Dogging In Highgate

Roni was depressed. Nothing that unusual, for she was often depressed, some would say she was always depressed. But this was different; it was not one of the usual topics that was depressing her. It wasn't her lank, mousy hair, her droopy 36 d tits, her sturdy thighs, biggish bum or podgy tum. It wasn't the fact that she couldn't find a real boy friend and that she had a series of short-term relationships, usually ending with them ditching her. It wasn't even the fact that Sammi her flat mate had gone away, although she would willingly have scratched the eyes out of the scrawny, flat-chested, posh friend she'd gone on holiday with. It was, oddly enough, because she had landed a part.

Roni had slept with or, had given blow jobs to most of the BBC TV and other TV production companies casting directors, the male ones that is; the female ones hadn't wanted blow jobs. And to a large extent that had got her nowhere. Sure a few bits and pieces here and there, the odd play in out of the way reps, walk on parts in TV commercials and several non-speaking extra parts in TV films and some soaps. But in the main her "self-promotion" hadn't met with much success. Then out of the blue a part, a real part, a speaking part, in a soap, a national soap. Ok it was afternoons, the viewers were probably mostly brain dead and fully of eighty year old Aunty Mavises and Uncle Humphs, but it was a pukka part.

So why had that depressed her? She had seen the fucking briefing sheet sent out to agents when she attended the audition.

"Plump girl going to seed" was how the writer described the requirement for the part she was to play..

That's what got to her. Not long ago she had been a sex goddess, now a plump girl going to seed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, she had screamed, when she put the phone down on Allen Green her dodgy, seedy agent.

As she usually did when depressed, Roni went on a bender and got monumentally pissed. That was for about two days. After that she needed something different, something more. Sammi was away with the titless bitch so a fuck with her ideal woman wasn't on, so she phoned Preston Marcombe.

He was a forty something, not very successful "Shakespearian" actor who never actually got any work doing the Bard's stuff. He had got really lucky in a bit part that had led to a TV series where he had made stacks of money, for it was a worldwide, one-off hit. To him, though, it was a derisory series and was nowhere as high brow as he considered himself to be, but he invested the money well, and had hardly worked since, but then he didn't need to for one of his investments had been in a dotcom company that had also made him a fortune.

He was probably married, but refused to talk about his personal life, so Roni wasn't sure. She didn't actually care, though she pretended to, for his sake. Being the "successful actor" he considered himself to be and how he portrayed himself, Preston had a country home, in Gloucestershire, near Jilly Cooper and Prince Charles he would say, and a flat in town; actually quite a nice one, in Hampstead, of course.

It was there that he shagged Roni, there that he abused and demeaned her, tied her up, spanked her and did all manner of things to her that most reasonable women would have objected to. Roni, not being a reasonable woman, but basically a scouse, took all he could give and came back for more. Just as she was now.

"Come round at nine this evening wearing that grey dress I bought you when I took you to that party and gave you to my friends to fuck," he told her.

"Yes Preston," she meekly replied. "Anything else?" Meaning any other instructions or arrangements.

"No, just shoes, be totally naked under it. I assume you can still get into it?" He asked rubbing salt into her wounds of excessive flesh.

Roni had been seeing Preston for a couple of years after meeting him at an acting workshop he gave. He captivated her with his mature, thespian looks and assured, confident manner and he fucked behind the stage with his long, thin dick, less than an hour after they had met. He was actually quite a good fuck when sober or not drugged up to his eyeballs, which he was much of the time.

When pissed or stoned he wasn't actually that good shag, she often thought and, going further, sometimes felt he wasn't that interested in penetrative sex. Often, especially in the early days when they saw each frequently, he would lick or finger her to a climax then have her suck him off or he would cum on her big juicy tits. He liked that, but then so did she. Slowly, though, their experiences got weirder or more adventurous dependent on your viewpoint. Adventurous, if you think that is him making her cum in restaurants and weird, if you feel that him making her pick up a guy in a bar and giving him a BJ as Preston looked on, is a bit pervy.

With sex, Roni had come to understand 'you pays your money and you takes your choice;' it was all part of being an actress, well a fairly unsuccessful one at least. So she had taken her choice with him and that's why she had dressed up as a schoolgirl, bent over when he told her to, let him roll her short skirt up and pull her full white knickers down and then squirmed, moaned, cried out and finally cum as he spanked her bum. She had paid her money when he tied her up and ran feathers over her until she nearly, but not quite, climaxed. Then he had wanked on her tits and had left her there sticky and smelling as he went out to dinner.

There had been many other incidents similar to these. Incidents that many, most really, women would hate, but which for some reason did a lot for Roni. She was, she had concluded a clear submissive with a very high need to be abused and demeaned.

So she pulled the pale grey, silky dress out from the back of her wardrobe. It was a simple dress. Vee necked, buttons all the way down the front, three inches above the knee, pulled in, tightly at the waist and flowing nicely over the flair of the hips and bum. Well that was the theory and how it used to be, Roni thought looking at herself in the mirror in the hall. Now there was an overweight, straggly haired woman in a dress that was far too tight and fitted her badly. Between each button there were gaps where the lapels pulled apart and through which Roni's skin was on view. Her tits were spilling out of it and her cleavage looked like a deep crevice that a man could lose his face in. The material moulded itself round each breast riding over her, always, pronounced nipples, but which now were so evident, and yes of course, she said to herself, were hardening as she looked at herself. Fucking exhibitionist as well, she smiled, cupping her tits and running her hands over them. She knew she would wank before this fitting was over.

Her arse didn't look too bad, big sure, but a good shape, it was her tum that was the problem. That bulged, sod it, sod it, sod it, she thought, wishing she had stayed on that diet, but then realised she would have not got the part if she hadn't been a plump girl going to seed would she?

So she said out loud. "Fuck it" took the dress off and masturbated looking at herself in the mirror.

As it happened, and Roni was completely aware of this, Preston liked bigger women. He had shown her some photos of what he termed BBWs. Against them Roni was a mere whisp of a woman. Yes she was strudy, yes her bum was large, yes her thighs were a little bulky and yes she had a tum, but she was fucking sexy. She knew how to carry the extra baggage and put about and flaunt what she had. And above all else she had great tits and fantastic nipples.

She was on her way to the flat by bus wearing a light coat over the dress when she got a call on her mobile.

"Make it The Crown in Haverstock Hill instead," Preston said, not introducing himself, saying hello or goodbye.

She walked into the pub. It was crowded, but then it was a Friday night. She couldn't see him so went to the bar and ordered a vodka and water. Although she was a ballsy girl and used to being single, but then plump girls going to seed are, she was always a little embarrassed in pubs. After all they are good pulling joints and in Hampstead you sometimes got working girls and Roni didn't like being mistaken for one, which she had been several times.

"Where the hell is the sod?" she asked herself looking around, sipping her drink and feeling the warmth of the pub getting to her. She wished she hadn't worn the coat, but then she had to, she couldn't possibly take it off.

Nothing happened for ten minutes or so, apart from her finishing her drink, having two guys offer to buy her one, another couple making eyes at her and her becoming hotter and hotter.

Her phone rang.

"Warm are you?" Preston asked.

"Fucking boiling, where are you?"

"I told you to just wear the dress."

"I am."

"No you aren't."

Roni lowered her voice as much as she could and still felt he would hear her over the noise in the bar.

"I am Preston, I'm not wearing panties or bra."

"You've got a fucking coat on," he boomed down the phone."

"Yes well I have to."

"No you don't, you stupid cunt."

"I do Preston."

"I told you that you don't, so you don't."

"Don't what?"

"Wear the fucking coat you dumb cunt. Take it off"

"I can't."

"You can and you will, now do as you are told and take the fucking thing off."

"Please Preston, no."

"Take it off."

"I really can't"

"OK, just open it then."

"Where are you?"

"Mind your own business and do as I tell you."

"Let me go outside?"

"No stay there and now undo that fucking coat, you are getting on my tits you stupid, fat slag."

Roni's fingers were trembling as she undid the top two buttons.

"Mmm nice tits, love the cleavage." He said down the phone.

She looked around. "Where the hell are you?"

"Mind your own fucking business, now undo more buttons."

Looking around Roni saw that a few guys were looking at her. Was it the actress in her or the actor she wanted to be in her? Was it her outgoing theatrical nature or her sexually induced exhibitionism? She didn't know, but suddenly her strongest feelings were not shyness, fear, apprehension and embarrassment, but excitement, arousal and sheer fucking horniness.

She undid all the buttons. She stood facing the bar and occasionally side on, she couldn't bring herself to turn her back to it and face her audience full on.

"That's better, that's nice," he said. "See their eyes Roni, see them looking? Like that do you? Like all these guys looking at your big tits and fat gut? Do you like that?"

"Yes, yes Preston I do like it."

"You like them imagining you with that dress off don't you?"

"Yes I do."

"Imagining them seeing you naked, your huge tits hanging down and your belly sticking out."

"Yes."

"You know most of them think you're a hooker don't you?"

"No, I don't"

"Well they do and they want to fuck you, but don't think you're worth paying for."

"Oh Preston don't please. Stop it"

"Don't tell me what to do, you fucking slag, you stinking whore, you dirty fucking cunt."

"Sorry Preston, I shouldn't have said that."

"No you shouldn't, right, so undo the rest of the coat, turn your back to the bar and let your audience see you, all of you, you fat cow."

Suddenly it didn't seem impossible, embarrassing or awkward, now it was the obvious thing to do and she wanted to do it. With the phone cradled between her neck and shoulder, still facing the bar, Roni as surreptitiously as possible slipped the remaining buttons undone. She glanced down just to make sure that the pressure on the buttons from the ridiculous tightness of the dress hadn't popped any and then slowly turned round.

The looks on the men's' faces as they stared at her made her feel fantastic. It also made her feel cheap, sluttish, demeaned and abused, and she fucking well loved that. She leaned back against the bar and slowly lifted her glass towards her mouth, very aware that would stretch the dress even more, making it gape further and show more of her skin.

It was then that she saw Preston walking towards her. He strode right up to her, grabbed by her arm and started pulling her towards the door. Roni managed to put her glass on the bar before he hauled her off towards the door saying loud enough for many of the people in the bar to hear.

"Come on you slag, I have told you loads of times not to flash your big tits and bulging gut in public."

Outside, he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

"That was awesome Roni, you were great," he whispered cupping one of her boobs as his tongue slid into her mouth.

It was moments like that, which made the abuse and degradation so satisfying, at least to Roni.

* Preston was a bully. He had always been one: as a kid, at school, when he grew up, in his three marriages and in all the affairs he continually had. He liked to dominate women, he liked to abuse and demean and when the opportunity presented itself, he also liked to hurt them.

He didn't though, particularly like shagging them, although he liked masturbating on them. And he wasn't against the odd fling with a rent boy, a male hooker or a fellow thespian with bi or gay leanings. He was a strange man.

But he was a man that women found attractive. Tall and well-built with a surprisingly athletic figure considering he did no sport, did not work out and drank and smoked far too much and did drugs, he had a mane of blonde hair that was just starting to lose the battle with greyness. Distinguished was the term women used to describe both him and his hair.

He was also rather rich. A lucky break had made his first fortune from a surprising global TV hit show and a good investment his second just before the dotcom crash. In many ways the feature of him that was attractive to a certain type of woman, was his arrogance and total disdain. It was as if he had no interest in them whatsoever, which as people he, of course, didn't. It was purely a body to torment, a mind to manipulate and a cuntb to occasionally fuckthat he saw in a woman.

He liked Roni though. She was just the type of cheap, Liverpudlian scouse slag that appealed to him. She liked being dominated and humiliated, having her fat arse spanked and being insulted, abused and degraded in front of others. She also had no apparent morals, nice big tits and a loose cunt that she was willing to open for anyone he suggested and an arse as an alternative if the fancy took him. Just what he liked.

"Where we going?" Roni asked when Preston walked towards a car in the pub car park

"For a drive," he replied opening the door of the large Mercedes.

"I didn't know you had a car."

"I don't, I rented it."

"Nice, but why?"

"You'll see, now get in, shut up, undo that dress and get your tits out."

She got in and lay back on the big front seat, which Preston had reclined so she wa laying almost flat.

He got in the other side. "I said get your tits out."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see, but you won't unless you get your tits out, for I'm not moving until you do. It is dark Roni and you know how much you flashing your tits excite me." Preston leaned across and started undoing the buttons on her dress. He went on. "And you know how showing them off turns you on, like in the pub earlier."

It was actually a bit of a relief for Roni when the buttons were undone as it reduced the pressure from the overly tight dress. It was also quite nice to have Preston being fairly tender and gentle towards her as one by one, he undid the buttons down to her waist. He leaned further across and kissed her. Roni opened her mouth immediately and eagerly, she so liked to please him. It felt good as his hand slid into the dress and cupped her right breast; he squeezed and pinched the nipple, which immediately came alive. He repeated that with her other breast and then peeled the dress away.

Her tits, he thought moving back and staring at them, actually looked rather good. Her position on the seat bent backwards slightly, from the waist, meant they didn't flop and sag, the dress gave them a little support and her enflamed nipples stood out very clearly.

He bent over, he licked each nipple, he slid his hand up her skirt, he pressed on her thigh ordering her to open them, she did, he shoved his finger against her lips, he took a nipple in his mouth and then in one movement, almost, he shoved two fingers right up her cunt and bit hard on her nipple.

"Ouch, foocking 'ell Preston, that 'urt," she grunted, forgetting the southern, non-scouse accent she tried to maintain with the well-spoken actor.

"Then slut, next time do as you are told when I tell you to do it, ok?"

"Yes Preston," she said meekly, hurt, but at the same time excited, as the car glided away towards Hampstead Heath. They went along the brightly lit Haverstock Hill, past Hampstead tube station and up past the area near Jack Straw's castle where the gays go cruising and on towards Highgate.

It was a strange journey for both of them, particularly for Toni. Sitting slightly reclined on the front seat of a big Mercedes with her dress undone and her tits bare was a new experience for her and for Preston come to that. What was probably the most surprising thing, as far as Roni was concerned, was that only twice did she catch the eye of someone who had seen her above the waist, near-nakedness. The looks on their faces were, firstly astonishment and then sheer lust; she liked that. Despite few people obviously seeing her, it was still a highly erotic car trip for both of them, so much so that Preston got a hard on driving and glancing across at his slag, as he thought of her.

Having done the cruising thing, Preston steered the Merc. along the busy Golders Green road in the direction of Highgate and the cemetery where Karl Marx is buried, Roni recalled for some strange reason. They went past the main entrance, alongside the huge cemetery with the marble angels and other statues, and down a quiet lane to one side. He did a few lefts and rights and they entered a wooded area, probably Highgate woods or common, Roni thought, although she wasn't that familiar with the area. She had, she suddenly realised almost totally forgotten that her dress was unbuttoned to the waist and that her breasts were bare.

Preston slowed the car obviously looking for somewhere.

"What are you looking for?" Roni asked.

"There should be a fucking car park around here."

Roni's heart leaped, "He's going to fuck me in the car, how sexy and, for him romantic," she thought.

"There it is," Roni said pointing out of the window on her side.

"I though it was on my side."

"Perhaps we came from a different direction," she offered as they pulled into it.

She was surprised to see several cars parked round the perimeter. She was even more surprised to see that some had their internal lights on, some were flashing their headlights and that others had windows open. What was even more surprising was that as Preston slowly steered the car towards an opening where they could park, she saw quite a few people walking around in the car park, they were walking from car to car, looking in, standing staring and waiting.

He stopped the car in a vacant slot with about ten or twelve feet either side of the Merc from the other cars. Preston cut the engine and Roni was immediately hit by the quietness. She looked at him thinking, what the hell's going on and what the fuck is going to happen now? She hoped that he was going to fuck her, but worried about the number of other cars and the people wandering around. Taking sex risks in places where there was chance of getting caught was one thing, actually getting caught, as seemed highly likely here, was quite another, particularly to an aspiring acting star.

"Ok, undo the rest of the buttons," he said, turning and looking at her.