Pauline's Diaries

Red high heels with open toes and long straps going round my ankles, twice, bare legs and a white summer dress with big pink roses on seem to have my brother in law's attention. I'm not wearing a bra not with this dress. It's very low cut, and there is a vast expanse of breast, and a deep tight cleavage for him to ogle. I've even pinned my hair up out of the way so my tits are even more exposed. My nipples feel like rockets firing out through the silky dress. My only mistake is I should have worn panties, because my pussy is wet as hell!

I'm sat on his desk as he sits in the chair. I'm giggling a lot, and his smile is the only sign I need to know that we are going to fuck. I pull the thin straps down off my shoulders. The front of my dress sags, and the only thing stopping my tits from being in full view is my dress catching up on hard nipples. He pulls himself forward and tugs the front of my dress down. I giggle, as his lips clamp on my left nipple, while his fingers dig in the flesh of my right breast. I groan with delight as he sucks and bites my nipple. He mumbles with a mouthful of nipple that I have incredible tits. He plays with my huge breasts for a while, and then pulls out his cock. He stands up and I put my feet on the arms of his chair.

He's in me now, and fucking me like I've dreamed of. I don't know when this obsession started, it feels like quite recently, but I'm sure I've wanted him for years. He's panting and grunting in my ear. He tells me he wants to come on my fabulous tits. I giggle and tell him he can do better than that. I push him back in his chair, and then I kneel down, grab my tits, and imprison his cock in my cleavage. I start bouncing them up and down.

"Oh fuck...Sylvia I don't get this at home."

"Well, it's your lucky day," I reply with a laugh.

My tits are bouncing faster and faster. I can see his cock head appear and disappear in my cleavage.

"I'm going to catch you in my mouth," I pant.

"Holy fuck!"

After a few seconds his hole opens and then wham! Hot spunk fires in my mouth, I just keep my mouth open letting it dribble back out, and onto my tits. He squirts out a few more thick white strands, one hits my cheek, a second hits my mouth again, and then one goes up my left nostril. Hey I'm snorting spunk!

He falls back in his chair and stares at my spunk drenched tits.

"Christ there's a lot of it," I say with a beaming smile.

I see a wet blob on the tip of his cock, I dip my nipple in it, and then I suck his cock clean.

"Fuck you're disgusting," he says with a chuckle.

I smile, and sit on his desk and finger myself.

"No darling, this is disgusting," I say as I come.

I get up and a piece of paper is stuck to my bare ass.

"You'll have to reprint this to send to your client," I say chuckling.

We laugh.

Doctor Trent.

I've been stupid. I don't normally let my feelings cloud my judgement. I have received the recording of Sylvia with her brother in law, and I've phoned Paul to tell him to delete it from his file, and to forget what happened.

I toyed with the idea of letting Sylvia keep her memory of it, but quickly dismissed it. I did let her keep it as a fantasy, in which she would remember it vividly as just a fantasy, which will play on her mind whenever she sees her brother in law.

I'm thinking about my mind chip now, to get away from my thoughts of Sylvia. The first implant went well for a few days. The men in the ministry liked it. We sent an undercover agent, doing what I don't know, on an operation. The operation was a success, it was only when he returned from his mission, and I wiped the chip in his head to forget everything, that the chip fried his brain. He foamed at the mouth, convulsed, and his eyes bulged until it killed him, interesting. I have theories on why that happened, one being I downloaded his memory too quickly, and when I fed him a false memory for his next mission, he couldn't cope. Subject number two at this very moment is having a memory put in his head. I know he is going to one of the Arabic states, and any memory of being in the secret service has been erased, so that if he is captured and tortured he won't reveal a thing.

I know people in high places and I could have easily told them I murdered Dora and they would have cleaned up, but I'm looking at the bigger picture. When my mind control chip is perfected, who is to say I can't sell it to other countries? Hence tiding up my own mess, because if anyone knew how Dora met her end, I might not be so powerful.

Sylvia.

I went out day, god knows where, and gods knows why my white flowery dress is in the washing machine. I do know that I had one intense fantasy about Paul, in which I was wearing that same dress. I think I fell asleep, and maybe I was still half a sleep when I put my dress in the washing machine. I wonder if sex with Paul would be like I imagined. One things for sure, my sis would kill me if I told her I had a fantasy about him and me. I should go shopping but I'll spend a little time reading about my grandmother. Now where was I?

Day two at the brothel, and I notice Candy has her two buddies round her. Again the two girls are dressed as maids. I asked Kenny about them and he told me, Candy has a thing for them in their uniforms, she has them do her bidding, and when there are no customers I would find Candy, and the two girls, amusing themselves.

Mar the Chinese girl has come to me again, and thanked me for the hot water for their bath. Mar cannot seem to manage my surname. To her I am Mrs Cock, which amuses the other girls. I took Mar to a shop, suggesting she should wear traditional Chinese dress for the clients. The man behind the counter seemed familiar to me, yellow hair and dressed rather gaily. I told him what I wanted, but he just stood staring for a moment. He told me he knew me, and he was Tom, Mr Harrington-Brown's number two, in my court case. I did not repel him because of that. I told him I was a business woman who wanted a cheap, but sexy Chinese dress for Mar. He told me he had nothing in stock but would make me something. He took Mar's measurements, as I went round the shop.

Tom told me he made all the dresses, and he was not suited to law, he said he had found his hobby a fruitful one. I'll admit the clothes were very good and some outfits I liked for myself.

I bought a red miniskirt and matching jacket with huge white buttons.

Tom gave me a card, with "Tom's Dresses" on it. I did think at the time that he might be the type to wear them, and the name of his shop was quite apt. Tom said he would do the Chinese dress for as cheap as possible. I thanked him and he wiggled his way to the door, and opened it for me.

It was odd telling him I was a business woman. I want to be, but my confidence as posing as such is not as I would wish, but having told you that dear diary, I know it will grow.

I do not want to show favouritism to Mar, or any other of the girls. In fact my priority is to gain favour with Candy. When I returned to the brothel Kenny was shoving a man out into the street. The man told Kenny his brothel was the worst he had ever visited. I took a deep breath, and not knowing really what I was going to do, I asked the gentleman to the office.

I had the man remove his jacket and one of the girls washed the splatter of sick from it. I gave him a full refund, after he had told me what had happened. I found the girl, a woman with no real beauty and a missing tooth. Her hair was a mess and her breasts grubby. She had a cut above her eye and a bruised cheek. I asked if the man had thumped her causing her tooth to fall out. She laughed and I saw two more holes where teeth should have been. She pulled on the whisky bottle, and I grabbed it away from her. I had one of the girls get her belongings, and took her to the office.

I told the whore, she was no long employed here, and gave her £20. She protested but I was in full management mode. She was told with as strong a voice as I could muster, that I would not have my whores drunk on duty, and then throwing up on paying gentlemen as they had intercourse. Well dear diary, I should write that as I said it, "I won't have a drunken whore puking on a client in the middle of a fuck!"

She protested but I had Kenny throw her out. Candy gave me a little nod like she approved, and then whispered I shouldn't have paid her. Some of the girls murmured discontent, but I had the bit between my teeth, and I then told them, I would not tolerate any such things happening again.

Candy asked me what I was going to do about the clients who would prefer to beat my whores, rather than fuck them. I thought for a moment and told them I would speak to my husband about getting a bouncer to take care of such men. She said, "We won't hold our breaths on that Mrs Cox," She turned and left with her two friends in their maids outfits.

Dear diary, day three at the brothel turned out to be a day I will never forget. When I arrived just before lunch time it was quiet. Luke, who works behind the bar, told me the girls had gone out. Apart from Candy and her two little tarts.

I saw one man leave in a huff. I went up the stairs, and there she was reclining on her bed, while her two little friends sat painting her toenails. I told them to get to work, as one gentleman had already left. They laughed and Iris said they had gone on strike. Candy just watched me for a moment. This time I shouted at them to get downstairs. My voice was not as commanding as I hoped. Eventually Candy told them to leave, and they did. They passed me, giving me silly little smiles.

Candy stood and came right up to me. She looked me in the eye and said I had upset the girls by taking Mar to a dress shop. Mar had told them all, she was getting a new dress, and the girls were jealous. Candy told me she had sent them to the cinema. She said it was her pussy most of the men came for, and she had more control over the girls than I ever would.

Dear diary I was fuming, for a 19 year old she is so sure of herself, and I had heard she refused men she did not like. She has the best room and the best of everything in it. She told me Sandra and she had an arrangement, and if I wanted the girls to behave, then I should offer her something myself. She smiled and returned to her bed, running her fingers through her hair. She said she would have the girls return to work that night, if I got on my knees and begged her. Or would I rather Sandra was told I had been in and upset everyone.

I stood my ground for a while, but she sat there quite calmly. I asked her in a civil tone if she would please ask the girls to return to work. She pointed to the floor, and begrudgingly, I got to my knees. She instructed me to crawl to the bed, and beg. For a moment I wanted to hit her, but I crawled towards the bed. She scooted to the edge of the bed and pulled her skirt up. Her pussy was inches from my face, and I could not help but stare, she was hairless!

I had heard of women shaving themselves, but I had no idea Candy had. She put her legs up on the bed, bent, so her feet touched her backside, and then she opened her knees. I would not have gazed so much, but I could see a metal clip dangling out of pussy. She said if I took hold of the metal clip and pulled it out with my teeth, she would have the girls return to work, and tell me a way to get rid of Sandra. She was amused by the way I was stuck running things over in my head. She added that my husband would want Sandra gone just as much as I did, if she told me what she knew. She said it would leave the path open for me to become the new madam.

Dear diary, I slowly moved my head forward and gripped the metal clip. My lips came into contact with her pussy, and she flexed herself forward a little. I pulled slowly on the clip, and watched as a round plastic bead emerged for between her legs, then another, and another, and another. She moaned a little as each purple bead came from her pussy, until the last one plopped out. She laughed and got off the bed leaving me knelt there looking quite ridiculous, with a string of purple beads hanging from my mouth.

She took the beads and went into her adjoining bathroom. I heard her washing them, and then she returned drying them with a cloth. I was stood by now, and feeling my face burn like it was a furnace. She winked at me and dropped the beads in my bag, telling me it was a little gift from her to me.

I had been speechless for quite a while, and my lips still tingled with the taste of her pussy. She told me she liked me, and it was nice that we understood each other. I really did not understand anything. She told me she wanted her daily payment, which she had arranged with Sandra Smith, raised from £10 a day to £25. We agreed on £20, or else I would not only have to explain why the girls went on strike, but also why the best pussy in the brothel had left to go to the brothel on Green Avenue!

After what happened you'll understand why I will never forget that day, but what she told me next puts the above in the shade. She told me she had heard Sandra on the phone talking to someone about my baby. Candy said she did not get all of the details, but she heard through the door that Sandra would make the delivery for £1000. Candy remembers Sandra telling the caller; Pauline would pay a huge price to get her child back, so why bother with making her sign a confession to say that I had murdered Mr Taylor. Candy said she did not know who Sandra was talking to, but she heard her say, "Tell Ms Taylor it is a pleasure doing business with her."

Dear diary I felt ill. I slumped on the bed, and things I have not told you came back into my head. I saw Mr Taylor's other daughter in town a few months ago. She told me, as a warning, her sister would stop at nothing to get even with me, and she glanced at the pram and then left.

Candy brought me a glass of water, and a tissue for my tears. After a few minutes I stood up, and told her I would deal with it. She rubbed my arm in a sympathetic manner.

My husband returned the next day, from his trip with the whore who would take my child. I told him and he said he would sort it. He even told me Sandra had asked if she could see our baby. For two days I slept in Helen's room, I would not let her out of my sight, even Mrs Bain was not allowed out with Helen on her own.

September 19th.

Last night we had a visit from the police. It seems the office and two adjoining rooms at the brothel burned down. The house is owned by husband so the police had come to inform him. The policeman told us that unfortunately a woman had perished in the fire. The policeman told us he was told by one of the girls, only one woman was missing, Miss Sandra Smith, and they are very sure the body is hers. The policeman said my husband should visit the house in the morning, and that the girls had been taken to a hotel for the night. He added that a safe in the room where the body had been found was wide open, and held no contents. The policeman then left.

We got back into bed and I asked Albert if he knew anything about the fire. Maybe I should rip this page out, but I'm not going to. He simply said, "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."

I cuddled him and we slept.

My husband loves his daughter, and what father would not protect their child from such dangerous people.

September 22nd.

My husband has told me that it was Sandra Smith's body in the brothel. He said he was to blame for putting us at risk. He said he wouldn't let anything happen to our child, and how sorry he was for hurting me by going with her. I don't love Albert like a wife should, but I respect him deeply for what he said. I told him I would make him proud of me, and I would step in once the brothel was up and running, and run it myself. He told me Candy had said I had a few good ideas, and he was willing to let me try and run it. He said also that Mrs Bain knew a couple who had lost their small child to whooping cough.

That was the last entry in my grandmother's diary for that year, and there was nothing until February in 1971.

February 24th.

Hello 1971! I could not bear to write anything until now. I never wanted to lose Helen, but two days after her birthday, she went off to her new life with the Salmon's who had lost their child to whooping cough. Mrs Bain, who had minded their child who was a two months older than Helen, arranged everything. The Salmon's are a young couple, and could not take their affectionate eyes off my beautiful daughter. I had many tears over the last few weeks, my husband also. The Salmon's have gone back to Ireland, taking Helen as their child. I know from their look of love in their eyes they will bring up Helen with love and affection, and that fact now helps me sleep at night. It is a sorry state off affairs, but it's the only way I can be sure of her safety, away from Ms Taylor.

March 3rd.

I would erase talk of my daughter in your pages, should the Taylor's some how get hold of you, but I will not because she is, or maybe I should say was, the best part of my life. She will be told who she is when she grows up. Just because this is the last mention of my daughter in this diary, it does not mean I will stop loving her. I will forever have a hole in my heart which will only be filled when I see my Helen again.

As for the evil Ms Taylor, should you somehow find this diary, I laugh in your face, because I have used a fictitious name, the Salmon's is not their real name! So rot in hell Edith Taylor, you fucking old cow, and know I will dance on your grave until I'm exhausted!

March 8th.

Yesterday was my 26th birthday. My husband took me to the brothel and announced to the girls I was in full charge. Candy and her two friends are back, and Mar, but the rest we had let go. Candy and Mar worked out of a hotel during the rebuilding of our, sorry my establishment. Every room has been decorated, and where possible much of it was down to my taste and invention. I sat behind my new desk for a while just taking in my office. I sat there alone, and for the first real time realised that this is my new position in life. A couple of years ago I would have been horrified to think about something like this, but I sat there as the madam of a brothel, which I want to make in to the best brothel in the whole country!

I even have the combination to my new safe. Even as I stared at it, I wondered what happened to the contents of the last safe. While I don't want to think about it, I do wonder if my husband had the safe cleared before the fire was started. If so he will have the rest of those photographs, of which I took one from each set. The photographs I have will now be put in the safe at the brothel, at a future date.

My husband has eyes for Candy, but part of me does not care. Maybe all along I have known he fucked not just Sandra Smith, but the whores too. I have what I want, apart from one thing, but she is safe now.

I have collected rent for my husband, and I'm sure his tenants look at me as a money grabbing bitch when I take their hard earned money off them, as much as I did when Mr Cox would visit my house for the rent my ex husband and I paid him. One woman, Mrs Dickinson, called me an arrogant snob, when I told her she needed her husband to sort out the garden, and my husband would be over next week, and he would not take kindly to such a mess.

I own a car too, a little red MG B Sports made last year in 1970. It has a black roof which I can put down in the summer. It not only has a radio, but a cassette too! My husband gave it to me as yet another birthday gift. It is a devil to get out off in short skirts, but that does not bother me. In fact only today as the man in the garage filled it with petrol; he got a glimpse up my skirt as I stepped out.