TRISH AND HER PROTEGE
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The Protege free porn video
The Prot?g?
By Virginia Malcolm
Chapter 1
Laura already knew she would like this sleepy little town. She had not
seen the rental house yet, not looked out over the lake from its deck,
not even picked up the key from the realtor. All it took to put that
satisfying cat-that-ate-the-canary smile back on her full, moist lips
was a quick stop at the town's general store. There she was ever so
taken care of by the young clerk, Robbie, a tall farm boy with that
freshly scrubbed look that Laura could eat up and swallow on the spot.
But she behaved herself. This month-long break from her city life was
to be all about restraint, reflection and planning for her future. That
didn't mean she didn't allow herself a few caressing strokes to her
crotch when young Robbie bent over in front of her to open the new case
of wine. Before long her taloned fingers would be hooking the belt
loops of his tight, faded jeans and urging his manhood towards its
destiny. For now, she was content to flirt, ask about the town, and
look forward to the special delivers her big farm boy would be making
each week.
The stop at the realtor's office would be next. She liked to keep these
short and to the point. She wasn't impolite, but neither did she want
to give the impression she was flirting or, God forbid, available. In
the other towns, she inevitably found the middle-aged agents to be far
more interested in her cleavage than in giving her any practical
information or what to do if something at the house needed repair. Of
course she would take dealing with these oafs over any overly ambitious
female agent. They tried too hard, were generally brighter, and
sometimes Laura almost felt that they knew, as impossible as this was
to believe. She was simply too good.
This time, there was also the considerable change in her persona to
adjust to. She had tried different looks, different story lines in the
other places, but this was quite the departure. What the hell! She was
in her early 30's now and tired of the old tricks. It had become far
too easy for her to establish herself as the mysterious new slut in
town. Duh. Let's see. Drive into town in the Vet or maybe the Z-3.
Strut into the local hangout in something very Lycra. Carefully slide
that ample but firm ass onto a barstool. Cross those expensively
nyloned legs, adjusting the unforgivingly tight skirt to accommodate
this exquisitely sensual glide that sent its electricity all the way up
to her throbbing organ. Then, order a drink, dangle her 5-inch fuck-me
pumps from her silk bound toes, perch a long, slender cigarette near
the end of her inch long nails, and wait.
The pick up babble always followed the same general pattern: Oh, hi.
Sure, you can buy me a drink. No, not from around here. Just up here
for the month. Oh, you know, just some problems I wanted to get away
from. No, I really don't want to talk about it. (Then wait for the
pause to become uncomfortable before continuing). But I could really go
for just a little friendly company. Having captured her first pawn, the
show would begin. Feigning giggly exuberance at the stupidest jokes.
Dropping things 'accidentally' to give everyone in the room a better
view. Swishing off towards the little girl's room to size up prospects
for later in the week and get a look at her competition (there never
was any). Then, the inevitable; I can't drive home like this, I'm a
mess. Could you please, pretty please, just get me to my door? But not
before one last trip to the back of the bar to rake her claws over the
bulge of her next stud and whisper, tomorrow night you're mine.
Sure, the sex was always amazing. Entertaining as well. Especially when
these he-men realized they were in way over their heads. Laura would be
satisfied in oh so many ways before their engorged fuck-rods were
allowed any relief. That of course was on a night when she was feeling
girly and perhaps just a little vulnerable. Even a self-made goddess
like herself sometimes just needed a thick cock firmly planted inside
her. On her naughtier nights, they were lucky to leave with a raw ass
and shredded dignity. But the beauty was that there was always another
cock with a man attached to it waiting to drive her home the next
night.
Some weeks before embarking on this most recent project, Laura found
herself needing to re-tool her image once again. This time would be
different though, at least it would start out different. Because this
time, there would be no need for additional amplification of her
already perfect body at the gifted hands of her surgeon, Dr. Kronce. A
lavish re-haul of her wardrobe or shoes or wigs was also uncalled for.
The beauty of this transformation was in its objective to downplay her
many sensual and erotic attributes. A quick visit to Pierre's should do
the trick.
"Make me drab, Dear." That's the first thing she said to Pierre when
she walked into his salon for her appointment. He had cleared his own
schedule and that of both his color girl, Sandy and Clyde, his makeup
specialist for the entire day. Laura, however, was confident that this
degree of pampering would be unnecessary this time.
"Pierre, you do amazing things," Laura said exchanging pecks on each
cheek, "but I really want to try to go with what I have here."
"The auburn pageboy?" Pierre asked doubtfully swinging an accusing
finger towards her head.
"No, dear," Laura explained, pulling off the wig to reveal the shoulder
length hair she had hurriedly crammed underneath. "I want you to work
with my 'natural looks' this time. I mean, no extenders, no wigs, no
exotic tints or dyes. Maybe a rinse or quiet blond shade to give me a
gentle sunkist look. I know, I know. Not exactly me. Just do it you
little man or else!"
Pierre knew better than to push it too far with Laura. Beautiful beyond
belief, untouchable but to the most privileged, gracious to her dearest
friends, but deadly if crossed or detoured from her objectives in any
way. Besides, she alone accounted for a sizable amount of his revenue,
had the undying respect of most in this district of the city, and
brought even more in the way of referred business his way. Still he
needed to a little more information.
"Honey, we can do gentler, softer, all that. But only to a point. I was
thinking maybe a little corny, but we could do a Farrah Fawcett thing.
You know, a loose wave, long layering, off centered part. We could
leave the full bangs to soften your features a bit."
"That sounds wonderful," Laura said, turning her head from side to side
in front of the mirror as Pierre molded the longer strands around her
face, "but, remember the shade should be something subtle. Think
country girl. Innocent. You know."
At this, Pierre, could no longer control himself. He held the back of
his hand over his mouth in an attempt to suppress the giggles as he
buckled over, scissors in hand.
"Laura, dear, country girl with no eyebrows, permanent eye makeup and
enough collagen in your lips for two Steven Tyler's?
"Pierre, please," Laura said a little more firmly than she had
intended, "I am trusting you to do this right. I'm sure Clyde can teach
how to hide some of the more dramatic affects. It will be fine. It
needs to be fine."
Four hours later, she left with what she needed. A soft, manageable
cut, some tips on makeup, and some suggestions for easy color
coordination in her wardrobe. She already knew she wanted to lower her
hemline, wear mainly cotton, show less cleavage, maybe not even wear
stockings most the time although this last thought left her feeling
particularly exposed. Dresses would need to hang, not cling ? a real
challenge for the exhibitionist in her. Her waist after several
operations to remove ribs, liposuction, and years of regular corset
training would forever be 22 inches. She could also do little but
under-emphasize or cover her incredible 38D cups. She was not giving
these babies up, not even for this scheme.
Now, after the transformation, the relaxing time in the Florida sun,
and the securing of her business in New York, she was ready for her
next great performance. Call it maturity, she wasn't sure what it was.
She just knew she wanted to bring away something more tangible, more
lasting, from this conquest. Sure, she would ultimately get what she
wanted, but she was also prepared to give a little, too, if the
opportunity presented itself.
Chapter 2
"Oh, you must be Ms. Lund," the realtor stammered, leaving his desk, a
half eaten sandwich, and the magazine he was reading. The not
unattractive but soft-bellied man quickly brushed off the crumbs that
had gathered in his lap before extending a hand.
"Stan Fuller," he began, "we spoke on the phone a few times. You're
from New York, right?"
"That's right," Laura kept her tone even, light, "I teach school
there."
"You don't seem like a city gal," he ventured as he shuffled papers
around on his desk looking for her keys and contract. This task was
made that much more difficult by the fact that he never took his eyes
off the saffron sun dress with it's thin straps and low front
showcasing just the beginning of her tanned and sparsely freckled
breasts.
"Well, I've had some time to vacation in Miami since school finished,"
which was at least partially true. One of her homes was in Miami. From
there she had made the arrangements for her getaway and the most recent
edition of her metamorphosis. "And I am originally from the Midwest,"
she continued.
"Oohhh, I see," was all he could manage as the shuffling continued. Oh,
God, she thought. And to think, this is meant to be subtle. Oh, well.
She crossed her arms just under her breast and leaned across the
counter.
"Could I help. It's just that I'd like to get settled in and make some
calls before it gets much later."
"No. No, it's right here," he proudly announced sliding the contract
paperclipped to a large manila envelope across the counter to Laura.
Her breasts now rested on the cold Formica as she pretended to read
every sentence in the contract. Why not give Mr. Fuller something to do
in the bathroom after I leave, she thought. She leaned just a little
lower onto the counter allowing one of her straps to slip from her
shoulder.
"Oops," Laura looked up apologetically as she repositioned the strap
with her long, but unpainted French-cut nails. And then, catching his
gaze a moment longer tucked some strands of hair behind her ear. Too
much she wondered? God, she must be hornier than she thought. She could
take breadcrumb Stan right now in the back room, slide down onto
whatever he had to offer, tear his flesh in a way that could not be
explained away to Mrs. Fuller. No, she reminded herself, this trip was
supposed to be different. There would be plenty of time for fun and
games later. And as if to drive this point home, she heard the door
buzzer go off behind her. Without looking to see who came in, she
finished the business of signing the contract with no further fanfare.
Show over with a few dramatic swirls of her hand across the paper.
"Paul, you're here early," Stan Fuller said somewhat rigidly. "They
must have let you out early again. Damn school, don't know what I'm
paying good tax money for."
"Dad, this summer program always gets out early on Fridays. Remember?
This counts as part of my work-study credits," the diminutive young man
said while looking neither directly at Laura nor his father.
"Crazy system if you ask me," Stan continued and then looked at Laura
as if maybe she would understand, "18 years old. A senior ready to go
out into the world. Excuse my French, but doesn't have a God Damned
idea what he's going to do. Then they throw together this 'preparing
for the real world' program at the last minute and expect that I'm
going to be supervising my own son"
Laura knew she needed to get out of this quickly. She extended her arm
towards Paul, her ring bracelets clanking as their hands met. "I'm
Laura Lund. Your name is Paul?"
"Oh, sorry," Stan changed his tact, "Ms. Lund. Yes. This is my son
Paul. He helps me here at the office. And finally, now that he has his
license, he can also do small jobs, errands, etc. it you need any help
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." Paul was still motionless as Laura
put her hand on the door to leave. Ready to distance herself from this
restrictive web of proper Miss Teacher, she had one parting thought.
"You know, being a teacher, I am always interested in hearing about
other methods of learning and preparing our youth for life after the
classroom. If it's all right with you Mr. Fuller, perhaps Paul could
come over tomorrow and share some more information with me. I might
have some ideas for him, too."
Laura looked at Paul not really expecting a response, but trying to be
polite nonetheless. It was Stan, of course, who answered.
"I'll have him over there first thing in the morning Miss if you like."
"Late afternoon would be much better for me," Laura smiled, "I've
really been enjoying rising late this summer." The truth being she had
never been one to rise much before noon. "Will that work for you dear?"
and she looked directly at Paul.
"Yes," he said softly before lowering his head again.
Finally out in her car again Laura was tired, but excited. She allowed
herself a cigarette once out of town, something she had told herself
did not fit her sweet school teacher portrayal. But she always thought
better with a cigarette balancing in her lovely fingers or pressed
between her welcoming lips. And now, another piece of her plan was
coming together.
Chapter 3
More time to think as she lugged in her bags, started some dinner and
sipped wine out on the deck. The house would be perfect. Secluded,
large, and while rustic in some ways, with all the necessary
conveniences. Not overly done, the bedroom did have full mirrors across
the entire length of the walk in dressing room. And even above the
master bed! That was a plus she wasn't expecting. For as much as Laura
lived for sex, exciting sex, all kinds of sex with gorgeous men and
sometimes exotic and tantalizing other women, she possessed everything
she needed to arouse herself to climax after climax again and again.
After the 14 suitcases were brought up and most of her clothes, shoes,
makeup, and various toys were put away, she plopped down on the bed
with a deep satisfying sigh. This is where I will take and be taken;
where I will fuck and be fucked. The wry smile returned as she closed
her eyes for a moment to savor the possibilities. The next moment was
first alarming and stimulating. Before her eyes, reflected back at her
from the ceiling lay an innocent young woman wearing a soft patterned
cotton dress, with bare tanned legs and simple 2-inch sandals kicked
off to the side. This delayed acceptance of her new form had happened
to her after other transformations, too. The narcissistic attraction
was still there as usual, just somewhat muted along with her looks. It
was as if to say, she's not really my type. And yet, Laura knew this
disarmingly subtle appearance (at least by her standards) would be
necessary for her to gain the trust of those in the town and ultimately
pull off this little adventure.
"You sweet thing," she mouthed to her image. "You don't look like
you're from the city," she flirted. And as the smile returned, she
found herself placing a hand on the inside of each warm and trembling
thigh. The tips of her nails gently combed the sensitive skin raising
Goosebumps in their path. That's enough, she told herself even as her
hands moved slowly closer to the warmth of her securely harnessed
mound. Yes, tightly bound this sexuality of hers in an especially snug
G-string. Even with the schoolmarm look, she had to keep the ultimate
manifestation of her libido at bay ? perhaps more so than usual. Laura
please stop, the image pleaded. There will be time to take me later.
But you're mine, Laura asserted. Not my usual flavor, true, but so well
crafted, so well presented, and so, so fuckable.
The evening had thus far been unremarkable. A light meal followed by a
walk near the water's edge and then a quick inventory of her
belongings. She felt comforted by the touch of the lacy lingerie, the
exhilarating texture of her leather and rubber outfits, and the myriad
of possible looks accomplished with the simple yet expert application
of her make up. Erotic, satisfying, intoxicating. The real power rested
in their ability to fetch for Laura anything she wanted in life.
Her 7-inch platform boots called to her. Classic black pumps waited
beneath a Jackie O evening gown. Standing in the doorway of the
dressing area, she took one last drag on her cigarette before walking
over to select a cream colored teddy to sleep in. She could indulge
herself just this little bit without slipping out of her Plain-Jane
character.
And so she convinced herself for all of the 5 minutes it took her to
smoke another cigarette on the edge of the bed. Her crossed legs
suddenly felt bare. Her magnificent breasts demanded to be idolized,
resting atop one of her sexy corsets. And oh how she worried about her
waistline without its daily cinching. God, she begged. I wouldn't even
bring him here. In his car would do. A quickie.
Her unpainted lips became wet with the thought of a cock buried deep in
her throat. She needed to taste cum. Needed to swallow the cum of this
place as if getting use to the local drinking water. Her left hand
began to massage the G-string as she continued to hold her cigarette up
to her mouth with her other, sucking on it deeply.
The corset was on in no time. Not as tight as she might like, but
restricting enough, that she had a little difficulty pulling the smoke
colored stockings on and fastening them to the garter belt. She pulled
up a rubber mini and slipped on a long sleeve sheer top that would give
a fine view of her expensive bust. Black 6-inch platform pumps with a
simple strap would do. A quick removal of the makeup hiding her deeply
accented eyes, redefining her brows in a darker and more dramatic
fashion, some blush on her cheeks, and spreading the deep crimson to
every corner of her luscious lips. An ash "Pretty Woman" hooker wig
over her farm girl do, a small mesh purse, and Laura was almost running
to the car.
In the fifteen-minute drive to Plymouth, the largest town near
Randolph, Laura almost talked herself out of going through with her
compulsion several times. All this for, what, five, maybe ten minutes
of humping in the back seat of someone's car? Maybe she would just go
in for a drink. See what the place was like. She thought she remembered
a nightclub/bar on her way through earlier that day. Of course she had.
She had noted exactly where her type of place might be. Old habits die
hard.
Turning off the ignition, she got out and began walking towards the
bars. God if felt great to be back in heels, especially heels that
allowed to her stand face to face with most men if not tower above
them. A little self conscious at her accentuated curves and heightened
horniness, she pulled at the micro mini, trying to make it just a tad
bit longer.
"Gin and Tonic," she commanded once inside, opening her purse for her
cigarettes. The familiar planting of that tasty ass on the stool, the
legs crossing while the heels began to flick about like a cat's tail.
All the eyes in the place on her. Cigarette to her lips for an extra
dramatic long drag. And Bingo, a young gent ordering beers for his girl
and him decides to stand right next to Laura while he waits for the
bartender. Just look ahead. Play it out, Laura. Besides you can see him
in the mirror looking down at your nipples, getting a head full of your
perfume.
"Supposed to be cooler tomorrow," Tom warned, at least Laura thought
his name was Tom. She didn't really didn't need a name once she was
sucking his cock in the bathroom stall at the back of the dark bar or
later fucking his brains out in his Chevy truck behind that fine
establishment. He left his girl with her sister and her date under the
guise of helping Laura pump up the air in a tire that was going flat.
And the sweet thing might have even believed that. Although Laura
really didn't care. She wanted cock, and she was going to get cock.
"Hey, honey," Laura cooed, pressing one of her nails against Tom's lips
as she straddled him in the cab of the truck, "I have just a little
favor to ask you and I hope you don't mind." Laura winced slightly for
affect before continuing.
"I was hoping if you didn't mind too much that you could fuck me up the
ass," still with the baby-doll cutesy talk, "Could you do that for me?"
Tom who had frozen with his jeans pulled down mid thighs to listen
exclaimed, "Why hell, yes!" before continuing to free his rod. And the
darkness of the truck cab was the perfect place for Laura to give
herself an extra special little reward for being such a good girl.
Tom's girlfriend would be finding quite the sticky mess when she
returned later.
Laura for her part put herself back together in no time, demanding her
instant lover provider her with something to clean off with and then
dispose of. It there ever were a next time, Laura would have Tom well
primed.
"God that was amazing," he managed afterwards in the parking lot as
Laura lit another cigarette. "Uh, how long are you around here for?"
"Sweetie, don't count on it happening, OK?" Laura had shifted her
energy back from sex crazed vixen to don't-screw-with-me bitch in
rubber and heels. "Don't you think you should get back in there
handsome?" she directed as she flicked her nails and ashes towards the
bar door.
Still a bit stunned, Tom nodded, began walking away, and then turned
once more before re-entering the bar. Laura had got what she came for,
but at what price. This was too small an area to be burning bridges
this quickly. She had to get back to the original plan and fast.
Crushing the cigarette butt into the pavement some 6 inches beneath the
base of her heel, she took a few shallow breaths before voiding her
lungs of all air. In the precious seconds that ensued, she expertly
reached for the drawstrings of the corset, pulled them as tightly as
possible and then tied them securely for the ride home. If she were
expected to behave herself back in Randolph, she could at least
experience this all-controlling presence full tilt for another 15
minutes. Her unquenchable thirst temporarily satiated, she could now
sleep well and wake refreshed for her visitor tomorrow afternoon.
TO BE CONTINUED
Lianne
- 27.07.2020
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