Awakenings

A dark tale of young girls sexual awakenings set in London 

Written by Dickins

This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and 
incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used 
here fictitiously. Any resemblance to real events, locals or any persons, 
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Story Codes: ped, femdom, mast, and bdsm

Chapter 1, Annabelle's Enlightenment 

Annabelle Hopkins must have walked past the building two or three times 
before she recognised it. The fašade of the Hotel looked the same as all 
the adjoining buildings, a non-descript sandstone that had been heavily 
used during the late nineteenth century.

The Wessex Hotel had been established for the best part of a hundred 
years, and certainly before the First World War when staff and officers 
used it because it was situated so close to the War Office. 

The large sign that had once hung under the tall and slender third story 
windows had long since gone, as had the doorman who would stand outside 
in all weathers, helping guests with their bags. However, there was still 
a polished brass plaque to welcome guests, and the old brass swivel doors 
led into a marble foyer that had sadly seen better days.

There remained an air of the grandiose as guests climbed the three steps 
to the main foyer and walked past plant pots as tall as their waists, the 
temperature held high to allow the Date Palms to grow. Rugs were 
scattered over the marble floor, once rich and colourful, now somewhat 
bare, and deep leather armchairs stood around little marble topped 
tables.

The reception desk glowed with well-polished old wood while, behind the 
counter, the Hotel still boasted keys with large number-tags and 
pigeonholes for messages and mail and there wasn't a computer in sight. 

Smartly dressed reception staff waited to greet and help, their hair cut 
short, their makeup kept to a minimum. Guests felt they were returning to 
the fifties as they looked around, often trying hard to ignore the need 
for redecorating and restoration work.

Annabelle had dressed carefully that morning, conscious of how lucky she 
was to be given a chance to work at the Hotel after leaving school early. 
She was sure her father and mother had helped somehow, although they 
refused to say. 

Her mother had helped her chose the long slender skirt and the blouse 
with the high collar. It made her look like one of those PA's that rich 
men have in the city she thought. A broad belt tightened her waist 
slightly more than she would have wanted, and flat sensible shoes 
together with a pin to hold back her long mousy brown hair completed the 
outfit. 

She had use all her body weight to push the swivel doors around so she 
could get in, and there she stood, gazing in awe at the old world 
elegance of the foyer, her young and impressionable eyes missing the 
cracked marble columns, the faded and threadbare rugs and the smoke 
darkened ceilings.

Stepping into the foyer and still looking around wide-eyed she stumbled 
over the last step. Catching herself before she fell and burning with 
embarrassment, she moved shyly towards the reception desk where a man in 
a waistcoat and tie waited patiently for her.

"I'm Annabelle Hopkins, and I'm here to see Mr Selby," she announced, 
fumbling in her bag for her letter of invitation.

"That's all right Mr Jones. I'll see to the young lady," said a deep 
voice from one side.

Annabelle turned to see an older man there, white haired with a short 
moustache that appeared even whiter on his deeply tanned and wrinkled 
face his pale blue eyes seeming to shine from his face.  

"Good Morning! I'm Annabelle Hopkins," she told him, smiling her best and 
hoping her beating heart and breathlessness wasn't giving her away.

He smiled and took her hand, squeezing it gently but giving her the 
impression that he could have easily crushed it had he chosen to do so. 
For a moment or so he said nothing, just looked into her eyes, his 
expression telling her nothing, then he extended an arm to lead her 
towards his office.

The small room, discretely placed to one side of the reception, was very 
much like the foyer, giving an old-world atmosphere to the room by the 
use of old leather chairs and solid wooden cabinets. She took the chair 
he offered and watched attentively as he walked round the desk to his 
seat.

"The job is that of Guest Liaison Representative," he explained. "We 
considered employing someone more mature, but decided in the end that 
your inexperience and youth has distinct advantages. You will work in 
reception, but additionally you will assist guests in whatever way they 
may wish, in order to help them make the most of their stay here at The 
Wessex Hotel," he explained with a smile.

"I understand," she replied.

"Do you? Very good. Perhaps you'd care to give me some examples?" he 
suggested.

Annabelle blushed and licked her lips.

"Well! Guests may want to know where to buy clothes or presents, or how 
to get to particular parts of London. Or they may simply want help with 
their bags, or someone to look after a pet or something," she answered.

"Very good! Here at the Wessex Hotel, we consider no task is too small or 
too large when it comes to satisfying the needs of our guests, do you 
understand?" he explained.

"Yes" Annabelle replied, bubbling with excitement at having answered the 
first question successfully.

"Some of our guests are a little strange, some are a little exacting, and 
some are a combination of both," he explained tactfully. "You have no 
work experience to speak of and I see little point in discussing your 
school work as it has no bearing on your position here, so that only 
leaves your uniform to sort out," he said, standing abruptly.

Annabelle pushed herself up with the help of her arms and watched as Mr 
Selby opened a louver door she had thought was a cupboard. Opening it, he 
showed her that it was in fact a small changing room, and hanging on the 
wall were three sets of uniforms.

"There should be one in there that will fit," he said. "You will find 
everything you need in there. Don't neglect your underwear as we are very 
particular about our dress code here at the Wessex Hotel," he told her, 
his eyes piercing her.

Annabelle nodded, almost certain he would be able to tell if she skimped 
on any item and stepped forward into the small changing room.

"Don't take long!" Mr Selby ordered.

Annabelle took a deep and steadying breath, then glanced at the hanging 
clothes before beginning to undo her own. The thought of Mr Selby just on 
the other side of the louver doors filled her with anxiety, and yet she 
felt she was so close to getting the job.

She looked at the three uniforms, turning the collar and waistband over 
to find their sizes before choosing the smallest of the three. Only then 
did she really notice the underwear that had been provided; a short 
camisole of silk and lace and a matching pair of thong panties with a 
gusset so thin she felt certain that even her sparse pubic hairs might 
spring out at the sides and irritate her.

She swallowed as she remembered Mr Selby had asked her to be quick, yet 
wasted precious moments looking for a latch on the door. Finding none, 
yet sensing the job could soon be hers, she took her life in her hands 
and began to undress. If she was quick, she reasoned, undressing down to 
the plain white cotton bra and panties she was wearing, then any abrupt 
opening of the door would only catch her slightly naked.

She drew her bra down, unclipping it while, at the same time, she bent 
forward ready to slide the sheer camisole over her head. It smelt of 
lavender she noted as the thin material floated down over her small 
breasts, the sensuous feel of it waking her delicate nipples until they 
stood out, even through the material that cupped them. Hoping they'd 
settle down again, Annabelle speedily dropped and stepped out of her 
panties, breathlessly pulled the new ones on, lifting them quickly with 
her back to the door. 

Her heart continued to hammer as she felt the unfamiliar band of silk 
drawn deep between her bottom cheeks, pulling the gusset more closely up 
against the rear of her vagina. She swallowed and looked down at herself, 
burning when she saw her soft pubic hair escaping through the lace and 
slightly to either side of the slender gusset. It felt strange, to be 
wearing panties of such sheer material, and she took a moment to slide 
her fingers over the gusset, enjoying the feeling it gave her.

There was a cough from the office and Annabelle hurriedly stopped and 
drew the pencil tight skirt up her thighs and over her bottom before 
managing to do up the waistband and zip. Then a pretty blouse of cotton 
with an open neck that let her display the little gold crucifix her 
parents had bought her. The jacket fitted snugly across her shoulders, 
flaring slightly beyond her waist. 

To finish the outfit, she found various pairs of shoes under the narrow 
bench, all with the same three-inch heel but in various sizes. Choosing 
the size five she worked her skirt up until she could lift her thigh onto 
the bench, then did each shoe up before straightening. 

With a deep and steadying breath Annabelle stepped out of the changing 
room and stood nervously at the entrance of the changing room.

"Well, come on out then, let me have a look at you," Mr Selby demanded.

Her cheeks glowing, Annabelle obeyed, walking carefully in the slender 
heeled shoes, the highest she'd ever worn.
 
"You'll be needing some practice in those shoes, wont you?" he told her.
 
Annabelle nodded and risked turning for him, her cheeks refusing to let 
her forget how closely the skirt clung to her bottom.

"Not too tight across here?" Mr Selby asked, patting her across the 
bottom to indicate where he meant.

"No! I don't think so," Annabelle answered, clearing her throat and 
blushing hotly.

"Try sitting," he suggested, and Annabelle obeyed him, the pencil tight 
skirt ensuring her thighs were kept tightly together, the back of her 
ankles now feeling the strain of wearing such high heels. 

"Still alright?" he asked.

"Yes, fine," she told him.

"Very well. You can start next Monday. I will see that a room is set 
aside for you, and that a suitable number of clothes are placed there," 
he said, making a note to himself.

"Room?" Annabelle said, her voice quivering.

"Of course! How else will you be able to start at five, or finish at one 
and still get a good night's sleep?" he asked. 

"Start at five? Finish at one," she repeated.

"Not on the same day! You'll work shifts like the rest of the staff, but 
you'll sleep here for the seven days when you're on duty, and then return 
home for your three days off, or stay, as you wish. Is that a problem?" 
he asked.

"Oh no!" Annabelle hastily told him, the words coming automatically while 
she wondered what her parents would say.

"Good! I like to think of us all as one happy family. Treat me as you 
would your father, and I will treat you as if you were my daughter," he 
told her with a kindly smile.

Annabelle thanked him politely, as her parents had taught her, wondering 
just what she had let herself in for.

******

As it happened, her parents were happy that she had landed such a 
promising job especially as she had left school a year early because her 
teachers had said she wouldn't pass her exams, and there were only mildly 
concerned that it would mean that their only daughter would have to leave 
home.

"Mr Selby sounds like a very kind and understanding gentleman," her 
father said.

"Yes! I'm sure he'll look after you," her mother told her, hiding the 
tears in her eyes. 

"Just let us know if his doesn't!" her father added in a deep and 
threatening voice, and Annabelle smiled at the thought of him meeting Mr 
Selby.

"It's not as if it's hundreds of miles away or anything. I mean, London's 
only an hour away by car, isn't it Ted," her mother reasoned, her fears 
evaporating when her husband nodded.

The letter confirming her appointment arrived the following day, 
welcoming her to their employ and advising her that her room in the Hotel 
had been prepared, and was available whenever she should want to move in. 

With the letter came a map of London and a list of shops and places she 
would have to get to know in order to tell the quests about. She glanced 
at it but only recognised one or two names. Her parents did little 
better.

It was her mother's idea that she moved into the Hotel earlier. "Of 
course I'd prefer you to stay until Sunday," she explained. "But just 
think of the things you learn by getting there earlier. You could visit 
those shops while they are open, so you'd know exactly where they were 
and what they sold, couldn't you?" she suggested.

Annabelle nodded, her good sense overcoming her nervousness. And so it 
was that on a bright and sunny morning that Mr and Mrs Hopkins waved off 
their daughter at the train station. An hour later and she was in London, 
waiting patiently in the short queue for a cab to take her to the Hotel. 

Mr Selby was at the reception desk and smiled gently at his new employee 
before taking her small case. "We'll save the introductions until Monday 
morning," he said, guiding her through a 'Staff Only' door at the back 
and into one of the oldest lifts she had ever seen. "Your time until then 
is of course your own, but can I suggest you take a few moments to learn 
where the stairs and lifts etc are, as it will give you an advantage come 
Monday," he suggested.

The lift stopped with a jolt on the top floor and he led the way to the 
last of four doors, opening it with a key that he gave to her as she past 
him into the neat little room that was to be hers. She was, she realised, 
standing in the eves of the Hotel, the outside wall slanting inwards 
except for where a sash window stood. An old brass bed stood over to one 
side, the mattress firm but comfortable, the bed covered by a marvellous 
quilted spread that harkened back to the thirties, when needlepoint of 
that quality was still common.

"I hope you'll feel comfortable here," he told her, opening a stout 
wardrobe to show her four sets of uniforms, all still in plastic 
protective shrouds. In a chest of drawers on which a large mirror stood, 
were the camisoles and panties she was to wear, at least a dozen of each 
she noted. A narrow door beside the bed led to a small bathroom where a 
large enamelled bath dominated the room together with a large brass 
showerhead.

"I'll leave you to make yourself comfortable. For the moment, feel free 
to eat in the restaurant and, unless you need to seek me out for anything 
before then, I'll see you again on Monday morning," he said, with a 
smile.

"Thank you, Mr Selby. It's wonderful," she told him. 

As the door closed, Annabelle hugged herself. She stared at the 
impressive bed and the lovely bedspread, then the large window that 
looked southwards, towards the Thames. There was a colour television in 
the far corner and a comfortable chair to sit and watch it, together with 
a strange stool that she guessed would be for her feet, but was a little 
too high for it to be comfortable. 

Despite the nervousness of leaving home, she couldn't help but smile at 
her good fortune. Remembering her purpose in leaving home early, 
Annabelle changed from her heavy woollen skirt into lighter clothes and 
flat shoes and struck out into the London streets on her own. Luckily, 
all but a few shops and places on the list were in a small area of London 
and within easy walking distance from one to the other.

******

Some of the shops and places on the list were easily found like 
Liberties, Laura Ashley, Churches and Pink. Appleby's however was harder 
to find but she found it with the use of the small map that Mr Selby had 
given her. 

She ticked it off and wondered why Mr Selby had highlighted it. Above the 
shop there was a sign that said 'Appleby's Equestrian Supplies' and from 
the window display it was clear that they sold riding equipment. 

She soon found herself admiring the leather boots and wondered how she'd 
look in them. Leather harnesses hung from hooks, their purpose quite 
beyond her as they looked far too small and cruel looking whips and 
riding crops lay side-by-side complementing the display. 

As she gazed at the goods in the window, trying her best to make sense of 
what she thought was a bridle, the shop door opened and a woman hurried 
out dragging a little girl behind her who was clearly upset about having 
to leave. 

The woman swept past her whilst the little girl looked nervous, glancing 
at her and blushing brightly. Annabelle smiled and wondered what had 
caused her to look away so quickly.

"Come along Claire!" the woman called. The child glanced at Annabelle one 
more time, still blushing brightly, then hurried after her mother. 

Curiosity getting the better of her, Annabelle pushed the door open and 
stepped inside the shop. The smell of leather and wax hit her first. It 
gave the shop a strong but pleasant smell and she inhaled deeply whilst 
looking around.

"Can I help you?" a middle-aged woman asked sternly.

"My name is Annabelle Hopkins, and I am the new Guest Liaison 
Representative at the Wessex Hotel, and your shop is on the list Mr Selby 
suggested I visit," she said blushing slightly.

"You're a bit young, aren't you?" the woman remarked.

"I left school as soon as I could, so I can learn from experience," she 
told her hurriedly.

"Quite so! I'm Valerie Appleby," she told her.

"Is this your shop?" Annabelle asked.

"No! It belongs to my mother, but she is semi retired now, so I run it 
most of the time," she explained.

"I see that you sell riding equipment," Annabelle said, wanting to make 
sure she understood as she felt certain that Mr Selby would test her on 
Monday morning to find out just how much she'd learnt.

Valerie laughed and shook her head. 

"Yes! We sell riding equipment, but I doubt if anything here would fit a 
pony let along a horse," the woman said, wiping a tear of laughter from 
one of her eyes whilst continuing to chuckle to herself.

"Did Mr Selby tell you what we do here at Appleby's?" the woman asked.

"No!" But he did say that I had to be discreet," Annabelle explained.

"Well! We offer a discreet appointment only service to mothers who want 
to watch as their daughters are taught to ride," she explained.

"I see!" Annabelle replied, picking up a strange looking harness that lay 
on the counter and tried to make sense of all the straps, buckles and the 
chromed rings that held it together.

"What are these?" she asked. 

"Oh! Those belong to Claire Jennings, the little girl who was leaving the 
shop as you arrived," he explained.

"I thought they were bridles," she said, burning with embarrassment as 
she tried to explain her ignorance.
 
Miss Appleby took hold of the tangled mass of joined up straps and they 
unfurled leaving Annabelle staring at the shape of a slender bodice, 
straps to cross the chest and pinch the waist, more to slide over the 
shoulders while another two would pass between the thighs, their joining 
causing the edge of the two leather straps to stand up. Annabelle 
imagined those edges sliding in between her firm vulva and licked her 
lips, suddenly weak kneed.

"But she only looked about eleven," Annabelle mumbled.

Valerie nodded. "They train much easier when they are young, and it's 
also much better for business as the straps need to be changed quite 
often for a growing girl," she grinned.

"What have these got to do with riding?" Annabelle asked. 

"Come with me!" Miss Appleby said drawing Annabelle deeper into the shop.
 
"They form part of the apparatus," she explained, showing her the 
beautifully crafted leather saddle mounted on a sturdy wooden trestle.
 
"We pride ourselves in giving value for money," she said, stepping back 
to let Annabelle take in the glory of the specially made equestrian 
apparatus in front of her.

Annabelle inhaled the scent and admired the curved lines and the glow of 
the well-used leather saddle.

"You can touch it if you want," Miss Appleby said.

Annabelle sighed and reached out, sliding her hand over the rim of the 
leather saddle. She'd never felt leather so smooth and yet so firm. Her 
hand slid over the curved saddle, feeling it, tracing the subtle edge 
than ran down the middle, as if it had been made in two halves and that 
was the central seam. It ran from the back, all the way to the front, 
just stopping where the leather was raised and the surface and was lined 
with hard little beads, each the size of a pee.

"Isn't this saddle for a horse?" she asked naively.

"Oh no!" Miss Appleby said with a smile.

Annabelle nodded and imagined a little girl sitting with her thighs 
astride the saddle and her hands gripping the pommel, but the there was 
no sign of any motor or mechanism to move or rock it. 

"So how does it move?" she asked. 

Surely there was little or no fun to be had, just sitting on a static 
saddle she thought.

Valerie laughed and shook her head. 

"Why don't you let me give you a quick riding lesson?" she suggested.

"I won't have to wear those straps, will I?" Annabelle asked.

"No! However, I would normally insist that my pupils undress before 
putting on their harnesses, as this helps them to appreciate more fully 
the pleasures of riding on this special saddle," Miss Appleby, explained.

Unusually there were steps and she gathered her summer frock and swung 
herself astride the saddle, settled her bottom towards the broader back 
and putting her feet into the stirrups. Valerie adjusted them, 
lengthening them until they were just a little shorter than her 
straightened legs and letting her only just lift herself from the saddle.

"What happens now?" Annabelle asked, letting her dress flow around her 
thighs where it thankfully kept her decent.

"You ride!" she explained. "I normally use a whip to encourage my pupils 
to get the most out of their lessons," she told her. "Something like 
this," she said, showing her a long whip that tapered away to practically 
nothing at the tip. 

It wasn't quite as flexible as she'd imagined a whip to be. 

Valerie flicked it back and forth with her wrist and it bent, whistling 
in the air.

"You're not going to use it, are you?" Annabelle asked breathlessly, 
eyeing it nervously.

"I will if you don't start to ride," she remarked sternly.

Holding on tightly to the pommel, and staring at the woman coldly, not 
trusting her to use that savage looking whip, Annabelle started to move 
her bottom back and forth in the saddle. 

The polished leather seemed to welcome her, the slight ridge she had felt 
with her fingers earlier almost naturally fitting to her own seam. 
Without thought she straightened, twisting her body and licking her lips 
as the beads that made the saddle so special were being so lovingly felt 
through her panties.

Then without any thought for the woman watching, she slid her bottom back 
and let he crotch slide a second time over the magically beads in the 
saddle. The sensation was incredible, stroking her crotch and inner 
thighs with the same smooth slide of quickly warming leather.

She did it again and again, licking her lips as she likened the sensation 
to a swarm of bees waking between her thighs, then rising in swirls to 
begin claiming her belly, then her breasts. Each successive slide only 
served to intensify the sensation, creating a warm glow that moistened 
and thrilled her.

"Come along! I am expecting another pupil," Miss Appleby said sternly, 
flicking the whip across her bottom to encourage her. 

Annabelle took a fresh breath as lifted up her bottom to start the long 
slide downwards once more, her face glowing with rising pleasure. 
Reaching the end, she pushed forward and cried out as the tiny beads 
excited her young cunt.

She started to ride properly now, panting at the surge of sensations it 
caused her. Yet she couldn't stop and her body was already sliding down 
again, her cunt opening under her panties as it readied itself for 
another violation. She slid into the saddle, her breath quickening, 
gripping the pommel and pushing herself forward, gasping again as the 
torrent of pleasure shot through her once again.

"Oh, yes!" Annabelle gasped; trying to hold herself on the beads while 
her body demanded that she jerk away. Too much, too hard, she jerked away 
and panted for breath.

"Don't stop!" Miss Appleby told her. 

Annabelle knew what would happen if she continued and realised why Claire 
was so reluctant to leave. She shouldn't, she knew that. Her parents 
would be horrified if they knew. Her friends would never believe her. Her 
body quivered, dying to feel the release of an orgasm, she drew back and 
panted, eyes open but seeing nothing as she prayed but the sound of the 
front door opening rudely interrupted her.

"Hello? Miss Appleby?" a voice called.

"I'm sorry Annabelle but you'll have to get off now. That will be Mrs 
Ledger and her daughter. She has booked an hour this time, because she 
said that she wanted to make the most of watching her daughter's special 
riding lesson," Mrs Appleby, told her with a smile.

Annabelle's passion fled, evaporating through her suddenly taut body as 
she felt utter disappointment.

"Coming," Miss Appleby called. 

Lifting herself off the saddle, she felt the moistness of her gusset 
against her now tender cunt, and climbed down shakily to the floor. The 
saddle that she was starting to enjoy stood before her, so close and yet 
so far.

Annabelle followed Miss Appleby into the shop trying to hide her 
disappointment and made her way past the woman and her lucky daughter. 
She burnt with envy in the knowledge that the child had taken her place 
and was soon to enjoy all the pleasures of that wonderful saddle. 

Perhaps next time she should make an appointment, she thought. 

*****
	
Studying the map Annabelle moved on weaving her way through more side 
streets to find the Soho area of London. She thought from what she had 
heard that the shady side of sex shops and cinemas had all but been 
removed, but found they hadn't.

Now the area was a mix of coffee shops, bistros and adult outlets of one 
nature or another, some advertising themselves with their name over a 
blackened window, others with bright neon lights, and sometimes had a 
young girl in the doorway to entice in the uncertain and unwary.  

Annabelle walked for what seemed ages looking for 'Marshall's the 
Costumiers' the next shop on her list. It was also hidden, which was why 
she had missed the plain exterior and the name that was placed discretely 
on the blackened glass beside the door. 

She ticked it off her list and looked again. In Knightsbridge or even 
Chelsea its frontage would leave the passer in no doubt that it was a 
very discrete premises for rich clients. 

Here in Soho, however, she wondered how it wasn't mistaken for yet 
another sex shop. Annabelle giggled as she thought of guiding her quests 
to such a seedy looking place and couldn't help wondering just what they 
sold as there wasn't even a widow display. 

Surely it couldn't hurt to pop in and have a look around. If asked, she 
could always say that Mr Selby from the Wessex Hotel suggested that she 
visit. 

She rang the bell and waited. 

"Hello! May I help you," a woman's voice asked over the security system.

"Is this Marshall's the Costumiers?" she asked nervously.

"Yes! Who is it?" the woman asked.

"My name is Annabelle Hopkins and I am the new Guest Liaison 
Representative at the Wessex Hotel. Your shop is on the list that Mr 
Selby told me to visit, she explained.

"Ok! Push the door and come up to the first floor!" the voice said. 

Annabelle climbed the stairs to the first floor and knocked on the door. 

"Come in! " the woman said. 

The shop turned out to be much smaller than she had anticipated; a 
counter along two of the walls, several racks of clothes and dresses and 
a small fitting room.

"So! Mr Selby sent you, did he?" the woman asked abruptly.

"Yes, Miss" Annabelle replied nervously. 

"You hardly seem old enough, if you don't mind me saying," the woman 
remarked, her eyes sliding over Annabelle's lovely figure.

"I left school early, and Mr Selby thought that my age would be an 
advantage with some of the guests," she explained.

"Very well," the woman shrugged, her eyes continuing to admire 
Annabelle's long slender legs below the cotton summer dress she'd chosen. 
"You won't have heard of us because we don't advertise and our clients 
word of mouth is sufficient," she explained. 

"I'm Sarah Thornton," she said.

"So, what exactly do you sell?" Annabelle asked, looking about the 
unremarkable little shop.

"Costumes," Sarah explained.

"I don't understand," Annabelle admitted.

Sarah smiled. "Well! I make up and fit children's clothes for adults. Of 
course, there's rather more to it than that," Sarah said, opening a 
drawer and taking out some examples. 

The first garment, a pair of white cotton panties reminded Annabelle of 
the ones she wore when she was at junior school. Then followed a cotton 
vest, a blouse of thin and sheer nylon, a party dress, a pair of white 
socks and finally a pair of black patent shoes.

"Would you like to try them on?" Sarah asked.

"May I?" Annabelle replied, hoping the tightness of the panties would 
serve to rid her of her current frustration.

"Of course! I don't have another customer for half an hour, so take them 
through to the fitting room and I'll join you shortly, Sarah said.

Annabelle took them with her into the fitting room; her nervousness 
evaporating as she saw that the fitting room was far from small, as 
mirrors on three walls gave the effect of making it seem much larger. She 
didn't have to wait long for Miss Thornton to return.

"Right! Let's have these off!" Sarah said.

"I've never been undressed by another woman before, unless you count my 
mother," Annabelle confessed.

"Well I am now!" Sarah said abruptly, quickly sliding Annabelle's dress 
over her head then unfastening her bra and lowering her panties to leave 
the na´ve young girl delightfully naked in front of her. 

"Well, well! What have we here?" Sarah said, smiling kindly as she gazed 
at the light sprinkling of curls that unfurled over the lips of her 
vulva. Annabelle blushed, coyly sliding her hand in front of herself, her 
face burning hotly as she felt the woman's eyes devouring her young body.

Sarah stopped talking and slid the cotton panties into place, making sure 
they were pulled up tightly so that the gusset pressed into the crotch, 
outlining the lips of the girl's vulva, and embedding themselves deeply 
between the cheeks of her lovely bottom.

"There! How do they feel?" Sarah asked.

"Do they have to be quite so tight?" Annabelle gasped, conscious that 
they dug into her awaking feelings that she certainly craved, but didn't 
want to show.

"Oh yes! Little girl's panties always work themselves into the crotch. 
Don't you remember?" she asked with a giggle.

Annabelle certainly did, her face flooding with colour at the memories of 
having to constantly pull her panties from between the cheeks of her 
bottom. There were also times she remembered, when the feel of it rubbing 
against her vulva was too powerful and she would have to find an unseen 
place to reach under her skirt and draw the gusset away. 

Sarah held the little cotton vest ready, the pattern just like Annabelle 
once wore, with a little pink bow at the neck and slender shoulder 
straps. Then she held the party dress so Annabelle could step into it. 
There was a zip at the back and, as it was done up, it compressed her 
breasts, flattening them and taking her breath away. 

Next came the little socks, followed by the black patent shoes and 
finally, she pulled Annabelle's hair back into a ponytail and attached a 
grip.

"There!" Sarah said, stepping away and turning Annabelle towards the 
mirrors.

Annabelle gasped. She was a little girl again; slender thighs sticking 
out under the frilly party dress, little white socks on her ankles. The 
dress looked so flat that she could almost imagine herself before her 
breasts had started to grow. She spun around and the dress rose, the lacy 
underskirts seeming to help the fabric to rise, as if wanting to show off 
the cotton panties that fitted her bottom and crotch so tightly.  

"Don't you look pretty?" Sarah remarked.

"It feels so strange!" Annabelle replied, light headed from all the 
feelings of exhilaration and freedom it gave her and licked her lips as 
she jumped up and down, then turned to see her reflection in the mirrors.

"Come here! Let me check the fit," Sarah said, her heart pounding as she 
drew up a chair and sat down.

Annabelle stopped and looked across at Sarah who was waiting patiently 
with her hands in her lap. It seemed quite reasonable that she should 
want to check the fit of the garments and she didn't think twice about 
obeying her. 

She stood still whilst the neck of the dress was adjusted and then the 
big bow of silk at the back tidied, and felt strangely proud as she let 
the woman fuss over her. She really felt as if she were a little girl 
again, standing so her mother could made adjustments to her clothes, but 
her breasts were starting to hurt from being flattened by the bodice of 
the tight fitting party dress.

"What about these?" Sarah enquired, gathering the party dress around 
Annabelle's waist and reaching out to check the fit the cotton panties 
that had once again embedded themselves between the cheeks of her bottom 
and the lips of her vulva. 

Annabelle froze, her eyes wide as she felt the woman's hand stroking her 
pubis through her panties. She jerked with the powerful sensations it 
caused in her crotch, only to feel the fingers follow diligently feeling 
the curve of her vulva.

"Stand still!" Sarah ordered, her fingers probing the resilience of the 
warm folds she could feel through the thin cotton panties. "Did your 
mother ever do this?" she asked softly, edging her fingers between the 
warm thighs, ignoring the girl's sudden tensing.

Annabelle felt rooted to the floor as she shook her head in reply and 
felt the fingers insinuate themselves between her straining thighs, 
pushing the thin cotton ever more firmly into the warm haven of her 
vulva. Sarah's finger began to gently slide back and forth, almost 
immediately making Annabelle gasp with the flood of answering warmth it 
produced inside her.

"Open your thighs!" Sarah urged.

Annabelle eyes slid past the seated woman to watch herself in her party 
dress as she shuffled her thighs apart. Fingers slid smoothly over her 
labia, unfolding the creased gusset whilst sliding back and forth, 
warming her with a pleasant tingling. It felt incredibly naughty, and yet 
aroused her, forcing her to bend her knees further apart, and welcome the 
touch deep between her thighs.

"You're starting to get wet!" Sarah remarked, her own breath deepening 
with that of Annabelle's as she continued to rub. "You better remove them 
before they get stained?" she ordered, giving the na´ve young girl the 
impression that she would be in trouble if she stained them.

Annabelle reached for her panties, the need for relief now starting to 
override the strangeness of the situation. Being strange almost helped 
she thought in one corner of her mind as she wriggled in her eagerness to 
remove the tight cotton panties and prayed that the woman's knowing 
fingers would continue what they had started.

The panties slid down and were stamped into the carpet as she fought to 
quickly re-open her thighs. Her attention then returned to the mirror, 
gazing at the little girl in her party dress now brazenly showing herself 
off to the woman seated in front of her. 

Annabelle could see the eagerness of both of them, their excitement 
written on their faces. She leant forward eagerly anticipating the touch 
of the seated woman, when a bell interrupted them.

"Shit!" Sarah cried, her flushed face loosing its colour as it turned to 
anger.

"What is it?" Annabelle asked.

"Mrs Jones is early! You're going to have to leave now," Sarah said, 
putting the chair back and handing Annabelle the clothes she arrived in. 

Annabelle started to dress her hands shaking with the thought of what 
would have happened if they hadn't been so rudely interrupted and left 
thanking Sarah and agreeing to make an appointment for a much longer 
session next time.

******

The walk to the next shop on the list was made in a complete daze. She 
had to push away any feelings of her arousal to study the map and spent a 
few moments to find out where she was, before heading in the right 
direction. 

She found the shop; the sign read 'Barker's Medical Appliances' and she 
chewed her lip wondering what they could possibly sell. 

The window display gave no clue as the why Mr Selby had placed this shop 
so high up on the list, having limited appliances on show such as wheel 
chairs, portable bidets and baths with seats that operated mechanically. 

She pushed the door and entered. On display in the main part of the shop 
were dental chairs of various designs and examination tables that had all 
sorts of attachments. Armchairs that looked normal had had motors to help 
lift the weak and beds that could sit a patient up, or lift their legs.

Annabelle pressed the bell on the counter and a woman appeared from 
behind a curtain wearing a white doctor's style coat. 

"Yes! Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Yes! My name is Annabelle Hopkins and I'm the new Guest Liaison 
Representative at the Wessex Hotel. This shop is on the list that Mr 
Selby suggested I visit," she explained.

"Hello, I'm Sally Barker and I am the owner. You must be Jane's 
replacement, but if you ask me you're a trifle young for that position," 
she said.

"Mr Selby said that my age wouldn't be a problem," Annabelle explained.

"Oh yes! I'm sure you'll do just fine," Sally said. Annabelle was just 
thankful to have got over any concerns that the woman might have with her 
age.

"I have no doubt that you want to know all about what we sell?" she 
asked.

"Yes please! That would be most helpful," Annabelle replied.
 
"Did Mr Selby mention anything about us?" Sally asked.

"No, nothing! But I rather think his idea is for me to try them out for 
myself or if that's not possible watch them being used," Annabelle 
replied nervously.

"Follow me!" Sally said, leading Annabelle through the curtain into a 
large room at the back of the shop, where various curious pieces of 
equipment and apparatus were arranged.

"Oh my goodness!" Annabelle murmured, looking about her with total 
fascination.

"All the items in this room have been made to order," Sally explained, 
reaching into a glass cabinet and drawing out a black ivory cylinder of 
about nine inches in length that was ridged and tapered towards one end. 

"Do you know what this is?" she asked. 

Annabelle swallowed and nodded, though she'd never actually seen a real 
one.

"It's a vibrator!" she murmured breathlessly.

"That's right! It has three different speeds, you see?" she explained, 
turning the base from off to position one, to two, through to three where 
the hum was most noticeable. 

It appeared so innocuous, so harmless. Sally switched between each 
position letting the hum come and go, then gently laid it against 
Annabelle's arm, letting her feel its vibration.

Annabelle swallowed, amazed at how the vibration slid all the way through 
her, concentrating on the tip of her breasts and the little love button 
at the apex of her cunt. The vibrations rose to her inner elbow and she 
gasped with the stronger sensations passing through her.

"Can you imagine what it would like to use?" Sally asked softly, 
delighting in Annabelle's look of sheer expectation.

Annabelle nodded and swayed as the woman turned it off again, then 
returned it to its place in the display cabinet only to replace it with 
something else, a flexible wand of roughly six inches in length that 
swayed slightly, the wand smooth but uneven. 

Sally slapped it down onto a nearby table and stepped back so the bemused 
young girl could see how the base had stuck to the table, allowing the 
wand to sway freely.

"Do you know what that is?" Sally asked. 

Annabelle licked her lips and tried to control the strong feelings of 
arousal the vibrator had caused. 

"Is it a dildo?" she asked, burning as she used the rarely said, dirty 
word.

"It's sometimes used as one, for the younger girl, who has not quite 
developed enough for full penetration. Its main purpose however is for 
anal insertion," Sally explained.

Annabelle stared at it and watched as Sally stroked it, licking her lips, 
drawn to thinking about it sliding inside her, sliding all the way in, 
until only the flat base remained outside.

"I wouldn't have thought it would fit," Annabelle murmured.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how elastic the sphincter is," she said. "It is 
used to stretch the muscles in preparation for this," Sally went on to 
say, bringing out a stainless-steel device with cone shaped petals of 
metal that would part when a screw was turned.

Annabelle licked her lips, watching as Sally opened and closed the 
device.

"What about this?" Sally asked, putting one device away and picking up 
another.

Annabelle shook as she looked at the flexible ring that held a little 
half-inch bulb at one end with a cable leading from it.

"I've no idea," she admitted, fitting the ring over her thumb and 
admiring the shiny-chromed bulb that nestled up against the side.

Sally smiled and turned the control unit on, laughing as Annabelle 
jumped, her eyes widening as she felt the small bulb begin to rock, as if 
something heavy was rolling back and forth within it, then Sally turned a 
dial and the rocking quickened.

"Placed half way down a cock as it enters you with it working and you 
will feel the most exciting of sensations. Placed at the base of your 
finger whilst you masturbate, it will increase your pleasure no end," 
Sally said, laughing as she saw the blushes she had caused.

"You do masturbate?" Sally inquired.

Annabelle blushed brightly before forcing herself to nod, her eyes 
timidly lowered.

"Yes, Miss," Annabelle, replied blushing even more. 

"Thank God for that!" Sally breathed, taking Annabelle's arm to lead her 
further into the strange room. "You see! The art is to set the speed to 
your own pulse," she explained, turning the dial to quicken it and 
smiling as the blood rushed to Annabelle's face forcing her to blush even 
more. 

Annabelle sobbed, as it seemed to communicate directly with her cunt 
through her thumb and she pulled it off, burning brightly as the woman 
laughed.

"Don't look so worried! We all masturbate," Sally said reassuringly.

"It's just that I'm not used to talking about it so openly," Annabelle 
said with a shrug and a bright blush.

Sally smiled and drew Annabelle over to one of the examination tables, 
showing her the stirrups that would support the knees and the drop-away 
flap that would leave the lower body hanging over the edge, and poised 
for a full and intimate examination.

"What's this?" Annabelle asked, pointing to a stool similar to one in her 
room at the Hotel, only this one had a padded leather top and had straps 
attached.

"Oh! That is one of our special multi-purpose stools," Sally explained, 
beaming proudly as she went over to it. "It has been developed from years 
of experience and the height has been found to be just perfect for 
strapping children over for punishment," Sally explained with a smile.

"Punishment!" Annabelle gasped, interrupting the woman with a look of 
horror.

"Of course! Once a child has been undressed, they can be placed along the 
padded leather top of the stool and have their wrists and ankles fastened 
to the small brass loops provided," she explained, showing her a drawing 
in the product's manual of a child with their bottom perfectly positioned 
over it for punishment.

"Likewise! Placing a child on their knees on the stool elevates and parts 
the cheeks of their bottom ready for an anal examination," Sally 
explained opening the manual yet again to a page where a drawing showed a 
child with their head lowered and their anus fully exposed ready to be 
examined.

Annabelle looked at the drawings and licked her lips, her mind full of 
images of adults who would want to dress up as children, mothers who 
wanted to watch their daughters pleasure themselves on a specially built 
saddle wearing nothing but a tight leather harness, and now as if that 
wasn't enough should the child failed to cooperate, punishment astride 
this padded leather stool waited them.

"The top can be easily removed," Sally explained, unclipping the two 
brackets and removing it. "Now we have a strong base into which many 
different inserts can be placed. Obviously a commode is the most common," 
she explained, showing Annabelle by placing an insert into it that became 
a toilet seat.

"There's no bowl," Annabelle mumbled.

"Pardon?" Sally asked.

Annabelle cleared her throat and licked her lips. 

"There's no bowl underneath," she explained, blushing hotly.

"That's an optional extra," Sally explained. "Many customers don't 
require one," she said, picking up a brochure and showing Annabelle a 
photograph of a woman sitting naked on the stool with a man lying under 
the stool and pleasuring her from beneath.

Annabelle swayed and held herself, her breath shortening as she imagined 
what the couple were doing. It was the most perverse, filthy, degraded 
thing she'd ever seen in her short life, and it sent a flare of 
excitement shooting down into her cunt at the very thought of it.

"The height can also be adjustable by up to four inches by unscrewing 
these legs, so affording it to be tilted if necessary," Sally continued. 

She showed Annabelle another photograph, this one with a naked woman 
lying over the stool, a naked man behind her thrusting his penis into her 
cunt, a younger, shorter man in front of her using her mouth for the same 
task, the stool angled so the woman would be at the right height for both 
of them.

Annabelle began to pant and shake like a leaf as the photographs 
stimulated new fantasies within her.

"Getting aroused, aren't you?" Sally remarked. "I can smell it," she 
purred.

"Yes, Miss," Annabelle, replied not quite believing what she was being 
asked.

"In fact you're so aroused that you want me to use that vibrator I showed 
you earlier, isn't that so my darling?" she breathed.

"Please!" Annabelle murmured.

"Right then! Slip your panties off and lay over the stool," Sally said, 
going over to the glass cabinet to retrieve the vibrator.

Annabelle whimpered. 

Something inside told her not to be so absurd as she definitely needed 
relief after four hours of being aroused, so without hesitation she 
removed her panties and stumbled forward towards the stool. 

What did it mean? That she had a similar stool in her room she wondered, 
as she reached under her skirt to draw her sodden panties off. She lay 
down over the stool and looked down at the cracked linoleum, trying not 
to think of what was going to happen, but unable to think of anything 
else. 

"What lovely thighs!" Sally purred from behind her, interrupting her 
thoughts.

Annabelle panted and closed her eyes, feeling her skirt being slid up 
over her bottom. The woman's hands kneaded her flesh and moved her thighs 
further apart, exposing her cunt. The hands slid from her thighs to her 
bottom cheeks making her catch her breath as she squeezed, then rubbed 
and then finally drew them wide apart.

"Oh! What a lovely bottom!" Sally remarked. "You know it occurs to me 
that I haven't shown you the enema equipment. I must show you the enema 
equipment," Sally said, her thumbs peeling Annabelle's bottom cheeks 
apart to expose the young girl's puckered anus.  

"Oh, that's perfect, but not for now," she said. 

The cold tip of the vibrator brushed against her thigh making Annabelle 
gasp. 

"Are you ready? Sally teased. 

Annabelle panted, shook and nodded, biting her lip as she lifted her 
bottom up ready.

"Yes!" Annabelle replied, hardy able to contain her excitement.

Just at that moment the shop door opened and two, three voices argued 
stridently on whether it should be bought in stainless steel or white. 

With a cry of real disappointment, Annabelle stood and frantically 
reached down to pull her panties back up. Sally however just returned to 
the main part of the shop to attend to her customers, her face glowing 
and showing the signs of the passion she was feeling.

Although Annabelle left the shop disappointed, she knew that it wasn't 
the last time she would have a chance to visit. Perhaps next time she 
would arrange to visit Miss Barker when the shop was closed.

******

Annabelle returned to the Hotel to have lunch. Over half the shops were 
done, but those that still remained were no longer near each other, so 
she wanted to work out the best route to take and what sequence to visit 
them in, when who should enter the restaurant but Mr Selby.

"I trust everything is alright?" he asked politely.

"Yes, Sir" she replied, blushing slightly.

"I understand that you have already visited three shops," he said with a 
smile, his eyes taking in the map on the table and the list of shops he 
had sent her with her offer of employment.

"Yes!" I just wanted to make sure I knew how to get there and 
everything," she told him, trying not to blush but feeling her cheeks 
burn none the less. Would he know about her special riding lesson, trying 
on the party dress, or nearly being masturbated by a nine-inch vibrator? 
Surely not she thought.

"I see you still have some to visit," he announced, looking more closely 
at the map. "Well! I suggest you visit Meredith's and possibly Harvey's. 
They may be of some interest to you," he said, with a smile and then 
left.

Annabelle glanced at their locations, mentally working out a route to 
visit each with the least walking, then glanced about her. Only another 
half dozen tables were in use, one with a gentleman who was absorbed in 
the Observer, the others with couples and families, all attentive to each 
other.

She looked towards the couples and tried imagining them visiting and 
buying goods from the shops she'd visited. None seemed the type. 
Annabelle then looked at the families, smiling at a little girl who 
looked her way. They all looked so normal. She couldn't imagine any of 
them engaging in any of the things the shops offered.

Casting her thoughts aside, Annabelle visited a couple of other shops on 
her way to Meredith's. Grey's of London made fine blended teas whilst 
Warner's proved to be a glove maker. 

When eventually she found Meredith's it was hidden up one of the narrow 
arcades that boarded Mayfair. It had little in the window to describe 
what they sold and the only clue was in the sign that read 'Meredith's 
Leatherwear' above the door.

Annabelle imagined the leather jackets and overcoats she'd seen people 
wearing and before she could give it deeper thought, she was inside, 
smelling the scent of leather and wax and looking around at the outdated 
interior.

The door gave a little tinkle as it closed and a man hurried from the 
back to smile at her and nod. He appeared much too old to still be 
working, and wore small round glasses on the end of his nose.

"Good Afternoon!" he said jovially, beaming at her in such a way that she 
found herself smiling back at him. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his 
hands on his knees as he stooped to bring his head level with hers.

"My name is Annabelle Hopkins and I'm the new Guest Liaison 
Representative at the Wessex Hotel," she explained.

"Really! How exciting. But you are very young!" he said, his head tilted 
to one side so he could look at her through his little round glasses.

Annabelle blushed and explained that according to Mr Selby there were 
distinct advantages in her being young and inexperienced. 

"Quite right!" he agreed. "I'm John Meredith, the owner, and I'm very 
pleased to meet you. Would you like to see some of my merchandise?" she 
asked.

"Yes! I'd love to," she laughed, following him towards the back of the 
shop.

"Most of the items I make are made to order," he explained. 

He showed her a display dummy that was wearing a tightly fitting leather 
body suit. The leather outfit looked drab on the dummy, but there were 
photographs of women modelling the outfit on display, and the close 
fitting of the leather made Annabelle think of Catwoman in the Batman 
film she'd once seen. 

Annabelle's dream of becoming a model flared once again and she briefly 
pictured herself in the same outfit, her head drawn back for an arrogant 
pose, the lights shining brightly down on her.

"The shorter style sells the best," John explained, drawing her attention 
to an outfit similar in cut to that of a leotard, but made of leather. "I 
can alter the cut to fit," he explained, his fingers drawing lines around 
the neck and bottom giving Annabelle the impression that one could be cut 
lower, the other higher.

More photographs behind the dummy, showed front and back views so the 
customer could more easily understand the high cut that could be achieved 
on each hip leaving the bottom cheeks fully exposed.

Annabelle licked her lips as she imagined standing as the model was, 
looking over her shoulder with just the narrowest of leather sliding down 
between her bottom cheeks. However, privately she knew she didn't have 
the hips to give herself the pronounced bottom of the model in the 
photograph.

Moving on, John showed her another bodysuit, this one with zips and 
clasps that would unfold panels over breasts and crotches. Annabelle 
stared at it suddenly breathless, wondering why someone would want to 
wear such a thing.  

Breast-feeding came to mind, but was instantly discarded. In its place 
formed images of sexual play, of a woman teasing a man with the slow 
display of female flesh. Annabelle suddenly became aware of the old man 
watching her and rapidly turned from it, her face colouring brightly.

"Perhaps a face mask?" John chuckled, drawing her attention to a leather 
mask, the face moulded into the leather with only two holes for the 
nostrils. A zip ran from the crown of the mask, down the back to help 
take it off and on.

"How about some underwear?" he asked, turning her so she'd see the 
display.

Annabelle gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of a beautifully made 
Basque that stood in the centre of the display. The black leather looked 
sculptured, the hips prominent and the belly slightly curved. It's 
leather breasts jutted out aggressively, at least three times larger than 
anything Annabelle herself would need.

There were corsets too, and more simple breast halters, and underwear of 
every style, all made from varying degrees of supple leather.

"They're incredible!" Annabelle breathed.

"Oh! They're not that incredible. Not like the special things I make!" 
John told her, a glint in his eye and a finger gesturing for her to 
follow. 

Annabelle wondered what possibly could be more incredible than what she'd 
seen and followed him into a room at the very back of the shop. 

Her mouth fell open with complete surprise as she saw the items 
displayed. There were leather phalluses of varying sizes and girths, bras 
that had holes cut in them for the nipples to protrude and underwear that 
had there gussets cut out rendering them useless. 

Annabelle's face grew hot as she realised how exposed she'd feel wearing 
such underwear. There were masks that had gags on the inside that 
resembled a cock, and knickers that had either one or two phalluses 
attached to the inside. 

Annabelle burnt at the thought of what people were prepared to wear.

"Are you all right my dear?" John asked, seeing Annabelle clutching at 
herself and panting, staring at the items on display. He helped her sit 
down and knelt in front of her. "I guess you're not used to seeing such 
things," he chuckled. 

"Do people actually wear those things?" Annabelle asked softly. 

John got her a glass of water before he nodded and grinned. 

"You'd be surprised at the type of people who buy them," he chuckled. 
"They come in here saying it's for a friend, but I know different," John 
said, tapping the side of his nose. 

"Then there are the others!" he informed her. "They are looking for 
something a little different and will bring children with them and want 
to watch them being measured. The material has to fit you see. There is 
no point in making erotic leather clothes that doesn't mould and cling 
tightly," he explained, stopping for a moment to lick his lips.

"I have a measuring room! Would you like to see it?" he asked.

Annabelle nodded; intrigued by a side of life that she'd never thought 
existed.  

John helped Annabelle to stand and led her to the measuring room. He 
turned the lights on and she found herself in a mirrored room complete 
with plush seating and a round raised podium in the middle.

"They like to watch as I undress the children and measure them," John 
explained. 

"Children?" Annabelle gasped. Surely not children, she thought, staring 
at the podium and imagining them standing up there, obediently letting 
him undress them and take their measurements.

"Yes! Some as young as eight or nine I'd guess," he nodded. "But many 
your age," he told her, his eyes assessing her figure for her age. "Of 
course, I don't make the nasty things for the little ones, just leather 
panties and vests etc. Masks are popular too," he added. 

"I have them stand on the podium. It saves me having to bend, you see," 
John explained, leading her towards it and indicating that she should 
mount it. She turned and looked about, seeing her reflections growing 
smaller and smaller in the multiple mirrored images that surrounded them.

"Now, what can I make for you?" Mr Baker said. His words brought 
Annabelle back to the present and she gasped to find him approaching her, 
a tape measure around his neck.

"No, please! I wouldn't be able to afford it," she gasped.

He chuckled and stopped her from getting off the podium. 

"It will be my treat, but we'll have to make it something people will 
see, so you can then tell them to come to me for the best leather 
clothing in London!" he told her.

Annabelle swallowed, thankful that he wouldn't need intimate measurements 
for an item of clothing that people would see.

"What about a bustier?" he suggested, his face alight with enthusiasm.

Annabelle swallowed and tried to stay calm.

"I really!" she began. 

John waved away her words and began stroking his tape measure, his eyes 
fastened on her breasts as he began imagining the finished garment.

"I'll make it seamless, and tight fitting," he breathed. 

Annabelle murmured and was quite taken with the idea.

"Come along my dear, off with your top!" he ordered.

Annabelle burnt, yet did as she was told, fumbling with the buttons of 
her shirt before letting it slip from her arms, her face glowing 
brightly.

"Oh, very nice!" John murmured, walking around her and nodding. "A black 
bustier will make a nice contrast to your pale skin," he remarked. 

"Now your bra!" he ordered. 

Annabelle blushed brightly. 

"Want any help?" he offered.

"No, no, I'm all right," Annabelle replied, heat flowing into her cheeks 
as she slid the shoulder straps off her arms, then turned the bra to undo 
the clasp as it came round the front.

"Ah yes!" the old man hissed, his eyes sparkling excitedly behind his 
small gold rimmed glasses. 

"No, no, shoulders back!" he insisted as she made to timidly hide her 
breasts behind her hands. John jumped forward and swept the measuring 
tape around her, easing up until it was an inch or two beneath the rise 
of her breasts before take a measurement.

Annabelle swallowed, trying not to think of anything as he slid the tape 
higher, measuring her just above her breasts. His face though, was right 
in from of her, level with her naked breasts because of the podium. But 
that was the purpose of the podium, she thought, the reflection in the 
mirrors of her naked breasts and the man as he measured her making her 
blush.

He wrote down the measurement, and then slid the tape across the peak of 
her firm, conical breasts, delighting in the puffy tips that had started 
to swell outwards. Her pale skin reminded him of her youth, her innocence 
begging to become corrupted and soiled. Sliding the tape across the tips 
of her nipples, the swelling grew, making his mouth water.

"Do your nipples usually harden so easily?" he asked.

Annabelle blushed and fought to get her breath, the rasping of the tape 
across her breasts bringing sharp sensations that communicated directly 
with her cunt.

"Sometimes," she mumbled, her face burning.

His hand reached out, lined and worn with age, and the tape fell away, 
forgotten or perhaps ignored as he took a hold of her breasts and 
squeezed them, forcing her puffy pink nipples to harden painfully.
 
Annabelle gasped and shook, her eyes wide and fearful while her thighs 
struggled to keep herself standing. She felt her young and tender breasts 
being pulled and squeezed, and saw herself in the mirrors, her body 
struggling to stay still under her painful ordeal.

"Mm, nice and firm, not much give in the skin," Mr Baker was saying. 
"Need to make sure that the leather is soft and thin," he was saying, 
brushing them with his thumb.

Annabelle gasped with the sudden flash of sensation that jumped from her 
breast to her cunt. Her thighs closed with a slap of thigh on thigh, 
clamping together while her pelvis swivelled madly back and forth.

John chuckled and looked into her eyes.

"Such spontaneity in one so young is rare," he told her, releasing her 
breasts.

Annabelle reached for her breast and caressed it, panting as she 
continued to feel the ghost of his fingers squeezing her resilient flesh.

"Get dressed," he told her, turning from her.

"When will it be ready?" Annabelle asked.

"Return in a week. It will be ready then," he explained.

******

Annabelle forced herself to continue with her visits. The old man's 
handprints on her breasts remained for some while, slowly fading, and she 
would have liked a few moments on her own and in comfort to touch herself 
while the feeling was still so vivid and strong.

She thought of her fingers sliding through her smooth slit, thrusting 
hard into her, curling viciously. Perhaps she'd let a finger slip back to 
her anus, just to find out what it would feel like, touching herself 
there. These images kept her moist as she walked, without any option to 
do otherwise.

She found herself in Knightsbridge and consulted the map; turning it 
around until she got her bearings and then found the street she was 
looking for, one that was just a few blocks away from Harrods. 

Tall but simple buildings lined the street, many given over to offices. 
Half way down the quiet road stood the building she wanted, a normal sash 
window to the front without any display, and just a small plaque that 
read 'Harvey's Toys' in brass lettering.

Feeling a little intimidated, Annabelle stepped up to the entrance and 
found it pushed open easily, leading her into a long corridor from which 
there was only one doorway. 

Calling out, she stepped into a large room that appeared to extend the 
length of the building. The wooden floor was scattered with the odd rug 
while, along the wall and to either side of the fireplace, various wooden 
toys were displayed on beech shelves.

A lady appeared her hands clasped tightly together, a deep shade of 
lipstick making her lips stand out vividly against her otherwise pale 
face. Her dress made Annabelle think of the twenties; made of colourful 
silk, it hung from the shoulders and was gathered in at the waist by long 
pieces of silk with the hems left at varying heights. She also wore a 
brooch that kept the material together, low enough to display the long 
strand of pearls around her neck.

"Can I help you?" she asked abruptly, her mouth turning down as her eyes 
flowed over Annabelle's choice of old shirt and long, free flowing dress.

"Good Afternoon! My name is Annabelle Hopkins, and I am the new Guest 
Liaison Representive at the Wessex Hotel," Annabelle explained, with a 
smile.

"What a pleasure to meet you," she purred. "I'm Cynthia Harvey. Mr Selby 
did mention that he had employed a girl, but he didn't mention that you 
were so young or that you were so pretty," the woman told her.

"Thank you!" Annabelle replied, starting to blush. "Mr Selby said that my 
youth and inexperience would be a distinct advantage," she explained, 
starting to feel self-conscious under the woman's frank stare. "Did you 
make the toys?" Annabelle asked, looking around her.

"No my dear! I have them made specially to order," Cynthia told her.

Annabelle noticed photographs on the walls that showed larger toys, such 
as rocking horses, seesaws and swings.

"Children must love coming here," Annabelle grinned.

"Not always," Cynthia told her. "Some of the little girls can be very 
awkward and the little boys, positively impossible!" she sighed.

Annabelle looked at the woman, wondering how a lady like herself had come 
to be running a toyshop.

"You don't seem to advertise," Annabelle remarked. Cynthia looked aghast 
and for a moment perplexed, then her frown eased as she came to her 
conclusion.

"Mr Selby hasn't told you, has he?" she asked.

"Told me what?" Annabelle asked.

Cynthia smiled. "These toys serve multiple purposes," she explained. "All 
toys are educational, but ours are especially so," she explained.

Annabelle looked closely at a set of wooden circular platters that were 
stacked one upon another and rotated around a stout central spindle. 
Annabelle admired the way the carpenter had finished off the spindle, 
tapering it carefully until it just protruded from the top of the 
platter.

As Cynthia removed the top platter, Annabelle was able to see that the 
spindle broadened a little and when she removed the next platter the 
spindle was cut back forming a crescent that was remarkably like that of 
a circumcised cock.

"Do you see the familiarity?" Cynthia asked.

Annabelle blushed, thinking about a child playing with such a toy, and at 
the same time being taught about the male anatomy.

"I see that you do," Cynthia chuckled. "Of course as the child grows 
older, the educational elements can be translated into more practical 
ones," she explained, moving a lever in the base to lift the spindle up 
and down.

"What! A young girl?" Annabelle gasped. "Surely you don't expect," she 
panted.

"Of course!" Cynthia said, pressing a button in the wall. 

Annabelle heard the latch of the front door being engaged into the 
doorframe.

"It also polarises the shop windows making them into mirrors on the 
inside," she explained. "Of course, not all our young clients know that, 
so they often think they are on public display when their parents insist 
that they try out the toys before they buy them," she chuckled.

"Aren't you worried?" Annabelle asked.

"Not at all! We only do as our customers ask," she explained abruptly. 
"Janice get down here now!" she shouted.

Annabelle swallowed, guessing she was about to meet someone who would 
show her the other purpose of the toys, but was flabbergasted when she 
saw a girl much younger than her appear.

"This is Janice, my daughter," Cynthia explained. "She is going to 
demonstrate how the toy works, aren't you?" Mrs Harvey said.

"Yes!" Janice replied nervously.

"Really, there's no need!" Annabelle stammered.

"Nonsense!" Cynthia replied.

"Here," she told Janice, pushing the toy into her hands, and then smartly 
took away eight of the sixteen platters leaving just over four inches of 
the stout spindle standing obscenely out of the base.

"Now! Show us how it works," her mother ordered.

Janice glanced nervously towards Annabelle, then put the toy on the floor 
before half straightening, her hands swiftly sliding under her dress to 
draw her cute little panties down; white with little flowers adorning the 
cotton, the gusset thick and crumpled where it had been crushed up 
against her vulva.

"Come on, come on!" her mother called, beginning to tap her foot in 
impatience.

"Sorry!" Janice mumbled gathering up her dress to show a hairless pubis 
looking pinched between her thighs. 

She knelt astride the toy, the stout wooden spindle now looking more like 
a cock than ever, and spread her thighs to settle down upon it. Annabelle 
gasped as she watched the child's labia drawn apart by the crown of the 
stout spindle, and then blushed as she heard the girl roan with its 
insertion. Her engorged vulva slid over the crown and then she sank fully 
upon it, panting and gasping with her pleasure.

"Is it all the way in?" her mother asked.

"Yes!" Janice nodded, leaning back and pulling her thighs up clear of the 
ground to show her mother. Annabelle swallowed as she saw the base of the 
stout spindle appearing from the child's moist cunt.

"Good stay like that!" she was told.

"Do you see?" Cynthia asked Annabelle.

Annabelle did and pulled her eyes away, her face burning under the 
woman's scrutiny. She looked towards other toys that stood on the shelf, 
trying to ignore all the sounds that Janice was making. 

The toys purpose was clear, so clear that Annabelle was amazed that she 
hadn't seen it earlier. Her eyes slid from one toy to another and she 
clearly saw which were those that you had to impale yourself on, and 
those you had to rub yourself up against.

With each intuitive leap of understanding came another sensation in the 
pit of her stomach, one that she was becoming increasingly used to since 
starting her job at the Wessex Hotel. She glowed as she looked at the 
wooden play beads, her new awareness giving them a whole new meaning, 
then her eyes fell on the wooden doll propped up at the end of the shelf.

Cynthia smiled warmly as she saw Annabelle's interest growing and going 
to the doll on the shelf, picked it up and brought it over.

"All little boys should learn to play with dolls," she told Annabelle; 
turning the doll over and lifting it's skirts.

Annabelle blushed to find the doll so realistically made. Perhaps a man 
wouldn't be able to use it, but a little boy could easily slide his cock 
into either of the holes.

"I have to admit," Mrs Harvey laughed, her eyes sparkling as she watched 
Annabelle examine the toy doll. "Mr Selby certainly knows how to pick his 
staff," she told her with a malicious grin.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what you mean," Annabelle blushed.

"You don't? You know I've rarely come across anyone so young who is so 
inclined towards the perverse. I bet your knickers are soaking, right 
now. Perhaps you'd like to come home and spend the evening with us?" the 
woman said, with a smile.

Annabelle felt the barb hit her and returned the doll with a shaking 
hand, her face burning with thoughts of what the woman and Mr Selby must 
know about her.

From the centre of the room Janice was watching, her body rising and 
falling in a steady rhythm that kept her breathless and flushed. At the 
apex of her open slit stood the hood of her clitoris, swollen upwards 
with her pleasure.

"Would you like to try?" Mrs Harvey suggested. 

Annabelle shook her head and licked her dry lips, wishing she could 
control herself better.

Mrs Harvey laughed, making Annabelle burn all the more. 

"Here," she said, offering Annabelle one of the other toys. "Take it as a 
gift," she grinned. 

It was a toy wooden snake about twelve inches long and just over an inch 
in breadth at its broadest. The discs of wood were cleverly joined 
together down its centre so that it could move like a real snake, curving 
one way or the other. 

Annabelle took it, thanking the woman and blushing hotly when she laughed 
at her.

"Please can I come now?" Janice gasped. 

Annabelle hurriedly made for the door holding the snake, Mrs Harvey's 
laughter following her as closely as Mr Barker's ghostly hand. 

Shame and embarrassment consumed her, forcing her run, then walk, and 
then run again, often bumping into others. She thought of returning home 
and having her father collect her bags, and yet most of her money was in 
her room and what she had in her pocket wasn't enough for the train. She 
thought about phoning home, but wondered what she would say to her 
parents.

Annabelle soon found herself in a park and sat down. Life hurried around 
her while all the strange but enlightening things she had seen on her 
visits buzzed around in her head. 

The woman's laughter soon returned to haunt her. Yet, hadn't she, for a 
while, loved the feel of the end of her Parker pen running between her 
thighs? Was that so different to what Janice had done? Hadn't she also 
settled on the top of the bedpost, grinding her cotton-clad pussy against 
the unforgiving wood? Annabelle thought.

Annabelle licked her lips as she recalled the many things she'd used, 
mostly for rubbing against, one or two for carefully inserting, pushing 
into herself until she could achieve a much needed orgasm.

Perhaps she was just na´ve, after all she had only just left school. 
Perhaps if she'd gone out with her friends more often she would have 
known more about some of those things, so perhaps it was just her. Having 
convinced herself it was her youth and naivety; Annabelle wandered back 
to the Wessex Hotel where she phoned her parents to tell them all was 
well, then returned to her room.

Standing in front of the wardrobe mirror she looked at herself, seeing in 
the reflection the same person who had just left home, and yet who had so 
quickly gained sexual enlightenment. 

She recalled how she had dressed up as a little girl and how willingly 
she had mounted that saddle. Her eyes fluttered as a blush swept across 
her face, yet it didn't stop her recalling the short and stout woman who 
had so easily bent her over a stool, indecently looking at her, parting 
her bottom before placing the vibrator at the moist mouth to her cunt.

Annabelle was panting, her face flushed and her clothes feeling tight hot 
and rough about her. She stripped from them hurriedly, casting fleeting 
glances at herself in the mirror as she undressed. 

Topless, she stopped to stare at her breasts. This is what Mr Barker 
would have seen, she thought, licking her lips as she remembered the view 
through the many mirrors. She gripped her left breast the way he had 
done, the same breast, yet her hand wasn't as large and strong. Still her 
thighs jerked together with the response from her squeezing fingers 
behind her nipple.

Staring at herself, she released her breast and attacked her skirt, 
quickly undoing it to stand in its puddle with just her panties on. More 
slowly, she gazed at herself as she lowered the final piece of clothing, 
slowly baring her pubis, her heart pounding as she exposed the apex of 
her slit, her vulva already glowing with excitement.

Her panties fell away, the gusset stained with all her bouts of 
excitement. They were ignored as she spread her feet apart the better to 
admire the curve of her vulva hanging between her thighs, labia broken 
apart by their swelling. 

Her cunt looked much the same as Janice's who had so readily slid down on 
the wooden spindle. Surely if Janice could ride a spindle, she thought, 
her eyes turning from her reflection to stare at the snake, half fallen 
from her bag.

Its tail was long and slender, thinner than her little finger and easily 
turned this way and that. Its head though had a taper that was only 
vaguely like that of a snake and, had it not been for the painted eyes, 
scales and tongue, anyone looking at it would have seen it for what it 
was; the sculptured wooden head of a cock. 

Annabelle stared at it, seeing its girth and how it swelled. With her 
breath shortened with the knowledge of what she intended to do she moved 
a chair in front of the mirror and sat down on it, shuffling her bottom 
forward until it was on the edge and she could lie back with her head and 
shoulders lifted by cushions. 

Opening her thighs she stared at herself, the brightness of her skin and 
the intricate coral like inner lips of her cunt amazed her. Her fingers 
ran down, smoothing and pulling, making her breath quicken with the sharp 
sensations of pleasure darting through her. 

Dipping between her lips she came across her wetness, the warm slippery 
juice ready to be spread across her crotch. A leg rose for her knee to 
perch on the armrest, uncomfortable until her flaming crotch caught all 
of her attention.

Did parents really buy these toys for their children, or had Mrs Harvey 
just been teasing her? She reached down and felt herself, watching her 
fingers work in the mirror, her chest aching with the need for a full 
breath of air.

The snake lay curled up on her belly, watching silently as she quickened 
the flow of slippery wetness from her cunt, her breath quickening with 
the dirty thoughts that awakened her.

Wide-eyed and ready, Annabelle gripped the snake behind its head and 
pushed it between her thighs. Fighting for breath, she raised her other 
leg, to help the snake push deeper into her.  

Staring at her reflection, Annabelle felt the sharp agony of her hymen 
being torn and bit her lip. A maniac stared back at her, pushing with 
each breath, forcing the cold wooden head of the toy snake into herself, 
then sobbing with delight as she felt it slip inside, its body holding 
her stretched.

Sobbing with the reality of her sexual awakening, Annabelle reached down 
for the body of the snake and drew it further into her, her mouth opening 
to gasp as a fresh flood of sensations spiralled up, into her body. She 
stopped to recover her breath, and then whimpered softly to herself as 
she pulled it out partially.

A whole new world of sensations opened up to her, a surge like nothing 
she'd ever felt before as she pushed the snake's head deeper and deeper 
into herself, an incredible flow as she drew it all but out.

In and out, staring at herself for as long as she could, before her need 
drove her to thrust it in again and hold it there while fingers sought to 
compress her slippery clitoris. 

Her orgasm clamped around the snakehead and her fingers beat mercilessly 
on her love button. Her legs and upper body rose, trying to meet each 
other around the maelstrom in her stomach, holding her at their limit 
until the explosion past and, exhausted, she was allowed to slump in the 
chair.  

Only vaguely aware, she felt the snake slip away and groaned at the 
emptiness it left behind. How could she have waited so long before truly 
impaling herself she wondered, remembering with a sense of relief and 
also trepidation that there was the whole of Sunday to come, but also 
that Monday would be upon her far to soon?