  He bathed her, taking his time, soaping down every inch of her body, whispering sweet nothings to her.  

It felt like heaven.  Her heaven.

###

The next morning, she woke up next to him, his body wrapped around her, warm and protective.  For once she hadn’t woken up first.  His cock had.  It was pushing through the sore lips of her pussy, pressing into her.  She moved her hips, arched her back, to open up wide for him.  

“Good morning, my slut.  Did you sleep well?”

She nodded.  She had.  

The night before, after the bath, they’d taken a nap, and didn’t wake up until nearly 9.  She wanted to cook for him, but he said it was too late, so they ordered delivery (which she admitted, with great reluctance, was good).  They’d watched a movie on the couch, like a normal couple, at least until she moved and some part of her body reminded her of all they’d done.  

His cock pushed deeper into her sore snatch.  She liked doing it side by side like this, but she wanted to look at him, to kiss him.  Knowing it might get her in trouble, she slipped off his cock and rolled over to face him.  After a kiss, she tried to get his cock back where it belonged, but facing each other on their sides didn’t work.  She felt odd and awkward until he rolled on his back and pulled her on top.  This felt weird, too—she wasn’t tied up or begging or enjoying a spanked ass, and she’d never been on top before.  But then his hands took her hips and pushed her back onto his cock.  She still felt owned.  

Self-consciously, she sat up, to see what it felt like.  It felt good.  Her hips started grinding, getting him deeper and deeper.

“Play with your clit,” he said, his voice as commanding as always.  Still grinding, she reached down, started to rub her clit, her other hand on his chest, supporting herself.   

“Feel good?”

She nodded.  “Very good.  It’s sore, but I like that.”

He chuckled.      

She asked, “Are you going to let me come?”  After she’d asked the question, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“Well….eventually.  Probably.”  That wicked chuckle followed, and she wanted to smack him, but, well, both her hands were busy.  

She said, “But I’ve been so good…”

“Yes you have.  But you also like being teased.  Being denied.  Being shown what an owned slut you are.”

His words, his teasing and the not knowing, was turning her on as much as her fingers and his cock.  Her breath was getting shallower and shallower.

“It’s like when I talk about making you go a month without, it always turns you on so much.  Drives you crazy.”

“No.  I couldn’t survive that.  It’s too long.”  Her words were shallow and raspy, betraying her, showing how turned on she was.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you could.  And it would please me.”

Those words did it, pushed her to the edge.  “Please, Sir, may I come?”

“No.”  He said it gently, like someone had asked him if he’d like more water.  His hand, also gently but insisting, took her hand away from her clit, lifted it up, so she could lick it clean.  

He said, “Climb off.  Lick my cock and balls clean.  Like a good slut.”

Her clit throbbing, she did, made sure she pleased him.  Damn his cock was a mess of her juices, and very hard.  After it was clean, he ordered her to climb back on, to grind and rub again.  She did, and eventually he said no again.

As she was sucking him clean yet again, she wondered how it had come to this, how such wickedness was now part of her.  Had it always been part of her, and he’d simply uncovered it?

Though her pussy had barely calmed down, she climbed back on top and used her hand to guide his hard cock back into her sore snatch.  He pulled her down, kissed her with his tongue as his cock filled her.  He guided her hand back under her body, to her clit.  She rubbed, like a good little slut.

Another kiss.  Then he asked, “Do you like my cock better in your pussy or your ass?”

She had to think about that.  “I love them both.  But maybe in my ass a tiny bit more.  It’s just so wicked.  So wrong.”  So dominating, she thought, but didn’t say.  

“Do you want it there now?”  She looked at him and nodded.  He smiled.  “Put it in your ass, then.”

She slid it out of her pussy, used her hand to put the head of it against her asshole.  It was still very sore, from all the use the day before.  

“Is it sore, baby?”

“Very.”

“But you still want it there?”

“Yes, Sir.”  

Her pussy had definitely made it wet enough, but the head felt so big.  She tried to keep breathing and pushed back.  The head of his cock spread her wide.  The soreness made it hurt, but she was giving herself to him, and she wanted it in her ass.  She pushed back, her asshole pushed even wider, then the head slid past her tight muscle.  She gasped.

“Damn, baby, that feels good.  So tight.”

Her fingers still touching his cock, she leaned back, feeling his cock slide deep inside her.  She didn’t stop until it was all the way in, her fingertips touching his balls.  

He ordered her to rub her clit, yet again.

She did, sitting on top, his cock buried deep, feeling like it was going to split her in half.  She stared at him as he watched her.  Occasionally she would lean down for a kiss.  He never said no to that.

She opened her mouth, to ask if he was going to let her come this time, but another question popped out.  “Has the month started?”  She couldn’t look at him then; she dreaded the answer.

“I don’t know.  Is that what you want?”

She couldn’t answer that.  She couldn’t lie nor say she wanted that.  But no one actually wants that, do they?  Was it just to please him??  It was like she was an onion and he was peeling her, exposing layer after layer.  She didn’t think there were any layers left.  

She was grinding her hips back and forth, moving his cock in her ass.  Her pussy was making a mess all over his stomach, and she knew she’d be cleaning that up soon enough.  How many more times would he edge her?  How many times would she be edged in a month?

“Sir, I’m close.”

“Well, come, then.  I want to see how it feels, you coming with my cock in your ass.  Make sure it’s a good one, or it will be six weeks, not just a month.”

She looked at him, not believing he was allowing her to come.  He nodded, a wicked smile on his face.  That’s what made all of the edges so wicked—every time, there was that tiny, tiny chance he would let her come.  That smallest bit of hope was what drove her crazy.  And, of course, his words—the six weeks—put her over the top.  She ground her hips deeper into him, moving his cock further in and out.

He reached up, lifted her chin so that she had to look into his eyes.  Then one fingertip slid over her lips.  She sucked it into her mouth, sucked on it as she came.  All she could think about, what filled her mind as she came, was going six weeks without.  The desperation she would feel.  How owned she would feel.  How pleased he would be with his little slut.  She came hard, his cock as far as it could go in her ass, his fingertip in her mouth.  She didn’t come quite as hard as the day before, but close.

As she was shuddering on top of him, he said, “Don’t stop.  I like how that feels.  Don’t stop rubbing that owned clit until I tell you to.  Don’t stop coming, either.”

His fingertip left her mouth.  She looked at him, stared into his eyes as she rubbed her very sensitive clit as lightly as she could.  His fingertip left a wet trail as it slid over her chin and down her neck.  It went across her chest and circled her left nipple.  Nothing on her entire body was as sore as her nipples.  He teased her, his finger getting closer and closer, then moving away.  She wanted it as she wondered how much it was going to hurt.  Instead his finger moved away.  His hand gently pushed into her hair, took hold of it and pulled her down.  She thought for a kiss, but instead his mouth moved to her nipple.  He kissed it.  She gasped.  He sucked it into his mouth, his tongue pushing it around.  Then he bit it.

She came.

She cried out, but his teeth didn’t let go.  His tongue flicked over the very tip of it.  He still didn’t let go, not until she was done coming, done spasming on top of him, her body a mess of nerve endings.  

His hands found her hips.  “Don’t you dare stop rubbing.  I want a third.”  His hands pulled her hips forward, then back, pushing his cock deep into her ass.  He started to fuck her.  She didn’t think she had a third in her, wasn’t sure she could again, but she damn sure wasn’t going to say that.  She was owned.  She came when she was told to.

“Where’s my cock at?”

“In my ass.”

“Only a slut would like that.  Do you like it?”

“Yes, Sir.  A lot.  I love it.  I’m a slut, Sir.  I’m your slut.”

“Yes you are.  My beautiful slut.”

“Will you spank me when we’re done?  I want my ass sore for the train ride.  Very sore.”

That turned them both on.  He smacked one cheek, then the other, waking up all of those nerve endings.  His hands started pushing her faster, back and forth on top of him, and she knew he was close.

“Sir, come in my ass.  It’s so sore.  Make it worse.  Show me you own me.  Make it sore for days.”  He liked that, fucking her harder.  “I want to feel your hot come in my ass.”

She moaned, an orgasm sneaking up on her.  “Please, Sir, may I come?  May I come with you?”

He nodded, mumbled a yes.  He cried out.  She thought she could feel his hot come spurt into her sore ass.  She came, her body clenching around his cock, making it feel even bigger.  It wasn’t the hardest orgasm of the weekend, but it was her favorite.    

####

The subway ticked-ticked-ticked over the tracks.  Exactly the opposite of Friday night’s train ride, this one was going by much too fast, as had the train ride from Brighton back to London Bridge.  She’d decided to ride the subway with him out to Heathrow, not wanting to part yet.  Not wanting to part at all, actually.  They sat next to each other in the half-full car, both of their bags sitting in front of them.  She clutched his hand tighter, and, perhaps sensing what she was feeling, he freed his hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.  She lifted her head and kissed him.  

He asked, “Did you enjoy the weekend?”

She smiled.  “Yes, very much so.”  Most of her body was still sore from her time over the chair, and every bump on the tracks reminded her of the medium plug in her ass.  Just before she dressed at the door, he’d had her bend over, spread her cheeks, lube her ass and push the plug in as he watched.  Despite the soreness, she did.  Her nipples were even worse, and he knew it, occasionally reaching inside her jacket to move her shirt against them.  Despite that, she was as happy as could be (or perhaps because of it?) and at the same time, dreading him leaving.  She asked, “Did you?”

“Incredibly so.  You are amazing, my dear.”  His kind words always made her heart feel good.    

Far, far too quickly, the Heathrow stop arrived.  Even though she’d be getting right back on, she exited with him.  After they walked through the airport, she waited with him as he checked his bag.  The security line didn’t look too bad, so they stopped and got a tea, a bottle of water, and a coffee at Caffe Nero.  

As they were sipping their drinks, he said, “Are you going to be a good girl while I’m gone?”

“Yes, Sir.  Aren’t I always?”

“Mostly, except when you try to sneak in a orgasm.”  She smiled at that, remembering it.  He said, “Don’t forget to write your lines.”

“Do I have to tonight?”

“Yes, of course.  Remember to make them pretty. I expect a nice pic of them by the time I get off the plane.”

“Yes, Sir.”  Weirdly, part of her was looking forward to being naked on the floor, writing her lines.  She still felt guilty about the whole thing.  

It didn't feel right sitting across from him.  She moved her chair, so she could hold his hand and be closer to him.  “I don’t want you to go.”  She said it before she’d thought about it, and instantly felt scared and exposed.  For the most part, they’d avoided talking about their feelings towards each other.

He said, “I know.  I wished you were coming with me.”  He smiled a bittersweet smile, then gave her a bittersweet kiss.  

The silence hung in the air for a moment, growing heavier, neither of them knowing what to say.  He checked his watch.  “It’s about that time, my love.”  

She wondered if he was using that word in the British way, or the American way.  Regardless, she liked it.  “I know.”  Still, she didn’t let go of his hand.  I am not going to cry. 

Clearly he could tell she was struggling.  Maybe he was too.  He did that thing, where he waited until she looked into his eyes, then he said, “It’s still very early in things, very fresh.  But if we still feel this way in a couple of months, then we’ll figure something out.  Okay?”  She nodded.  It didn’t really make her feel better, but she did like knowing he was feeling something like she was.  He said, “Maybe I’ll get a place in London, one that we can share.  What do you Brits call them, flats?”  

She stared at him, not really believing what he’d just said.  She took a sip, then put her cup back down.  Knowing him, it would be very nice and he would call it an ‘investment’ so he didn’t feel guilty about how much it was.  She said, “That would be...good.”  Her heart beat hard in her chest.  She liked the idea, dangerously so.

“We do still have some issues to figure out.”  

She smiled, then couldn’t help saying, “Like you being so old?”

He laughed, a good, loud, American laugh.  “Oh, my English girl gets brave at the end.  Where’s that bigger plug?”  Playfully, he reached for her bag.  She pushed him away from it, laughing.  He said, “Maybe it needs to be two months!”  They both laughed again, though her body responded to his comment, too.

Another look at his watch ended the laughter.  He was cutting it close.  He stood, pulled her up, gave her a five-star kiss.  Holding hands, they walked to the security entrance.  He gave her another great kiss.  

He whispered in her ear, “Be good, my slut.”  He licked her ear, which woke her pussy up even more, and squeezed her sore bottom.  Then he hugged her tight, her nipples complaining, but she wasn’t letting go, didn’t ever want to.  He asked, “Who owns you?”

Despite everything, that made her smile.  “You do, Sir.  You own all of me.”

“Are you happily owned?”

“Very.”  Another kiss.  She said, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”  Another of his bittersweet smiles.  He kissed her, took two steps away, then had to come back and kiss her again.

She watched him go through security.  At the end, after the x-ray, he turned around and blew her a kiss.  Then he was gone.  She brushed a tear away, then turned and walked away.  Before she took six steps, her phone buzzed with a text.  

Sir: Go to the nearest restroom and edge yourself twice.  Then 2 times when you get home, before you start your lines.  2 when you’ve finished them.  Please me, my slut.

She texted back:  Yes, Sir.

Her phone buzzed again:  Good girl.  Miss u.  Big kiss.

Her emotions were a giant swirl of happy and sad.  After a few deep breaths, she continued walking, back towards the Tube.  She saw a sign for a restroom, and followed it.  She was missing him bad but also feeling like the happily owned slut she was, wondering if it was going to be the longest month of her life.  

Author's Note:  This story, and all of the English Girl series, is dedicated to the English Girl.  Thank you for showing me your heart, and sharing it.  So beautiful and pure--no doubt, and quite the muse, too.