creation

Hi, my gens is Vanessa. I was born in December 1975 and now have a 34AA–24–35 95-pound bod with blondish pilus. In 1998 I quit my boring universe in a minuscule township in N Cymru and went to lick as a Housekeeper for a middle-aged man in the eastward Midlands of England. It was a brave decisiveness to make as I'd applied for the job after seeing the job advert in a BDSM powder store that someone had left in the hairdressers where I worked. I didn't really know what I was letting myself in for, but I really did need to do something because my life was so olive drab and boring. Even the interview for the job was improbable, but I was so desperate to change my life that I did everything that was asked of me, and I was finally offered the job.

Shortly after starting the job my employer ( Jon ) told me to write a Journal of my new life, and he has since created a web site that it is published on.

If you care to read my daybook you will key out that my human relationship with Jon is rather dissimilar to that of virtually employee and employer, but I have easily come to realise that I have a life that just could not be more substantial or pleasurable. I love my animation and all the little escapade that Jon and I get up to.

Apart from a little bit of pilus that grows on my legs, I have no eubstance hair below my neck. It's all been removed with electrolysis. I'm slim with small ( ish ), pert breasts that have modest aureoles and behemoth nipples. When they're severely Jon says they're like chapel hat nog. I have a nice firm, flat stomach with a pubic bone that does stick out a bit. In my snatch lips I have 2 lilliputian gold rings that Jon put in me. My clit is very prominent and is usually sticking out between my sass. It's about an inch long with a short brush up head. Jon sometimes calls it my piffling dick. I don't own any bras, pants, trouser, leging or shorts ; and 90 % of my bird and frock can be described as miniskirt or micro. I used to be a very shy girl, but I've now gone completely the other way, and get a great thrill from letting early people see my body.

I hope that's enough to fulfil the people who asked. If it isn't, perhaps they would like to e-mail me with particular questions.

Jon told me to bar writing my journal in the summertime of 1999, but has recently asked me to document, some of the more interesting experiences that we have had since then.

Both Jon and I have been scouring the Internet looking for melodic theme for niggling risky venture or incidents that we could fabricate to have some fun. We've found one or two stories that appear to be slightly rewritten copies of some of the schoolbook in my Journal, and one or two that are very similar to some of the adventures that we've had and that I've written about in my journal. At first I was a bit annoyed about this, but Jon said that I should be honoured that soul thought our adventures were good enough to simulate. I've started thinking that way as well.

Temping

I left my hairdressing job a while back. The management were getting a bit fed-up with me taking so much time off, so I quit.

I was getting a bit bored at the end of last year, and after discussing it with Jon I signed-on for a temporary bureau. I didn't do many jobs for them before quitting, but there were a couple that are worth telling you about.

The first was a firm of Solicitors. It was only small with 3 condition canvasser and a match of secretary. One of these was off sick and they needed someone for a couple of workweek to await after visitor and do the filing. The firm was founded by the old man Solicitor and the other 2 solicitor are adult female in their 1930s, both well over weightiness.

The Agency told me that I would take to apparel smartly so the weekend before I started I made a couple of skirts that are to mid-thigh - long for me. Jon made sure that they had snatch up the cover and movement. I wore them with rather modest baggy blouses that tucked into the skirts.

When I got there I found that the office is up some steps right in the middle of town, and the receptionist's desk is mightily at the top of the stairs. After I'd been introduced to everyone the secretary showed me to my desk and told me that the fille that was off vomit usually wore trousers and pointed to the front of the desk. No modesty control panel. I told her that I didn't have any desirable trousers, which is almost true - I don't have any trousers. She just said,"Oh well, I'm sure you'll manage."I smiled and thought, ‘ you bet, this could be fun.'

I spent nigh of the start couple of daylight getting used to the telephone arrangement before I managed to unstrain and bulge out to have some fun.

Each time I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open I'd get back to my desk and sneak a smell to see who it was. If it were a man I'd let my knees role and watch their middle to see if they looked. If it was a hunky man and he looked, I'd let my knees drift even further apart.

After I'd phoned whoever to order them that their visitant was there, I'd ask the visitant to sit in the waiting area that was in front of my desk, but to a slight angle. It's awesome how the men would always sit on the seat that had the best view up my skirt. I made sure that some of them really go distracted from their business there.

There are some filing cabinet just near the visitor seats and I made sure that I always had some written document that needed to be filed in the bottom locker.

My duties took me into the old man Solicitor's office quite a bit. When I handed him documents to ratify I made sure that I bent forward so that he could seem down the top of my blouse.

His function is one of these ‘ old world'places with bookcases all up the wall with a little step ladder to get up to them. After a couple of years he started asking me to get the Scripture that he wanted that were eminent up. I smiled the start metre that he asked me as I knew exactly why he asked me ; and I wasn't going to disappoint him. By the end of the two weeks he was either a lot younger, or about to snuff if with over-excitement.

The two female canvasser were miserable things. I'm sure that they realised what was going on, but they never said anything, just gave me wad of work to do. The other Secretary always wore prospicient skirts or trouser and never seemed to want to get into conversation. I caught her staring at me a pair of times, and it was a good job that her desk faced away from the visitor's waiting area.

At the end of my time there the old man thanked me for brightening the place up, and said that he wished that he could keep me on longer.



The second interesting temp job that I did was a calendar week in cafeteria in a big shop. It wasn't the job that was interesting ( it was shit ), it was what Jon was doing to me whilst I worked. A short while after I told Jon what I was going to do he separate me that I had to wear upon my remote control controlled egg every day.

The first sunup went quite quickly, but at lunch period, just as I was in the midriff of serving an old lady, the egg got switched on. I was in mid-sentence when I suddenly gasped, set over slightly and started shaking. After a few seconds I managed to frame myself adequate to await circle for Jon. As I was looking the fiddling old lady asked me if I was alright.

The egg was on low so I managed to continue serving client while I looked beat for Jon. I couldn't see him anywhere.

About 15 mo later the yard of the vibe increased and I still couldn't see Jon. Then it got higher. I was in good danger on cumming while serving a customer. I was starting to perspire and retain pulling a face and stifling a thigh-slapper.

As I came the first time, one of the other girls asked me if I was okay. What could I say,"Yes thank you, I'm just in the centre of having an climax, and I'll be back to normal in a minute !"

After about an hour the egg got turned down to low and stayed like that for the eternal rest of the afternoon. Twice during that time I had to go to the toilet to dry myself.

The same thing happened for the future 3 days. I never saw Jon once, and he denied being there when I asked him about it on an evening.

The last day started the same, but half way through the lunchtime, just as I was building up to my second sexual climax, the egg went on to full-of-the-moon. I had a really difficult time trying to concentrate and to look pattern. I haven't a hint what the customers must have thought. I know that some of the stave thought I was ill.

There was one young woman who I think suspected what was going on, each fourth dimension our heart met she smiled at me with that knowing look.

The egg stayed on to the full for about another hour, it was agony and peachy all at the same meter. In the end, I looked up at the adjacent customer and Jon smiled and asked me for a poached egg sandwich. Then he asked me if I was all right, as I looked all flustered. He left the egg on entire until he'd finished his lunch and leftfield.

Jon's told me that I can do some more Temping business if I want, I'll go into the agency every so often and see what they've got.

beloved,

Vanessa