Segments - 20 - Finale

01 - Meeting Her

02 - The Services

03 - Exeter Hotel

04 - Christmas

05 - New Year

06 - The Old Man

07 - Why He Started

08 - Cambridge

09 - Norwich

10 - The Party

11 - Millau

12 - Heading East

13 - Nice in Nice

14 - Making Progress

15 - Revelations

16 - Doubts

17 - The Connection

18 - Levelling

19 - Space

20 - Finale

Revving engine, screeching tyres, big black car hooning around the bend, that'll be her then.

She pulls up just past him on the country lane. She flings the door open, jumps out and tries to run towards him. She looks ridiculous dressed in a full length tight leather skirt, almost a bondage or hobble skirt, heels and a satin blouse. She's been reading Mandy's diary again hasn't she. God only knows how she can drive let alone walk. She shuffles quickly, trips, falls flat into the grass verge, curses and looks at Clem.

He laughs. She laughs. "You and your bloody clothes fetish!" He helps her up.
"I think I'll drive."
"Yeah, good idea. I'm just glad I didn't get pulled." As he sits there driving she holds onto his arm, "I've missed you."
"Awwwwww." He wonders if he'll ever believe her. It doesn't matter. "I like that skirt."
"I hoped you would."
"Er, where are we going?"
"Back to Cambridge."
"Right ho"

As a tease he stops at Peterborough services. She want's to stay in the car due to the skirt. He insists she comes in with him. In her heels, blouse and black leather skirt she looks like a dominatrix looking for business. As they walk in quite a few people stare at her. She is embarrassed, Clem laughs and teases her. As she walks off to the toilet he admires her round backside and curved hips. It's not a bad world all in all. He imagines her inside a cubicle trying to get the skirt up, or down, or off at all. He forms a devious plan in his sordid imagination. He shocks himself with his dirty mind.

Back at the big house in Cambridge she makes a brew and some sandwiches, all he wants to do is play. He restrains himself then asks "Have you got any rope?"

He ties her hands simply behind her back. That's all. She looks at him curiously and expectantly. He kisses her deep and hard and she responds. He rubs her breasts through the satin blouse, they feel soft, smooth and her nipples are firm. He is so horny. He slowly unbuttons her blouse and pulls her bra cups aside, taking little nibbles then firm bites of her nipples. She's pushing her pussy onto his leg, he can sense her frustration.

"Cane?"
"Over there." He gets the cane from behind the settee and stands beside her. She makes to bend over, he stands her up. With a gentle action he brings the cane down on her breasts, she looks shocked! "Oh my....mmmmmmmm." He repeats this time and again getting a little harder and harder till her upper breast area is red. She is stood before him, her breasts exposed and tender, her blouse pulled down off her shoulders along with her bra straps. She looks vulnerable. He imagines her frustrated pussy caught, trapped and untouchable beneath the leather of that long tight skirt.

Like many times before all he really wants to do is just cum. To cum in her mouth, her vagina, her bottom or on her chest. It doesn't matter he only seeks relief. Even so he knows that would be a waste of this moment and this opportunity. There are so many fantasies flying around inside his head he doesn't know which one to choose. He bites her nipples again, the sting is palpable in her twitching. He pushes her down onto the settee and stands above her.

"Right, I'm off!"
"What!"
"HA! for how long huh?" She looks really worried, this is real concern. "I'll be back, just off for a drink."
"What...now!"
"Yeah, I guess that fantasy is not in the diary huh?"
"No, but what about....me...I...."
"Shush, where's the front door key?"

As he sits in the pub he calms himself and sips his coke. He rather likes the idea of her tied up back at her place. He sees her in his mind, sat there, breasts out, all red and sore, pussy all wet, trapped in the skirt and sexually frustrated. He'd like to leave her for an hour but he feels sorry for her and he needs his satisfaction. He is so excited. On the short return walk he lets his mind wander to their peculiar relationship and whether or not it's a good thing. Stupid boy! There's a sexy lady tied up inside that house and right now she's your plaything. Life is short, lets live it now and regret it later.

When he gets back she's as he left her, except she's standing by the door. "Oh thank fuck, I wasn't sure you were coming back!"
"I'm mean, but I'm not that mean."
"I need a weeeeeeee!"
"Come with me." He leads her to the stairs but there is a problem, the skirt is too long and too tight to allow enough leg movement to get up. She giggles.
"Oh stop, stop! Don't make me laugh I'll wet myself!"
"Fantastic!" He tickles her.
"Oh, oh crap I think I've dribbled." Clem didn't know he had any toilet fetishes, and yet the idea that she's wet herself is desperately erotic. It's, oh I don't know, it's the desperation, the need, the naughtiness and the helpless little girl fantasy.

He wraps his arms around the skirt and heaves her up a step, then another. With his lifting and her hopping they make it to the top of the stairs safely. He finds the shower. Great, as he'd both hoped and expected it's a big walk in affair, all tiled. He stand her in the shower. "Wee."
"Here?"
"Yeah. Wee."
"I can't."
"I thought you were desperate."
"I am, but I'm still dressed!"
"Well I'm not undressing you."

It takes a few minutes as she struggles to lift the skirt but she is desperate. She eventually kicks her boots off and starts to wee, still dressed. As she does Clem rubs her sore breasts. She is getting excited by this, the tension in her body returns. To see her dribble out from beneath the skirt is awesome. He never thought he'd like it, but he does. He enjoys being cruel too.

He unzips her skirt and with some heaving manges to get it off. It's a faff and it breaks the spell a little, Clem fighting as she wobbles, unable to steady herself with tied hands. She laughs and Clem slaps her backside. She has on the tiniest of white satin thong, now soaked. He drags her onto the landing and finds a bedroom with a large bed. It's all designer, white and cream, and completely unused, this must be a spare room he guesses.

He lies on the bed, she stands beside. He unzips his pants and pulls them down enough to expose himself. She looks on with hunger in her eyes. "Are you a naughty girl?"
"I'm a vewy naughty girl."
"What have you done?"
"I've weed in my panties."
"Bad girl."
"Yes I'm a bad girl." She's adopted her little girl voice now.
"What do you want?"
"I want cum on me."
"Where?"
"On my....my wet panties because I'm naughty."

He stands up and helps lay her down on the bed. He stands beside her, beside the bed. She's tied up, her breasts are red, her nipples are out, her panties are wet, she looks gorgeous and she's writhing on the bed beneath him. He looks at those soggy wet panties, he sees the outline of her vagina, he sees her wriggling and writhing and whoosh! He's cuming over her panties. He admires his efforts and her body.

"My turn, untie me!"
"Nope."
"No! Argh...not again!" He makes her wait an hour. He relishes her begging, he teases her by touching her, he walks away for a minute. He lets her calm down then winds her up again. By the time an hour has past he's recovered. He unties her hands, he doesn't let them go just yet.
"Go and clean up. I'll be watching, if you so much as go close to your pussy I'll tie you up again." He watches her closely in the shower. She moves her hands lower as she washes, "careful" whispers Clem. She gets closer, "Oi!" She goes to touch herself, he grabs her hand, pulls it away and slaps her bottom with a sharp crack.

"Now dress in that little pink outfit."
"It's not here, it's up north still" Blast. "I've this." She leads him to another big room that looks used, presumably her bedroom. She opens a cupboard and fingers around inside to find a soft pink petticoat. She slips it on.

She's wearing just the petticoat, nothing else. With her hands up by her elbows she teases him, wiggling her hips and making the petticoat sway. "Are you going to let me cum, pweeeeese?" To see her dressed so sweetly, to see her move so sexily and to hear her beg so cutely is making Clem giddy. Now she's untied she's still pretending to be his little girl, his plaything. He's ready to burst.

He rubs her pussy and she builds the tension into her body, grinding against his hand. He leads her onto the bed, he gets her to kneel on the sheets in front of him. As he stands he touches himself then he touches her, between her deep breaths he makes her say "I'm a bad girl, I'm a bad girl." She puts her face down and looks up at him, making those puppy-dog eyes each time he stops. He's past the point of no return, he simply can't make himself wait any more. As he cums he aims at the petticoat. She looks at his cum on her fluffy skirts. She drops the cute face, Clem wishes she wouldn't but hey, he's past caring. Her face is of determination and passion, she grabs his wrist and forces his hand firmly onto her vagina. He struggles to maintain access to her clitoris under her grip but he manages and soon she's twitching, this time she makes a most unusual grunt when she's done.

Clem's life falls into a new pattern. Most weeks he'll travel much as he's done before. Now though perhaps 2, 3 or 4 days a month are spent with Joanna in either a hotel, her place in Cambridge, the rented house up north or even his tent if it's not too cold. Their sexual intimacy grows and changes into new and strange directions.

What Clem doesn't tell her is that all the while he is working. When he visited the old man they worked on creating a website for Clem. This website allows Clem to type away, recording his words and organising them into chapters. Clem spends many evenings tap-tap-tapping away on the tablet. Occasionally he'll stop at the old man's place, drinking his hot tea while typing away on a proper keyboard, much faster. The old man will sometimes call him into another room to look at some data stream or fancy piece of telecoms kit he's bidding on. Clem likes it at the old man's place.

Joanna has talked little of the fact she started all this for a fresh story line. Clem doesn't ask, if it isn't broken then don't fix it. He doesn't know if she's working on a new book. He hopes not, he's got his own story to tell...

My name is Clement Willows, and this is MY story.