ENGLISH COMPOSITION
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A Very English Weekend free porn video
A Very English Weekend
Chapter 1
Accidental Submission
Walking along the narrow lanes of Cambridge on a warm day in late
spring, mingling with the academics and tourists, I'm coming to meet you
for the first time. I know little about you, except that you are a Dom
who likes to spank girls, and seem to be well educated. I was careful
choosing what to wear today, wanting to look classy yet available, smart
yet blend in.
I had a full body wax a couple of days ago, long enough for the redness
to subside, and a manicure and pedicure this morning with a deep red
polish. I had cleaned myself inside, then bathed with a scented bath oil
to soften my skin. I reached behind my back to clip the beautiful
Chantelle Bra in pale pink, peach and brown silk and lace, adjusted my
breasts in the cups, regretting it but finally deciding to add a pair of
boosters to make my cleavage more impressive. I then reached between my
legs and carefully tucked away my balls before using a couple of drops
of superglue to keep my small penis hidden away, then pulled up the
matching knickers. Looking at my vanity I saw my jewelled chrome plug
and after adding some lube I pulled the knickers aside and pushed it in.
I hooked the suspender belt around my waist and tucked the straps
through my knickers before rolling the nude, seamed, lace top stockings
up my legs and clipping them to the straps. I slid on a pink silk
blouse, just transparent enough to see the lace of my bra, then stepped
into a beautifully cut floral cotton skirt, light, tight at the waist,
gently flared and finishing a couple of inches above the knee. My makeup
is light for daytime, yet with dark red lips to match my nails, and dark
eyeliner and mascara. Slipping on my 4 inch nude heels I am ready.
I had enjoyed the walk through the colleges and attracting the glances
of academics and students alike. I had long since got past the worry of
whether they were trying to work out if I was "real" and realised most
were simply thinking about fucking me.
The narrow lane I am now on ends at a bridge over the Cam and I turn
left along the bank: there are several pubs and I go to the third and
sit at a table outside, as agreed. I wonder what you will be like and
what this spring afternoon holds, as I sip a glass of chilled Chablis,
my legs crossed, only showing my stocking tops in the occasional light
breeze.
Each time a gentleman walks to the pub I try to work out it is you. I've
seen no photograph, just a couple of extremely erotic pencil sketches of
your preferences. I know you are several years older than me, perhaps 10
years, so are likely grey-haired. I imagine whether each of these men
would have set up a date like this? Whether they will approach me with
the confidence of one who knows that he will be able to have me. and
will simply need to decide when and how. I feel my face flushing and my
nipples hardening. I realise this blouse is slightly more transparent
than I had thought while getting dressed. The light breeze is also
making sure that I need to keep a check on my skirt to avoid my stocking
tops being on permanent display.
I've been sitting here quite a while. A man approaches the table; he is
wearing a well-cut dark grey suit, slightly older than I was expecting,
but these things can be deceptive. He asks If I am alone, and I explain
that I am waiting for someone. I'm not sure if this is you. I play
slightly too much with my hair, lick my lips just a little too often:
I'm acutely aware of the way my very erect nipples are showing through
my thin silk blouse. All the time the gentleman is chatting to me. I
have finished my drink and he asks if I'd like another. I thank him
"Chablis please."
He asks if I'd like the Premier Cru. I answer that I'm not convinced
they have that by the glass, smiling.
He returns with two glasses and a bottle of Premier Cru in an ice
bucket. "Great taste in wine," he says, explaining that he will join me,
at least until my friend arrives. I'm still not sure if this is you.
I notice that he attentively refills my glass, so I really don't know
how many glasses I've had, but it's turned into a very warm afternoon,
and I'm relaxed. I realise that the breeze has occasionally offered him
more of a view than intended. but by now I am assuming it is you.
As I notice we are close to the end of the bottle he asks me, "If I gave
you a million pounds, would you spend the afternoon in my bed?"
I laugh, knowing he won't offer me a million pounds, but of course I
would.
Then he said, "And how about if I offered you ?5?"
I laughed again, and said of course not, what does he think I am?
"We have already established that you are a whore, now we are just
settling on the price."
He says it clearly, simply and undeniably.
"So what is your real price?"
I'm no longer sure it is you.
"OK. so we've established you are a whore. but that ?5 is too cheap. Let
me get another bottle of this exquisite Chablis while you think about
that"
I am speechless as he goes into the pub. Should I get up and leave. Is
that you? Is it more enticing if it is you or if it isn't? The wine I
had already drunk is making me relaxed, but also making my thoughts a
little fuzzy. I take longer than intended and I'm still here when he
returns.
"I'm pleased to see you are still here," he says, pouring each of us a
glass of wine.
"I don't think that you have thought of a price, because I think you
have been questioning my logic. That means that the price is irrelevant,
it is simply symbolic, so I think that you should accept the ?5."
He raises his glass in a toast. I meet his toast.
"Don't say anything. I think you should go to the lavatory now and if
you accept that your price is ?5 then remove your knickers and when you
get back to the table pass them to me."
I stand up carefully, and make my way into the pub, I don't have a clue
what I'm going to do. I find the Ladies loo and go into a cubicle. I
lift my skirt, lower my knickers and sit down. I'm still not sure if
it's you, and still not sure if I mind. I drop my knickers down to my
ankles and slide them over my heels. I ball them up into my hand, the
light silk and lace taking no space at all. As I walk back through the
pub I can sense the increased breeze around my arse. I get back to the
table and sit carefully. He holds out his hand and I reach across and
place the small delicate ball, worth almost ten times the ?5 that I am
apparently worth, in the palm of his hand.
"Good. Now I think you need to look slightly more the part. That blouse
is stunning, but it will look so much better once you have undone
another two buttons."
I comply.
"Good girl Now I'm sure you know how to remove your brassiere without
taking off your blouse? Yes? Good."
I reach behind me and quickly open the hooks and drop the straps over my
hands, then through my now more open blouse I easily pull it through and
hand it to him. I manage to catch the two chicken fillets before I hand
it over. The transparency of my blouse now almost exaggerates my erect
nipples.
I assume it is now time to go, but he pours us both another glass of
Chablis.
"There's no rush, my dear. At ?5 I can afford your service for some time
and I'm enjoying the way the others are admiring you. Let us enjoy this
bottle before we go."
I study him carefully, this man who had just bought my company for the
evening, and possibly longer. Was this the dominant man I had been
chatting to from collarspace? He should be 60 years old, yet this man
was probably closer to 70. He had said he would be here at 1:00 pm yet
this man had wandered up around 1:30. He apparently lived in St Albans,
yet this man has a house close to the centre of Cambridge. But he has
sensed my submission. And he has my bra and knickers in his pocket,
underwear I had bought especially for this meeting, costing almost ?150.
If he is not you, does he know what to expect between my legs?
"You do look quite divine, my dear, and let me tell you that I do so
enjoy the way your nipples are so hard and so obvious. So beautiful, and
now the way you are blushing; how do you feel to be sitting there almost
naked and so obviously about to be taken to bed by a man you have only
just met, one who is considerably older but who now owns you and who
bought you for next to nothing? There's no need to answer, dear, I know
that it is turning you on immeasurably. Not only are your nipples hard,
by the way, I saw you slip away your enhancers, but I assure you your
breasts look perfect without them. Through your almost transparent
blouse I can tell your areolas are flushed, like your neck: I can assume
that your pussy is wet too."
With that last comment I know that this is not you, but a complete
stranger. I don't know if that turns me on more, or less. I do know that
it means he may be angry when he finds out I have a cock instead of a
pussy. Does this mean I am in danger? I enjoy another sip of the wine
that was probably not a good idea in the first place. I look around:
there are students and tourists punting on the river, people milling
around, businessmen and women in a hurry. Some, but few, looking over at
the well-dressed couple, the older gentleman, possibly with his PA, or a
client. maybe some assumed he was my client. I guess they are right now.
"Now, we don't have too far to walk, and even though you may be just a
little unsteady I do so enjoy walking through the city, don't you?
Especially when I have such a delectable companion. I know you will be
embarrassed because your tits will bounce gently, and you chose to wear
a blouse today that covers very little. That combined with the "clack"
those lovely heels are going to make are sure to draw the eyes of both
men and women. You are clearly slightly inebriated, so people will
wonder at that in the afternoon. I know it may sound cruel, but this
will heighten my enjoyment. Shall we go?"
He stands and comes round to offer me his hand. I stand, slightly
uncertainly, and take his hand. With my heels I am about the same height
as him but I still feel slight in comparison. Partly this is probably
because, now standing, I am more aware of how exposed I look. I am aware
that this beautiful skirt needs care when moving. He knows I am wearing
stockings and suspenders: he made no secret of enjoying the view when we
were seated. He puts his hand around my waist and steers me back through
the colleges toward the city centre. As he promised, I am acutely aware
of the men openly looking at me and the women too, some with desire,
some with disdain. Occasionally he drops his hand to cup my arse. All
the time I wonder if you are watching, enjoying what you have
involuntarily set up.
We arrive finally at a beautiful Regency town house; he opens the door
for me. I go in first and without closing the door, he pushes me against
the wall and kisses me deeply. People passing look on as he pulls my
blouse open and kisses, then lightly bites my nipples. I shiver as I
feel his hand slide up my leg, past my stocking tops to cup my arse. He
reaches out with one leg to slam the door closed.
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