Introduction

Hi, my name is genus Vanessa. I was born in December 1975 and now have a 34AA–24–35 95-pound number with blondish fuzz. In 1998 I quit my boring creation in a piffling town in due north Wales and went to run as a Housekeeper for a middle-aged man in the Orient Midlands of England. It was a brave decisiveness to produce as I'd applied for the job after seeing the job ad in a BDSM magazine that someone had left in the hairstylist where I worked. I didn't really know what I was letting myself in for, but I really did call for to do something because my life-time was so sorry and oil production. Even the interview for the job was unbelievable, but I was so desperate to deepen 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 diary of my new life, and he has since created a web situation that it is published on.

If you care to interpret my Journal you will divulge that my family relationship with Jon is rather different to that of most employee and employer, but I have easily come to substantiate that I have a life that just could not be more satisfying or gratifying. I love my life sentence and all the little adventure that Jon and I get up to.

Apart from a slight bit of hair that grows on my legs, I have no trunk haircloth below my neck. It's all been removed with electrolysis. I'm slim with belittled ( ish ), saucy breasts that have diminished aura and giant nipples. When they're hard Jon says they're like chapel hat pegs. I have a gracious firm, flavorless stomach with a pubic bone that does stick to out a bit. In my pussy lips I have 2 little gold halo that Jon put in me. My clit is very prominent and is usually sticking out between my lips. It's about an inch long with a lilliputian circle psyche. Jon sometimes calls it my picayune shaft. I don't own any brassiere, breeches, pant, leggings or shorts ; and 90 % of my chick and garb can be described as miniskirt or micro. I used to be a very shy fille, but I've now gone completely the other way, and get a outstanding boot from letting other masses see my body.

I hope that's enough to satisfy the masses who asked. If it isn't, perhaps they would wish to email me with specific questions.

Jon told me to stop writing my Journal in the summer 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 net looking for theme for piffling escapade or incidents that we could manufacture to own some fun. We've found one or two account that appear to be slightly rewritten copies of some of the school text in my Journal, and one or two that are very like to some of the adventures that we've had and that I've written about in my Journal. At first I was a bit stung about this, but Jon said that I should be honoured that soul thought our adventures were good enough to copy. I've started thinking that way as well.

Temping

I left my hairdressing job a spell 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 worker government agency. I didn't do many Book of Job 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 qualified Solicitors and a pair of secretarial assistant. One of these was off sick and they needed mortal for a brace of weeks to bet after visitor and do the filing. The house was founded by the old man Solicitor and the other 2 canvasser are charwoman in their thirties, both well over free weight.

The representation told me that I would sustain to coiffure smartly so the weekend before I started I made a brace of skirts that are to mid-thigh - long for me. Jon made sure that they had puss up the spine and straw man. I wore them with rather modest baggy blouses that tucked into the skirt.

When I got there I found that the position is up some stairs right in the midriff of Town, and the receptionist's desk is right at the top of the stair. After I'd been introduced to everyone the secretarial assistant showed me to my desk and told me that the girl that was off macabre usually wore trousers and pointed to the strawman of the desk. No reserve display board. I told her that I didn't have any suitable pant, which is almost true - I don't have any pant. She just said,"Oh well, I'm sure you'll manage."I smiled and thought, ‘ you bet, this could be fun.'

I spent most of the 1st brace of days getting used to the telephony system before I managed to loose and start to have some fun.

Each time I heard the doorway at the bottom of the stairs open I'd get back to my desk and sneak a look to see who it was. If it were a man I'd let my genu part and watch their oculus to see if they looked. If it was a hunky man and he looked, I'd let my knees tramp even further apart.

After I'd phoned whoever to tell them that their visitor was there, I'd ask the visitors to sit in the waiting area that was in social movement of my desk, but to a tenuous angle. It's amazing how the men would always sit on the seat that had the best scene up my skirt. I made sure that some of them really go distracted from their stage business there.

There are some filing locker just near the visitor seats and I made sure as shooting that I always had some papers that needed to be filed in the tooshie storage locker.

My tariff took me into the old man canvasser's office quite a bit. When I handed him written document to sign I made certain that I bent forward so that he could face down the top of my blouse.

His function is one of these ‘ old world'plaza with bookcases all up the bulwark with a slight step ladder to get up to them. After a couple of days he started asking me to get the books that he wanted that were high up. I smiled the first time 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 solicitor were abject things. I'm sure that they realised what was going on, but they never said anything, just gave me lots of work to do. The other Secretary always wore yearn chick or pant and never seemed to need to get into conversation. I caught her staring at me a couplet of times, and it was a good job that her desk faced away from the visitor's waiting country.

At the end of my metre there the old man thanked me for brightening the station up, and said that he wished that he could hold back me on longer.



The endorse interesting Temp job that I did was a hebdomad in cafeteria in a big shop. It wasn't the job that was interesting ( it was Irish bull ), it was what Jon was doing to me whilst I worked. A unawares while after I told Jon what I was going to do he told me that I had to wear my remote controlled egg every day.

The first morning went quite quickly, but at lunch period, just as I was in the midsection of serving an old lady, the egg got switched on. I was in mid-sentence when I suddenly gasped, bent grass over slightly and started shaking. After a few arcsecond I managed to compose myself enough to look round for Jon. As I was looking the picayune old Lady asked me if I was alright.

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

About 15 minutes later the rate of the vibrations increased and I still couldn't see Jon. Then it got higher. I was in grievous peril on cumming while serving a customer. I was starting to sweat and keep pulling a expression and stifling a scream.

As I came the low gear metre, one of the other girls asked me if I was okay. What could I say,"Yes thank you, I'm just in the middle of having an coming, and I'll be back to formula in a minute !"

After about an time of day the egg got turned down to low and stayed like that for the remainder of the afternoon. Twice during that time I had to go to the commode to dry myself.

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

The final stage day started the same, but half way through the lunchtime, just as I was building up to my second orgasm, the egg went on to full. I had a really difficult time trying to concentrate and to look normal. I haven't a clue what the customers must have thought. I know that some of the staff thought I was ill.

There was one girl who I think suspected what was going on, each time our centre met she smiled at me with that knowing look.

The egg stayed on full-of-the-moon for about another hour, it was agony and great all at the same meter. In the end, I looked up at the next client and Jon smiled and asked me for a churn egg sandwich. Then he asked me if I was all right, as I looked all flustered. He left the egg on replete until he'd finished his tiffin and left.

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

dear,

Vanessa