) The knickers pulled her ankles together. The tops of her stockings perfectly framing her arse and her cunt was quite clearly on show for the old men...Mr Harding couldn’t resist just ‘checking’ her tits were properly on the desk.Mr Jones ran his fingers down the crease of her cunt. There was no pretence of checking anything. He just wanted to (and could) feel her helpless cunt.Her arse was already quite red.“Right. Mr Harding. The slipper?”“Why thank you.” was the reply. “And Mr Jones, could. " Ah yes," the voice was familiar. "Elizabeth's little nymph. Good morning. What can I do for you?" I remembered the conversation with Robert."I'm panicking I'm afraid. Can you help me? I'm helping Robert - Dr Whitehead - entertain some French guests this weekend. There are two more or less formal dinners and - I can't go in jeans. I've already committed the dress I've got to a - well I want to keep it secret. I'm sorry it's such short notice, but I've only just realised."What's going on?. More

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