Mrs. Veronica Taylor

Author's Comments: All characters in this story are at least 18 years old and this is a work of fiction. The future short submissions, form part of one mans journey in support of another and documented for your pleasure. There are a few twists and turns, and yes I do digress on occasion as it is in development and all errors are mine. Suggestions are invited and comments welcomed.

....................................................................................................................................................................

Introducing another very sophisticated and much older lady for your pleasure. Just a note that I'm trying to list the stories in order for you, so if you are reading one of my stories, it would probably make much more sense if you read them in order of publication. Mrs Veronica Taylor is a favourite of ours. ....................................................................................................................................................................

Paul watched Karen sleeping, and he understood the importance of her savouring the first full night together. The first investment was now maturing with their first widow. Who would have imagined that this young woman would be the first and a great opportunity for them to manage this probate, in readiness for much larger investments in the future?

Paul had read the reports from Brains. Her husband's Nigerian family already on route to the UK and from the communication they had just intercepted on her mobile and emails, already putting her under pressure to allow them to manage the estate. The father in law had requested, well actually demanded she sign a power of attorney, instructing her and her daughter Elise, to return to Nigeria with his wife and their son's body early next week.

He was feeling strangely protective. Karen was a wonderful mother, a highly talented Interior designer with a number of high profile commissions, thanks to introduction and referrals from their network of contacts. Paul would deal with the Nigerians and had already requested information on the father in law, having a wonderful contact in West Africa, who is responsible for the majority of kidnap and ransom insurance negotiations.

The father in law, Mr Bello senior was well known and had one too many skeletons and would be encouraged by a number of trusted individuals, in London and Lagos, Nigeria, to simply support Karen in her time of need, respect and abide by all her wishes and then fuck off back home. Karen was exactly where she wanted and needed to be.

Karen stirred, and turned onto her back, she began sucking her thumb. Paul had pulled up her simple white cotton nightie and ran his hands over her nappy and then tickled her tummy, whispering into her ear that she is all wet and it will soon be time to change her nappy.

She nodded her acceptance, making lovely noises that he had come to recognise as absolute contentment and happiness. Paul watched as her porcelain, white face flushed deep red, her neck now tightening and reddening. The guttural noises changed as her face tightened in concentration and she actually grunted in pleasure as she emptied her bowels. Admittedly, despite being a dirty fucker sexually, Paul had struggled ever so slightly with her very particular needs in the early months.

Brains had almost lost consciousness, laughing at his desk when the report had hit his desk, detailing her regular visits to Literotica, searching for anal, and poop and toilet fetish. Paul had actually entered his office, concerned at the noise and that had set Brains off a second time. On presenting the scripted data to Paul, with the recent shared fetish messages and communication, he had said, "no fucking way Brains!"

Brains had then succinctly summarised, "Paul, her net worth has increased over the period from £3.7m to £5m UK Sterling, and she has finally admitted her deepest desire, so quite frankly she can shit all she likes!"

Brains had also taken the opportunity to remind Paul of an incident that he himself had witnessed, describing a previous conquest, who having been fucked so hard and so unexpectedly up the arse by Paul, she had completely and utterly released the entire, wet contents of her bowels as he had withdrawn his angry cock.

He had smiled and laughed at the memory of Brains, leaning out of the window of one of the most exclusive, hotels in Knightsbridge, taking in gulps of fresh air. Whilst a shocked Mrs Abbigail Goldsmith had fled to the bathroom, leaving Paul looking down at the bed and his cock and his trousers around his ankles, all soaked in seriously smelly shit.

Everything that afternoon had been caught on camera; she was a local parish councillor who had subsequently run for her party, and in a safe seat; she had successfully secured her place on the backbenches of the English government. Mrs Abbigail Goldsmith also became ii8 and even her very soiled panties had found their way into Paul's collection.

Now that was messy. On reflection, Paul thought, Brains did make a very valid point. We can come back to Mrs Goldsmith at a much later date. She had of course put that wild, and isolated experience completely out of her mind, thankful that the men she had met that evening had no idea of who she was. She had explained away her state and condition to her husband that evening as an acute stomach bug and Paul had been so very understanding of the whole frightful incident. She never did recover her panties.

She had often thought of him, but the shiver of fear at the consequences, soon brought her back to reality. That was indeed an isolated episode that was now firmly in the past. She was concentrating on securing her position at the top table of government, and her husband's power, wealth and influence was certainly proving fortuitous. Little did she realise that she was now their most valuable target, with H and a dedicated team of hackers, monitoring her and every piece of communication.

Getting back to Karen, and her very simple needs; Paul had agreed with the suggested approach and it was at one such meeting, he had instructed her to spread her legs in the rear of his Mercedes G wagon, and he had proceeded to piss with such power and force, into her open cunt that she was so obediently holding open for him. He had sipped for most of the day; resisted having a pee and actually surprised and impressed himself at just how long he had maintained the forceful piss, whilst she played with herself and had a very soppy, intense orgasm.

He had told her that day that he had never, ever been able to admit his love of a sex act involving urine to anyone. She was so sweet, so very special and so important to him, he had to share it with her. She had loved him instantly, sharing her very private need and so stunned at his enthusiastic and excited reaction, and how he simply couldn't wait to wrap her up so tight, wearing her nappy. She had kept them hidden away at home, with some special items of clothing for over a decade. Since that very special day, Paul continued to become adept at changing her nappy, wiping her clean and bathing her afterwards.

Karen had held on as long as she could, not wanting to defecate, denying herself the feel of the large, long turd stretching her anus, but also wanting it more than anything else in the world. She had savoured his warmth, his protective arms, his smell and the tightness of the blanket. Each time she had emptied her bladder into the nappy, the heat and the warmth would spread around her groin and bottom, and almost caused her to orgasm; such was the intimacy and pleasure. She should be feeling upset and distraught, but this was her life now. Safe and protected by Paul, Elise able to thrive and blossom without the oppressive behaviour of her husband in their lives and she could continue to enjoy, expand and develop her stables.

It was at that moment she realised that she could not hold back any longer, releasing her bowels into her wet nappy gave her the greatest stimulation and pleasure and now, she had the added thrill and anticipation of Paul changing her. It was everything she had ever imagined but never shared; cleaning her, bathing her and then using her like a sex shop doll. His private fuck toy, to use and abuse however he chooses.

He had expertly removed and folded her nappy, spread her legs, gripped her ankles as he wiped and cleaned her bottom. No words spoken, as she sucked her thumb, spread her legs even wider, savouring and gurgling at the delicate touches as Paul cleaned and wiped and moisturised her most private areas. She had tightened, groaned out loud as his thick finger had entered her arse. This was the moment of her transition, from the sweet, respectable mother to a dirty, filthy, disgusting, cock swallowing fuck toy.

She had switched off completely as he lowered her into the hot bath, washing her body so carefully, but the sudden shock and pain as he squeezed her erect nipple, caused her to gasp and then moan as she is pulled upright by her hair and his hard cock is forced deep into her throat. He had then stepped into the bath, she was squeezed sideways as her hair is gripped even tighter, her mouth open and inviting as he pulls her head forward and starts to fuck her mouth and throat.

He still cannot believe how this gorgeous girl can swallow his length and her open throat seemingly gripping and then releasing his shaft. The noises and gagging adding to his exquisite pleasure, never needing to hold back with this one, she just wants his spunk and juices in her tummy so, so quickly. Paul made her wish come true, humping her and force fucking her mouth and throat likening it to a tight, wet cunt, as he ejaculated.

He had carried her back to bed and tucked her up ever so tight, waiting for his energy levels to return, he would then suck her to orgasm and then tell her that he loves her.

....................................................................................................................................................................

That Sunday morning, Brains is enjoying a rather pleasant breakfast at a garden centre, close to the M1 motorway, a major road that runs top to bottom, through the middle of England. Sophie is meeting her blackmailer and according to the reports, has the £2000.

She is a simply gorgeous woman, looks about 20 not 38 and wearing yoga clothing and sports wear, and she looks truly amazing. It stuns Brains that these women, and men for that matter, seem to leave themselves completely exposed and vulnerable.

The team had stayed on the same website Karen ii4 had explored and found Sophie, ii12 searching for a much older man, a Daddy figure to wrap her up and keep her safe, once or twice a week. Her computer IP address suggested Sunningdale, an exclusive area SW of London, where average property prices were £3m - £5m UK Sterling, so prime target for the team. She was proving very popular with men, far to open and it wasn't long before she had been charmed, manipulated and groomed by a highly effective man.

They were immediately protective of her, as she had enjoyed the company of the same older man since her 18th birthday but he had passed earlier in the year aged 89, he had cared for her needs for nearly twenty years. The lucky fucker! She was now struggling to replace him in her life and find the private moments she needed to energise her body and mind. She had been desolate, unable to share or explain her grief and loss with friends or family.

Her husband had little time for the tears and tantrums and as a successful, global bank executive, had tried expensive gifts and weekend breaks and recently, had she almost seemed her old self. When she had withdrawn the £2000 in cash, she had explained that a girl friend was in trouble, she needed help and he really hadn't pressed her any further.

Brains and his team already knew that this man had taken money off dozens of women, preyed on them and was highly articulate, clearly educated and had no concern for his victims. He was highly competent but no match more his elite white hat hackers.

He had pretended to be a retired, affluent, 73-year-old widow, living 30 minutes away, when in fact he proved to be much younger. The address of the computer changed regularly, but not the location, which was a very well known and expensive private school in Oxford. They had suspected a student, which is why the amounts demanded were rather modest, but having read the subsequent messages, he had made a number of the women very uncomfortable indeed. Becoming more demanding and quite threatening.

Brains had a team, provided by Paul, positioned in the car park and he had decided to handle this himself, suspecting a nerdy teenager with women issues and far too much testosterone. But wonders never cease. Brains watched as a much older man, possibly late 40's who had just walked past him, carrying a leather attaché case and smiling as he recognised Sophie. She hadn't noticed him, looking out for a warm, and much older man.

He sat opposite her and to give her, her dues, she smiled in reply, she had been truly unsure when he had asked for the money, but she was desperate to replace her 'Daddy' figure and stop her messages and pictures being shared, not wanting to feel alone. But this man was the same age as her husband, she was clearly confused, but whatever he said, had calmed her.

He opened his attaché case, Sophie placed the brown envelope inside; he stood and left, leaving her confused, heartbroken and unsure what to do next.

Brains messaged the team, told them to pick him up and take him to the unit and process him, meaning his mobile, any laptop and access codes to his dating websites would be required. Brains had absolutely no hesitation in authorising mild encouragement.

Brains sat down with her, his tray had hot water; her favourite infused tea bags, together with some sparkling water, that he quietly poured into the glass. She was terrified, had no real idea what was happening, the tears were genuine and she was just totally distressed.

Brains, having read all her online outpourings and attempts to make friends, reached out and placing his palm over hers, he held her hand. One of the security team passed by and placed the brown envelope back on the table. "That is the man you have been communicating with and not the man you need in your life Sophie." "He said that he would be along shortly" she replied, before realising the man opposite had used her name. She took back the envelope and the crisp white handkerchief on offer. "The man you will meet is Peter, he is a widow and lost his treasured partner during Covid, and he wants to hold you and protect you and cherish you, hold you in his arms and let you sit and snuggle on his lap."

Brains continued, "you have both suffered a great loss and you need each other now, but we had to protect you and make sure you were everything he expected, and test your love and need for each other Sophie." Brains had incorporated much of the historical key words and communication between the Oxford predator and Sophie, enough to convince her at least. "You are safe now Sophie, Peter will look after you, we suggest that you delete your account and I will give you his private number."

Brains stood, placing the custom embossed business card with her envelope, "But you really need to come with me now please."

Sophie simply didn't care anymore, getting into his car, handing over her keys and sitting back, curled up in the warm, leather seat and slept. Just not caring, utterly exhausted. She woke up, gently revived by the man who had calmed her and driven her away. They were inside a large garage. "This is where Peter lives, you are only 30 minutes from home Sophie and your car will be here when you leave here." Brains waited, before explaining, "Peter is in his warm office, waiting for you, just through that door, through the kitchen to the rear of the house." He had allowed her time to digest the words and meaning. Almost reading her mind, "the other man cannot hurt you, everything is deleted now. Its just you and Peter now."

Brains stepped out of the car, moving to the passenger side he opened the door, extended his hand and led her to the door, opening it and watching her step inside, tentatively and nervously but looking around at the old, quite magnificent interior. Brains had the team organise her car, leaving the private number for Peter and her envelope.

He would discover later that Peter, a wholly inappropriate, but perfectly polished English gentleman, and their kidnap expert, was more than happy to accommodate the needs of this young woman. He had been briefed on her situation and special needs and had, in a fatherly gesture, sat her on his lap, allowed her to curl up in his arms in the warm, dark room, and fall into a deep sleep. He held her, embraced her, both very comfortable in the old antique leather chair.

Peter thought her quite exquisite and his cock had hardened as she had fidgeted in his lap, quite sure now that his cock was now wedged and positioned between the crack of her arse. The material of her sports attire, was so thin, she felt almost naked as he stroked and moved his fingers over her body, hearing her calm breathing as she slept.

Brains returned to his car and waited. He had just updated Paul, who had finished with Karen, and as agreed, told her he loved her as she came for a second time in his mouth. He messaged that she had the fucking strongest thighs he had ever experienced and that he had nearly passed out! He had also messaged Peter, and he loved this man, to say that he hoped he was enjoying their gift, and to look after her. He rarely replied, but he had been such an important investor and mentor, he knew that he would enjoy Sophie.

Brains had replied to Paul that passing out was not in the approved script; just as the other phone vibrated. It was Peter; he had put her to bed, and tucked her up tightly for now and had already discussed her free dates, adding that her husband would be away very soon, managing another merger. Yet another nugget of financial information for the team to monitor; they already had control of the family Internet and router. The husband was often too lazy to use his bank intranet or secure network, allowing them full access to his work and financial information. This would be auctioned on the dark web, sold and no doubt fortunes made.

Now that Peter was protecting and smothering the wife with cuddles, love and affection, they both felt comfortable that this investment was now stable. What a fucking strange world Brains had said out loud as he pulled away, waiting on the information taken from the Oxford predator, who was currently being interviewed and about to be retired.

Brains shook his head in disbelief at the information coming through and the depth of analyses; her predator's workload was all documented impeccably. He was clearly very talented, but his disgusting behaviour was unacceptable. Brains could not believe this; he was reading that this prick was the fucking head teacher of a private school. He justified his actions, as he thought these women found the blackmailing threats sexually exciting.

Jesus, Brains thought but quickly realised that he could potentially be very useful, as ii6, Judith Baskerville still needed a position of status within the Education sector. Reflecting on that point, he messaged the team and told them not to mark, maim or disfigure him. Then drop him back to his car and tell him that we will be in touch and if he goes online dating ever again, he will be retired permanently. Bloody hell, Brains reflected, I'm starting to really sound like Paul!

It would be his team's job to pick up on the information, help the other women and give them comfort, return their money and hopefully, identify new investment opportunities. They didn't have much hope that they could use Sophie; just allow them to focus on the husband and keep Peter involved and supportive. Brains could not believe the number and soaring value of the women on their radar now, the Goldsmiths alone were £300m.