If you are reading this, you will, no doubt have read the previous two episodes of my story, and know that my grandfather was a craftsman in leather and wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He passed on many of the skills to me as a teenager, but sadly, being young and having my own dreams and plans, I wasn't really interested and didn't pay as much attention as I maybe should have. When he died, I inherited his tools and materials, but it wasn't until quite a few years later that I returned to his trade through sheer chance. Now, I make my living from working in leather, specialising in providing ladies of the fetish and BDSM community with bespoke items in leather.
Working so closely and intimately with women who are highly motivated sexually, means I often benefit from their rampant horniness, and I have to admit, I take every opportunity that appeals to me to make the best of it. They are very often from the 'higher' echelons of society, doctors, lawyers, and the professions, as well as members of the aristocracy. Horniness and sexuality admit to no social barriers, and the variety of high-class, but horny women I've seen, and in a few cases enjoyed, is almost beyond belief. Being measured for body harness, and talking about a topic they find arousing stimulates the mind and senses, which in turn stimulates the body. The results is quite often inevitable, and they are not inclined to ask questions about my social background when they are seeking sexual fulfilment.
I was a standing at the shop counter, filling in some official form or other when the door opened, and a tall, beautiful blonde walked in. As always she looked a million dollars, from the top of her beautifully coiffured head to the tips of her Christian Louboutin shoes. She looked at me, her pale, 'English Rose' face looking slightly flushed with excitement, and smiled with that shy little embarrassed way as she often did.
'Good morning Lady Elizabeth,' I said in greeting. 'Is that hot little pussy of yours on fire again?' She closed her eyes and sighed, the sheer crudity my words affecting her deeply, as I knew they would.
'Am I so obvious?' she said quietly, leaning over the counter and kissing me, her lips soft and warm against mine. I returned her kiss eagerly. 'Shall I lock the door?' she said breathlessly, holding my gaze as if unsure that I would agree. I told her she could, and she swiftly turned and locked the door for me. Slipping behind the shop counter she, made her way into the back room where I joined her, shutting this door as well, to contain any sound. Lady Elizabeth was a fast and a loud, 'comer.'
Most women undress from the top down; that is, they take off their top first, then their skirt, pants or whatever, but my lovely Lady Elizabeth always started from the bottom, getting her gorgeous arse and pussy naked first. It amused me in a quiet sort of way, and said a lot about her in some, 'home-spun psychiatry,' level of my mind. It was, I thought, a bit like a kid eating dessert first before the main course, but it let me know exactly where her thoughts and desires lay, and that was firmly between her legs, which in my humble male opinion was no bad thing.
