Mr. Newark invited me round to his house about 10 days later, when his wife and three kids were at their Grandmothers in Scotland. I knocked on the door nervously and when he answered it, I was surprised at how formal he was. He ushered me in and indicated that I should sit down. Clearly he wanted to talk first. I was slightly confused. Since we had fucked in his office 10 days before, I had assumed that the first time we met again would be for sex. He had said that he wanted me to come round to look at some university papers though, so maybe that was true.
We sat down at the dining room table.
"Now, as you may have guessed by now, Beth, I would like it if we could have a firm agreement." I nodded. I didn't fully understand, but was intrigued to hear more. "This isn't going to be a love affair." He stated, baldly. I wanted to interject that there was no fear of that as I didn't even fancy him very much. "But I do like you. And more than that, I can see you're what I need." I nodded, still confused. "Now if you were to agree to my arrangement there would be financial reimbursement." My ears pricked up. "Β£100 per session." I was 18. I'd never seen Β£100. I liked the idea of Β£100 a time and tutelage in the ways of sex from this older man. "As you may have guessed by now, Beth, I love my wife, but she has had three children." I didn't follow. "Her body is... not what it was. Her tits are loose and her pussy...." He seemed almost to shiver with distaste. "Her pussy isn't very tight anymore. And I do love a tight pussy. Now, when I fucked you last week it seemed that you fulfil everything I'm looking for." He paused. "You may have heard rumours of course, but I do my best to quash those. But the truth is every couple of years I do take a new girl, a girl from the sixth form who has had her eighteenth birthday, and I.... mould her. Generally I like an intellectually precocious girl with nice, large breasts. And for her troubles I pay her and I help her academically. My last girl, Isabelle..." he paused and seemed to think fondly of Isabelle. "She left the sixth form last year and now she's studying History at Cambridge." He paused. "Without her lovely cunt and beautiful breasts, I would have gone mad. And without my friendship and knowledge she would never have got into Cambridge. I think it's a mutually beneficially arrangement." I liked the idea of it and said as much. "But there will of course be conditions." He paused. "Would you like to hear them?" I thought about it for a second.
"Of course, Sir."
"Great." He spread his hands out in front of him, on the table. "Well, firstly, you will be at my disposal whenever I need you. My wife and kids are around a lot, as you can imagine, but I have a small flat on the other side of the town and they are away a fair amount. I will contact you and I expect you to be able to get away and come and see me." I nodded. He smiled. "Good. I will also need you to go on The Pill for me. I will use condoms if I need to, but I hate them. I also have a lot of semen, so I need to know I can put it wherever, no problem. Are you on The Pill at the moment?" I shook my head
"No, Sir."
"Okay Beth. Today I won't use a rubber, but I won't cum inside you anyway. Is this a good time of the month for you?" he asked. I didn't understand what he meant. He obviously saw my puzzlement, and clarified. "When was your last period?"
"Oh, er..." I was a bit shy about this question. "About 3 weeks ago." He smiled.
"That's fine then, you won't get pregnant anyway. But like I say, I will make sure not to ejaculate inside your vagina." I flinched a little at this conversation, but tried not to show my distaste. "The other thing is that, whilst I have no issue with you having boyfriends and sex with other men, I have no desire to hear about it or know about it." This seemed bizarre to me, as he had already stated that it wasn't a love affair he was after, but again I agreed. "Lastly," he began, "I don't want to see any hair on that cunt." I was still not used to his plain way of speaking and was slightly shocked by his use of the word cunt. "You will shave it today and I expect it always to be bald in future. I like a bare cunt and yours will look beautiful bald." I knew I was blushing slightly, but if he noticed he didn't pause to acknowledge it. "I have some things for you to try on and I expect you in future to always wear them for me. Come with me." Still business like he rose from the table and took me upstairs to a back bedroom, where lingerie was laid out on the bed. Several pairs of nude, lace topped stockings sat alongside suspender belts and bras, all in red or black. Lacy thongs lay alongside them in matching colours. On the floor were three pairs of black, patent high heels. He gestured to them. "These are what I expect you to wear under your clothes when we meet." I considered the lingerie before me, a far cry from the utilitarian underwear I was currently wearing. He turned to look at me, and for the first time that day he really looked at me, as though we had previously had sex. "Do we have a deal?" I thought about it. On the one hand, I wasn't so naΓ―ve as to not know that this was prostitution. And I didn't fancy him, didn't especially even like him and since he'd shown me the underwear and said about the shaving I thought he was kind of a perv. But, on the other hand, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about his cock and the orgasms he'd given me since we fucked in his office, and... as well as the money was incredibly tempting, I wouldn't mind an Oxbridge education. He stuck out his hand. "A deal?" He asked. I took his hand and shook it.
"Deal." I replied.
Once we'd agreed on the terms and conditions, cash up front, swapped mobile numbers so he could text me and reach me easily, he handed me a razor and some moisturiser, directed me to the bathroom and said he'd meet me, sans clothes, avec undies in the master bedroom in half an hour. As he shut the door I wondered what the hell I was doing, and definitely thought he was a nutter. But still, I was going along with it. I think that part of it was that I knew I had the upper hand: one word to the school and he was buried, so really the ball was in my court. Β£100 safely in my bag, I headed to the bathroom and put the shower on ready to perform the task in hand.
I had already shaved under my arms and my legs, but clearly I hadn't know about Mr. Newarks requirements re: my bikini line. Luckily I had shaved it quite a lot already: taking my lead from what Cosmo had said that was sexy, I had trimmed my bush up well and it didn't take much more work to get it completely bare. What surprised me straight away was not only how cold I suddenly felt as I washed and moisturised it, but how... aware I was of my pussy. The lips suddenly felt more prominent under my hand as I soaped up, and my clit was easier to arouse. Rinsing the soap from my cleft, I dried and dressed, hooks and eyes surprising me in their difficulty.
After some confusion with the suspenders, I stepped into the heels and appraised myself in the mirror. I had chosen the black underwear for this first time, and I looked suddenly very adult. I stepped closer to the mirror and saw that it was very clear how bare my little minge was, even in the thong. My tits looked huge, hoisted up and pushed out by the balcony bra. I was impressed that Mr. Newark had remembered my bra size. Taking a deep breath, I looked at my watch and saw it was time. I opened the bathroom door, and remembering Mr. Newark's business-like way earlier, strode down the corridor, ready to do my job.