A Very English Weekend Parts 3
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A Very English Weekend Part 6 free porn video
A Very English Weekend
Chapter 6
An Evening of Convergence
"It's still early, shall we go for a drink?" asks Mike. Jennifer and Sir
immediately agree. I keep quiet, other than the occasional moan when
Jennifer, who has slipped my pale pink blouse off, finds a particularly
sensitive spot, most often my nipples. There is a brief discussion
between Sir and Mike before they agree on where we are going, and the
large car turns towards the city centre. I am grateful for the dark
windows as we make our way through the city traffic, while Jennifer
ensures I stay both turned on and half naked. Presently we pull up in
one of the side streets, close to where I was sitting drinking on my own
only yesterday lunchtime.
Sir opens the door to me, and picks up and hands me my blouse.
"You should probably put this back on now, stephanie, but not your bra"
Then looking at Jennifer, he carries on.
"By the way, I noticed that you are wearing quite exquisite lingerie my
dear, please leave your bra and knickers here"
"Oh... yes Sir" she responds, blushing slightly but without a seconds
pause she removes her bra through the armhole of her dress and drops her
knickers to her ankles, picks them up and puts them next to her bra on
the car seat.
"Shall we go?" Sir asks, gesturing to us to link our arms with him, one
each side, with Mike walking at Jennifer's side. We are an obvious sight
and people are clearly looking at us. I'm not surprised: Jennifer is
slightly older than me but beautiful. I am not vain enough to call
myself beautiful, although others have said that I am, but I am
elegantly dressed, and my tits as good as naked, with marks from both
the flogging I have recently received as well as teeth marks and love
bites visible. Men seem to be drooling.
We go along the same alley to the same bridge, and walk to the same pub
as I came to yesterday. I think about how much has changed in that short
24 hours. We even sit next to the same table in the evening sun. Sir
orders a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape and a bottle of Premier Cru
Chablis and four glasses. Sir and Jennifer share the full red wine, Mike
has a small glass of the Chablis explaining that he is driving. Sir
ensures I enjoy the rest of the bottle. I am feeling just slightly fuzzy
when Sir tells Jennifer to put my clamps back on, but I am no longer
surprised that she simply opens my blouse in public, clamps my nipples
and closes my blouse over them, much to the astonishment of the group of
young men sitting at the table next to us. Yesterday I would have died
of embarrassment, although even then I was in no way shy.
"stephanie, please go into the bar and ask if they have rooms for the
night"
I hesitate briefly, realising that I look like an escort, and that
asking for a room is likely to draw attention to me.
"Now, stephanie"
"Yes Sir"
Standing up I feel the effect wine is having, but luckily it is also
slightly numbing me to the looks I am drawing. It is a beautiful sunny
evening and the rays pierce the diaphanous silk as if it were gossamer,
glinting off the silver clamps that are so obviously on my erect
nipples,. Entering the bar a woman standing beside the door looks at me
with utter disdain. I realise I have seen her before, but she does not
seem to recognize me. I realise what a dangerous game I am playing.
Whilst I am not a regular at this bar, I probably come here every few
weeks, especially over the summer. I go the end of the bar closest to
the door and call the barman over. I realise that several men are
looking at me, mostly at my tits. The barman says that he can't help me,
that I should go and see the landlady at the other side of the bar.
Walking through the group of customers standing chatting, I hold my head
high and start to walk over to the landlady. I get to the group of men
and politely ask to go past. They part to let me through, but ensure
that I walk right through the centre of the group, and I feel at least
four hands on my still tender derriere. I get to where the landlady is.
I don't need to attract her attention. I already have it.
"Excuse me please, but I would like to know if you have any rooms
available?"
"Honestly love, I don't, and if I did I would be concerned about having
you as a guest"
"Of course, thank you for letting me know"
I know this is all I need to do, and want to get back to my group
outside.
"What's your name? Haven't I seen you here before?"
The landlady is exploring every detail of the marks on my body with her
eyes as she asks.
"Errrr, my name is stephanie, I have been here a few times before, but
not dressed like this" my voice trails off somewhat.
"Well look, give me your number, because although I wouldn't rent a room
to you, sometimes I need the names of girls I can call up. But if I do,
you would need to be properly dressed, OK?"
"Er, of course, my number is 07896942747.... Thank you"
She puts my number straight into her phone and tries it, checking I'd
given her the right number. I guess.
"Oh by the way, love, you handled those blokes pretty well, I'm sure
they didn't keep their hands to themselves... but please don't draw
attention to it? Thanks"
With that, it is clear that the conversation was finished.
I head back towards the terrace and know I have to go back through the
same group of men, who this time again let me into the centre, but as I
get there, one of them makes a comment about joining them for a drink. I
try to decline, but remembering what the landlady had said I accept, but
explain that I have to let my companions know. One of the guys calls the
barman over.
"Can you let this girl's friends know that she is having a quick drink
with us before she goes back?"
Laughing, the barman agrees and brings over a large glass of white wine.
"I think this is what she's drinking" he laughs.
I am now in the centre of the group and I can feel one set of hands on
my bum, another touching my arm, and others dangerously close to my
breasts.
"So love, what's your name?"
"stephanie"
"Alright Steffie, so how come we haven't seen you here before?" he says,
laughing, not waiting for a reply.
I do my best to avoid them pulling my skirt up or touching up my tits
while I sip at the wine, and answer their questions about the nipple
clamps, about the numerous love bites, about being so exposed in the
middle of the day. Finally, after I finish the wine I make my excuses,
but not before they get my phone number, and check it, and they all feel
up my bum and as close as they dare to my tits. Rather more unsteadily I
head back out to my companions.
The bar is starting to fill up with the evening trade, and the same
woman is standing by the door, now with a group of friends, whom I also
recognise but luckily don't know. I hear the words tart and slut in
their conversation as I go past.
Going outside, the sun is setting and the air is noticeably cooler,
although there is no effect likely on my nipples which are numb from the
clamps having been on them for so long. I make my way through the
growing number of people who are here for an evening drink. I'm somewhat
relieved that the falling light makes me slightly less obviously half
naked. Still, there are plenty of men and girls looking as I go past.
Getting back to the table Sir looks at me smiling.
"I understand that you were bought a drink in the bar?"
"Yes Sir"
"And did you find out if they have rooms for the night"
"I did Sir. Unfortunately they are fully booked Sir"
"Pity"
I explain what had happened and also that I had needed to give my phone
number to both the landlady and the men who had bought me a drink. He is
pleased, happy that, as far as he is concerned, I am building up a few
potential clients. I am not sure, and starting to look forward to
getting back to my flat to release my cock from its glued tuck, and to
considering how I move on from this weekend.
Jennifer's elegant finger on the button of my blouse breaks my train of
thought. I look at Sir with a look, probably of terror, and he simply
raises his finger to his lips in a sign to be quiet. At the same moment
Jennifer pulls the chain and there is a moment of searing pain followed
by the intense ache as the feeling returns to my nipples. I double up
with the intensity of the pain and dig my long red nails into my palms
and bite my lip, all to keep quiet. As I slowly sit back up Sir
compliments my silence. Jennifer is smiling at me and leaving my blouse
she leans towards me and kisses me deeply on the lips, much to the
enjoyment of the guys still sitting at the table next to us. She leans
round and whispers in my ear.
"I think the guys next to us are enjoying the show. I'm going to carry
on and you are going to let me... OK?"
I nod imperceptibly. I feel her soft lips on mine again and part my lips
to allow her tongue in. I feel her hands resting on my hips. She moves
her hands to my back and pulls me closer as she feasts on me. My right
side is closest to the table next to us and I feel her left hand move to
my side, then cup my breast. Her thumb teases my so recently tortured
nipple. Her lips leave my mouth and start to kiss their way down my
white neck. I'm thankful of the increasing darkness as she brushes my
blouse aside to kiss my nipple, now also cupping my left breast with her
other hand before lifting her head again, kissing me lightly on the
lips, the cheek, the lips, then gently sits back. I relax, and carefully
pull my blouse closed again.
"Leave it" Sir says. I suddenly realise he has also been watching
intently. "I believe our neighbours are enjoying the show"
"Yes Sir" I respond immediately, leaving it to hang loosely past my
breasts.
"I see they are smoking, stephanie. I suggest you ask them if they have
a spare cigarette. They will no doubt try and get you talking. You are
to talk with them; if they invite you to join them, you are to join
them. If they ask for your number, you are to give it to them. You are
only permitted to close your blouse if they turn on the lights here on
the river bank, which they don't usually do for another hour or so
"Yes Sir. I don't smoke Sir"
"You do now"
"Yes Sir"
Nervously, I turn slightly to see who is at the table at the moment. I'd
been trying to shut them out but realise I will now have to speak with
them. Glancing down I realise that while my blouse is loose and undone
to the waist it is somewhat closed and although I never would go out
with my blouse so undone, it would be possible. Slightly relieved, I
turn towards the guy closest to me. He is probably about 25, as are his
friends, too old to be students. They are all wearing the uniform of the
smart young men around here: chinos, soft linen shirts or polo shirts.
They are drinking Corona, of course. Since Jennifer's little show has
finished they are all pretending not to be looking over at us. I stand
and walk the half dozen steps between our tables' In that time they all
look straight at me, or at least straight at my chest LOL. Men! I think
to myself, amused at the irony.
"Excuse me... you wouldn't have a spare cigarette by any chance?"
The guy closest to me almost jumps up. Stumbling slightly.
"Yes, sure!" he opens the top of his pack and holds it out to me. Having
managed to quit ten years ago when I was much more like the guy in front
of me than he would ever believe, I know this is not something I should
do. But my long fingers with my manicured nails slide a cigarette from
the pack and I place it between my lips. He immediately holds out his
lighter to me and cupping his hands around the flame he clicks it on. I
know that he is looking down my blouse as he does it. I draw in the
smooth smoke and not having smoked for so many years feel the buzz
straight away. He can tell, and suggests I sit down and enjoy the smoke
with them. I of course accept: that was never in question. Ironically,
as I sit down, I realise this is exactly where I was sitting yesterday
lunchtime when Sir procured me.
"So what's your name? I'm Harry"
"stephanie."
They ask about me, where I work, what I do, if I'm from Cambridge. I
find out that they all work over on the big tech park, which makes
sense, although they're not engineers. They work in acquisitions: irony
again. They find out I'm an interior designer from Cambridge. I'm
offered another cigarette, which I take. Then one of them is heading
into the bar to buy drinks and they offer me one. I know I can't refuse,
so ask for a small glass of Chablis. The conversation is easy and soon
Jack arrives back with the drinks. Wryly I look and see that the glass
is certainly not a small one. Still, I am enjoying the conversation,
even though now occasionally I feel Harry's hand rest lightly on my
thigh. The conversation flows easily, but all the time I am starting to
feel the lines between my day to day life and the one I have been living
for the last 36 hours blurring. I start to forget that my blouse is open
to the waist, and the lightest gust would expose my breasts and that
anyone sitting beside me, such as Harry, can easily see my nakedness. By
now I have all but forgotten that my skin is not as perfect and ivory as
it was when I was here yesterday lunchtime, but in several places,
brutally, although temporarily, marked by the teeth and tools of others.
Lighting my third cigarette Harry gently touches my neck.
"Did these hurt, all these marks on you?"
I blush immediately, instantly remembering.
"Sort of... but not too much"
I don't quite know how to explain that although it was excruciating, at
the time I welcomed it. I lean back slightly, drawing in the smoke from
my cigarette, enjoying the taste in my mouth, enjoying the ritual of
smoking, of blowing out the smoke. I see Harry's eyes wandering over my
body, over the marks on my skin. I contemplate that I had committed to
myself to give up smoking before I started to transition. So I had never
smoked as a woman. It gives me time to think about how I am going to
handle the situation. Harry's hand is now simply resting on my thigh,
but his fingers are clearly playing with the button of my suspender
strap where it is clipped to my stocking. Ruefully I see that another
glass of wine has arrived, and they are not making my thought processes
any easier. Harry's friends are also starting to get a little louder.
The guy opposite, Dave, is watching Harry's hand and listening to my
explanation, it's him that has just brought me another glass of wine.
"So are you into kinky sex then, stephanie?"
I feel Harry's hand suddenly tense and still on my thigh, embarrassed
that Dave has asked but clearly wanting to know as well.
"It depends on what you think of as kinky" I respond, not wanting to be
on the back foot. "I enjoy some power-play... but only with people I
trust" I tell him, realising how hollow that belief is after the last
day. I sense that while Harry is charming and gentle, Dave may well
understand what I mean slightly better.
"So why didn't you do your blouse up when you came over? Did you forget?
Or are you not allowed to?"
I am thankful of the dark to cover up yet another blush.
"I was told to leave it..."
"Cute.... A subby.... Maybe I can play with you sometime. Should I ask
the guy over there?" Dave motions towards Sir
"Or maybe you should, later, given he told you to come over?"
"If you would like me to. "
All the time Harry's hand is resting on me and through the conversation
he manoeuvers it so that he is cupping my arse.
"Maybe you should give us your number so that we can call you and find
out?"
"Of course. "
All four of the young men take down my number.
"I should be getting back, thanks for the drinks"
I get up to leave and Harry stands up, and before I turn to go he gives
me a kiss right on the lips. Dave calls me to his side of the table and
before I am allowed to go he insists that I give them all a kiss, each
deeper than the last, Dave being last. Whilst kissing me he brazenly
brushes my blouse aside and caresses my breasts. I thank him and go to
walk unsteadily back to my companions; as I go Harry gives me his packet
of cigarettes with a disposable lighter. I notice his number hastily
written on the packet. Walking back I fasten the button on my blouse
again, having kissed four men.
I can tell that Mike, Jennifer and Sir have been talking business as
well as enjoying the show, especially the last part of it. I take the
seat beside Sir and opposite Jennifer. The night is getting late and I
am unsure what will happen next. I do know I can walk home from here,
and that I have work in the morning. I also know that I'm missing my
underwear and that my own clothes are still at Sir's house. Sir is
clearly also tired and suggests that we call it a night, but insists
that Mike drop us at his house and that he will organise someone to take
me home from there. Harry waves goodbye as we head off and make our way
back to Mike's car.
"I see you have an admirer?" teases Jennifer. "Does he know that you
have a little cock under that pretty skirt? Or do you make a habit of
not telling potential lovers?"
I realise she is referring to Sir.
"No, he doesn't know. I don't intend to see him again"
"You may not have a choice: you have given him your phone number and I'm
pretty sure that your cute little arse is going to be whored out, aren't
you?"
"I think that was just a game" I respond.
"You just see"
We get to Mike's car and I get in the back with Jennifer, who
immediately pulls me into a deep kiss. By the time we arrive at Sir's
house my blouse is laying on the seat of the car and my skirt is on the
floor along with Jennifer's dress, and I have been pushed to the floor
with my head buried between her legs, something I have not done with a
girl for very many years. Sir opens the car door, and looking amused,
Jennifer hands him my clothes, including my lingerie that was in her
handbag. He holds out his hand. Wearing nothing more than bruises, a
garterbelt, stockings and five inch heels, I take his hand and walk to
his front door. I'm not even embarrassed now at the way my little cock
is slipping out from its tuck. Entering the hallway where Sir first took
me, he immediately takes advantage of my nakedness, having me lean over
against the chest in the hall whilst quickly pulls out my plug and fills
me once more with his cock and then rapidly, his sperm.
"I would love to spend more time with you tonight, but we must both
sleep and you must go to your other job in the morning, but first come
through to the living room: there are some things I'd like to explain"
We go through to his elegant living room, where I had been so thoroughly
flogged yesterday, and he motions for me to sit on the sofa. Sir then
brings a small but exquisite bag as well as several garment bags. He
shows me that my clothes, as well as those he has acquired for me, are
in the garment bags, having been cleaned and pressed. He then opens the
small bag and goes through the contents with me. My lingerie is in there
as well as several pairs of exquisite new stockings, all seamed I see,
obviously his preference. Then a brand new Google Pixel 3. He explains
that it has already been set up, and that all I need to do is to put my
SIM card into it in order that my phone number, that I had given out so
readily, was associated with the phone. Then he opens what looks like a
large jewellery box. Inside is the same polished butt plug than he had
put inside me when we went to the restaurant, together with a USB
charger. He explains that I should put this on charge whenever I go to
sleep, and insert it each morning. Questioning whether that meant during
the week drew a look which made it clear that it was at all times. The
next box has a slightly smaller plug, which is apparently for night
times. Then. explaining that I can explore my other surprises at home,
he offers me a coat, saying that he will have the clothes I was wearing
today cleaned. As I put on the coat he turns to me... lightly kisses my
lips and then says:
"My dearest stephanie... I almost forgot one thing" and with that he
hands me a new ?5 note
"For my whore"
Sir leads me to the door and the same big black car is waiting outside
as had ferried us around yesterday, with the same driver. Sir leads me
to the back seat of the car; the driver is holding open the door. Sir
ensures I am seated and I am certain the driver enjoys the view as I
take my seat, given that the coat slipped off my leg, showing the welt
of my stocking and suspender clip. Sir does not get in beside me, but
turns to the driver.
"Please take stephanie to her home; I am sure she will tip you
handsomely." I knew I was still a whore for the rest of this evening. If
I'm to be a whore I decide to act the part and as the car pulls away I
cross my legs, allowing the coat to drop away, allowing the driver, who
had again adjusted his mirror, to enjoy the sight of my legs. I also
realise that I am still slightly fuzzy from all the wine I have been
drinking. In no time at all I realise we are pulling up outside my flat.
The driver opens the door to me and takes my hand, guiding me to the
door. As I open the door he informs me that Sir has insisted he makes
sure I get safely to my flat, so he follows me into the hall and up the
stairs. As I open the door I turn towards him, not knowing quite how I
should go about offering him a "tip." I don't need to. As I go in he
follows and pushes me against the wall. Pushing the coat off my
shoulders he looks over my body. The coat is now behind me, held in the
crooks of my arms: all I am wearing is the jewellery, garterbelt,
stockings and heels. As his eyes roam down my body I see him pause on
the marks and bruises and I wonder how many girls he has seen like this
and how many he has taken home. I see him start slightly as his eyes
settle on my cock which is now clearly visible.
"Turn around bitch: I guess you'll be taking it up the arse then."
The sounds of Heart Cambridge FM from my alarm welcome me to Monday. The
sun is already streaming into most of the flat although thankfully I had
closed the curtains in my bedroom. The dull glow of the green LED on my
bedside table reminds me of my weekend adventure, showing me that my new
toy is fully charged. I wander barefoot into my kitchen and make a cup
of tea to bring back to bed, my arse reminding me that I am still
plugged with the new toy's twin. I sit up in bed, enjoying the tea,
thankful that I still have a couple of hours before work. I soon head to
my bathroom for a long shower and will now need to clean myself inside
each morning. I'm not going to be able to easily cover the marks on my
body, so I'm pleased our office is air-conditioned. I choose a white
pencil skirt, a stunning fuchsia coloured fine linen blouse with a
beautiful white and pink silk scarf. I'm pleased that at least the marks
on my neck from Saturday are fading. Perhaps I'll be able to get back to
normal. I get to the office a couple of minutes early, as usual, make
myself a cup of Earl Grey tea as usual and pass the time of day with my
colleagues, I avoid the usual questions about the weekend other than,
"yes, great thanks."
Firing up my Mac I open the browser and check what I have going on
today: one new client meeting this afternoon with Athena Property
Development, otherwise just the usual. Hopefully I should get some work
done, then I see other new client meeting request pop up for Thursday
afternoon: M.J. properties, site visit.
I open my email. Amongst the many emails are a couple that catch my eye,
one from the new client, Athena. I look at that, apparently a really big
deal, sorting out their show homes. I notice that there is a small note
on their site, "a Division of M.J. Properties." I hesitate to look at
the next email: the subject line is just "personal service."
As soon as I open the mail the plug in my arse starts to pulse: thank
god the thing is so well made it's silent. The mail reads:
"You have not yet activated your new phone, please do. You will find
there are multiple accounts set up there. You will know by now that I
can set triggers for your plug; I know that it is with you as it is geo-
located through the SiM card embedded inside it. You will also now see
that there are some appointments being entered into your calendar. Those
that are during the day include your services as an interior designer
and will further your career, although blur your two lives. Those that
are in the evenings and weekends are only for your services as a
courtesan. Your services in this respect will be rather more lucrative
than the ?5 you sold yourself for this weekend. If you close this email
and delete it, I will know, and that will tell me that you want no
further part. If so, you may keep all the toys and clothes as a true
payment for your service this weekend which was truly divine and the new
client meetings will disappear. If you reply to this mail, then you
accept these conditions"
I close the email and the plug stops its pulsing. I go and make myself a
coffee, feeling the width of the plug making me wiggle my bottom, but
missing the pulsing. I look out the window at this quiet but beautiful
sunny day in this quiet but beautiful city and slowly wander back to my
desk. Putting in my password I re-open my email. I click on the same
email and the pulsing re-starts. I click on the reply icon.
"Yes Sir."
Send.
This is the end of the current story, although there is clearly a
further story to be told. If you would like me to continue let me know.
Stephanie xxx
Cheryl
- 17.04.2020
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