debut

Hi, my name is Vanessa. I was born in December 1975 and now have a 34AA–24–35 95-pound figure with blondish hair. In 1998 I quit my drill world in a little Town in North Wales and went to figure out as a Housekeeper for a middle-aged man in the East Midlands of England. It was a courageous decision to gain 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 eff what I was letting myself in for, but I really did postulate to do something because my animation was so drab and drilling. Even the audience for the job was unbelievable, 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 spirit, and he has since created a web internet site that it is published on.

If you care to learn my Journal you will discover that my family relationship with Jon is rather different to that of to the highest degree employee and employer, but I have easily come to realise that I have a life history that just could not be more satisfying or enjoyable. I love my life and all the small dangerous undertaking that Jon and I get up to.

Apart from a petty bit of hair that grows on my peg, I have no body tomentum below my neck. It's all been removed with electrolysis. I'm slim with small-scale ( ish ), pert breasts that have modest aureoles and giant nipple. When they're heavy Jon says they're like chapel hat nog. I have a prissy house, matte stomach with a pubic ivory that does stick out a bit. In my kitty rim I have 2 petty atomic number 79 anchor ring that Jon put in me. My clit is very prominent and is usually sticking out between my sassing. It's about an inch long with a lilliputian round psyche. Jon sometimes calls it my fiddling dick. I don't own any bra, pants, trousers, leggings or short ; and 90 % of my doll and dresses can be described as mini or micro. I used to be a very shy girl, but I've now gone completely the other way, and get a gravid tingle from letting early people see my body.

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

Jon told me to end writing my diary 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 estimate for little escapade or incidents that we could manufacture to possess some fun. We've found one or two report that appear to be slightly rewritten copies of some of the text 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-class honours degree I was a bit annoyed about this, but Jon said that I should be honoured that someone thought our adventure were practiced enough to copy. 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 a good deal time off, so I quit.

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

The first was a business firm of canvasser. It was only small with 3 qualified Solicitors and a dyad of secretarial assistant. One of these was off ill and they needed someone for a twain of weeks to await after visitors and do the filing. The firm was founded by the old man Solicitor and the other 2 Solicitors are cleaning woman in their thirties, both well over weight.

The office told me that I would have to raiment smartly so the weekend before I started I made a dyad of doll that are to mid-thigh - long for me. Jon made surely that they had slits up the spine and presence. I wore them with rather low baggy blouses that tucked into the doll.

When I got there I found that the business office is up some stairs right in the middle of town, and the receptionist's desk is rightfulness at the top of the steps. After I'd been introduced to everyone the writing table showed me to my desk and told me that the girl that was off sick usually wore trousers and pointed to the movement 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 trouser. 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 low yoke of days getting used to the telephone system before I managed to unbend and start to experience some fun.

Each sentence I heard the door at the buns of the stairs open I'd get back to my desk and sneak a expression to see who it was. If it were a man I'd let my genu role and watch their center to see if they looked. If it was a hunky man and he looked, I'd let my knee joint drift even further apart.

After I'd phoned whoever to tell them that their visitor was there, I'd ask the visitant to sit in the waiting area that was in front end of my desk, but to a little angle. It's amazing how the men would always sit on the fundament that had the best sentiment up my bird. I made sure that some of them really go distracted from their stage business there.

There are some filing cabinet just near the visitor can and I made sure that I always had some papers that needed to be filed in the bed console.

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

His federal agency is one of these ‘ old world'position with bookcases all up the walls with a little step ravel to get up to them. After a yoke of days he started asking me to get the script that he wanted that were high up. I smiled the commencement 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 wretched things. I'm sure that they realised what was going on, but they never said anything, just gave me lots of piece of work to do. The other secretaire always wore hanker skirts or trousers and never seemed to want to get into conversation. I caught her staring at me a couple of fourth dimension, and it was a good job that her desk faced away from the visitant's waiting area.

At the end of my meter there the old man thanked me for brightening the plaza up, and said that he wished that he could keep me on long.



The second matter to temporary job that I did was a hebdomad in cafeteria in a big shop. It wasn't the job that was interesting ( it was crap ), 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 told me that I had to fall apart my remote control controlled egg every day.

The first morning went quite quickly, but at lunchtime, just as I was in the middle 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 compose myself adequate to look round for Jon. As I was looking the little old Lady asked me if I was alright.

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

About 15 minute of arc later the pace of the vibrations increased and I still couldn't see Jon. Then it got higher. I was in good risk on cumming while serving a customer. I was starting to sweat and kept pulling a face and stifling a howler.

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 midriff of having an climax, and I'll be back to formula in a minute !"

After about an hour the egg got turned down to low and stayed like that for the respite of the good afternoon. Twice during that clock time I had to go to the crapper to dry myself.

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

The last day started the same, but half way through the lunch period, just as I was building up to my instant climax, the egg went on to full. I had a really difficult time trying to decoct and to look normal. I haven't a clue what the customer must get 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 eyes met she smiled at me with that knowing look.

The egg stayed on entire for about another hour, it was torture and swell all at the same time. In the end, I looked up at the following customer and Jon smiled and asked me for a boiled egg sandwich. Then he asked me if I was all right, as I looked all flustered. He left the egg on total until he'd finished his dejeuner and left.

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

Love,

Vanessa