Anyone for Tennis, Dennis? Ch. 05: Day

Anyone for Tennis, Menace, Dennis?

By Nikki Kernovii

Chapter 5 -- Day Tripping.

Julie has a day out with Dennis

At 9 O'clock exactly, I heard a car pull up outside my cottage. It was a big limousine with tinted windows. A well-dressed, lady Chauffer in a smart, grey uniform and beautifully made-up face, got out. She walked towards the cottage, but as I came out, locking my door behind me, she returned to stand by the car.

She was pretty. Dark hair, coiled up beneath her grey Chauffer's cap. Shapely legs below her sharp, grey skirt. But flat black shoes. I suppose because of the driving. Maybe heels were not so good when you are driving a lot.

She nodded towards me then opened the back door of the car to let me get in.

I was surprised to find Dennis already in there. He waved me to the seat beside him. He was on his phone talking, and continued the conversation, ignoring me. He had one of those fancy, new, Apple, computer-phone- jobbies. Weird compared to my little, old, Nokia, flip-phone, 'Pay-as-you-go' thing that I hardly ever used.

My French had been improving, (from a very poor start), what with the Dictionary, and some casual lessons from Sarah, but there was no way I understood more than one word in fifty from his rapid conversation.

Once the driver was back in her seat, she looked over her shoulder. Dennis gave a hand signal to go, and we started to drive away.

As soon as we were beyond the village, I felt Dennis put his hand on my leg. I jumped, but then relaxed. He did not, even for a moment, stop his heated conversation on the phone. His hand travelled up my leg, under my skirt to my naked pussy.

He turned briefly in my direction to smile and nod his approval.

I am embarrassed to say that I was already damp to his touch.

It reminded me of the opening chapter of 'Roissy.'

So much like that car trip that Rene and O had taken on their way to the Chateau.

Our journey was just over an hour. Even when Dennis finished one conversation, he pressed a quick dial and started another. Not for one moment did he pay any attention to me other than keeping his hand moving on my ever-dampening pussy.

I was annoyed at the lack of conversation, but so damned aroused.

When we arrived at the passport office, the driver stopped and got out to open the door for me.

"Un moment." Dennis said into his phone and covered the microphone. He grabbed my hand.

"You have your papers and picture?" He asked me.

I nodded.

"To keep you warm for me." He said, as he handed me a peculiar object. I stared at it. There were two large ball-bearings on a cord. That is, if ball bearings were 2 inches in diameter.

"Ben-Wa." He said. "These go inside."

His smile was both disarming and quite lecherous.

"Inside. Like... In me?" I asked.

"Oui. You will enjoy."

OH Yes. I bet I will. And won't they be embarrassing?

Oh yes. That would be why he is making me do it.

"Now." He insisted.

I did consider turning away from him to afford me some privacy, but realised that it would not be what he wanted.

Very carefully, I spread my legs and eased the first ball between my pussy lips.

I was quite wet enough. I pushed until it slid passed the tight muscle and eased up inside, almost dragging the partner. That one slid in even more easily.

Bloody hell I felt full.

What a weird sensation.

"Un heur et demi. We return in one hour and a half." He said. He handed me a small bag. "If we are delayed."

Even as I took the bag, Dennis was back on the phone.

As soon as I was out of the Car, the driver shut the door. They drove off leaving me alone.

I noticed that as I walked, the balls moved. What did he call them? Ben... something.

Ben-ighted. Ben-dover. Ben-effical.

The passport office was boring formality.

At least the official was in a booth. I was sure that I could smell my pussy, and hear the bloody balls clinking, and just hoped that he could not.

The flunky interrogated me to ask 'JUST WHY did I need to rush a passport and not wait the eight weeks like everybody else?'

'Because a man who owns me, wants to take me to France to spank me and fuck me.' did not seem like the appropriate answer.

"I've won a holiday in France and need to go in a couple of weeks." I said. A close enough little lie so that I don't think I blushed.

The man took my completed form and pictures and passed them on to another flunky.

I sat in the corner and opened the bag Dennis had given me.

'Screw The Roses, Send Me The Thorns' by Philip Miller and Molly Devon.

I just knew, even from the title, that this would be another instruction manual for me from Dennis.

What now?

I tried to keep the cover down so that any staff passing by would not see it.

Three quarters of an hour, sitting there alone reading THAT book.

Every time I moved or crossed or un-crossed my legs, those bloody balls moved.

The book was an education into a whole new world in a morning. If I had not been wet before, I would have been oozing by then anyway. There was so much to learn. So much that was out of my previous boring existence.

So different. And so bloody exciting.

Nearly an hour after I had entered, I walked out of the building with my brand spanking (sorry!!) new passport. The first time I had one.

I was glad of the fresh air. I needed it.

So did my wet pussy.

I needed a break from the book. So, I just walked back and forth along the grass verge of the car park to try to cool down. Except that those Ben-things kept moving. I wasn't about to cool down.

It was not long to await until I saw the limousine arrive.

The driver opened the door for me as before.

I started to get in to the Limo, but seeing it empty I hesitated.

"Please. What is your name?"

"I am Remy." She said. She spoke English, with a French accent. But maybe less so than Dennis.

"Remy can you speak freely."

"To a point." She said guardedly.

"Oh. Well Ok. It is simple enough. How long have you worked for Dennis?"

"Ten years. Three years at his factory, before he saves my life. Since then I pay off my great debt. I do whatever he needs me for. When the debt is paid, I will ask to stay, if he will have me. "

"Why?"

"Because he is my cousin. Because I love him with all my heart. Because I owe him my life."

"Do you trust Dennis?" I asked.

"With my life and much more. You should not be asking these questions." She sounded a bit offended.

"I'm sorry. But thank you for being honest with me."

"I trust I am always honest. And Mr Dennis would never ask me to lie. You can trust him. As I trust him. He is a good man."

I found that comforting. Interesting, but comforting.

We drove for about half an hour back along the way we had come, before turning off to a small village. At a large house on the edge of the village, we stopped before a pair of large iron-gates. Remy spoke into the intercom and the gates opened for us.

She drove up to the steps leading to the house, then opened the car door for me and waved me towards the door.

I had no idea where we were or why we were there. Dennis does like to keep me in the dark

I pressed the door-bell.

A lady in a white, uniform-dress greeted me, "This way." She said.

She was expecting me?

I wasn't expecting me.

I was led to a small room with four, standard, upright chairs. This looked uncannily like a waiting room.

I'd been in one for an hour earlier.

What was I waiting for now?

I did not wait long.

A man in a suit opened a door

"Ah Miss Trimer. Good to see you. I'm Doctor Bernard." He said. (It sounded like Bear-Nard. Not Ber Nerd as it might be in English.) There was a trace of an accent, but he spoke good English. Better English than Dennis.

"Please come into my room." He pointed to the room he had come from.

'Said the spider to the fly.' Said a voice in my head.

I followed him in and sat in a very, comfortable, chair before his desk. It was a large, old-fashioned, wood, desk with a green, leather top, which was almost completely covered in paperwork.

"My friend Dennis Longechambon has asked me to take a good look at you." He said.

"I assure you that I am a qualified Doctor. In France and England. I can see the doubt on your face. You have a very lovely, but very expressive face." HE smiled a friendly smile. "I must ask you a lot of questions. Even if you find them difficult or embarrassing, I must ask you to please be honest with me. This is for your own good as well as for my report to Dennis." He fiddled with a fountain pen.

"Then I will have to do a thorough examination. I will be taking blood samples, and urine samples. If you would like a chaperon, I can ask my receptionist, Maggie, to stand in, if this will re-assure you."

"Errm No. I guess not. Dennis did kind of warn me. But not that this was today."

"Well not to worry. Here you are. Now if I may begin."

Full name, date of birth, general health, periods, birth-control, any known diseases, allergies, general diet and exercise, smoking, drinking, recreational drugs. These were all easy enough questions.

Apart from a being a modest social drinker, I had actually been a good little girl. Boring, but good.

"Now your sexual history." He said.

I had to list exactly, in embarrassing detail, what I had done with all of my boyfriends. (Not much beyond vanilla sex. Usually Missionary, 1 doggie and 1 cowgirl). This went on to include all the activities I had done with Dennis.

Gods! That was when it got even more embarrassing. (And damned if I didn't get wet just thinking about it. I think my pussy likes embarrassing me as well.)

When he had finished writing a version of war and peace about my life, we moved on to the physical exam.

I never did like needles, but I managed to look the other way when he drew the blood samples.

Going for a pee to get the urine sample was actually welcome. I didn't find a public toilet at the passport office and it had been a long morning. I decided to remove the damn-balls for the next bit.

It was then that I had to go behind the screen to undress.

The Doctor really meant it when he said thorough. He prodded and poked me everywhere.

"I note that you are already sexually aroused." He said. "Was that something in particular, or is this normal for you?"

I had to admit that it certainly hadn't been normal for the previous 24 years of my life, but did seem to be becoming more normal since -- well, since meeting Dennis.

I also had to tell him about my morning. Dennis's hand in the car, No underwear and those bloody Ben-thingy balls.

"Ahh. I think I understand." Said the good doctor with a knowing smile.

Bugger, if that didn't make me even wetter.

"There are some dark marks on your derriere, which look like bruises." He said. "These are from your most recent- ehhumm - Spanking?"

"Probably." I said, still face down on his examination table, hiding my blush.

"And these were?" He asked.

"Saturday." I managed to squeak out.

"You heal well. Excellent. Such a shame that my professional services do not include that. Such a spankable bottom." He patted me gently. "I can see why Dennis is so obsessed. You have had a remarkable effect on him."

'What?' I had? What?

"You may get dressed." The Doctor said at last, moving away.

Dressed is a relative term, as I still had no underwear. I decided that I better return the huge balls to their storage tube. That is - inside me.

Dennis might not approve if I left them out.

Ha! Who was I kidding? They were damned exciting.

"I am happy to report that everything seems satisfactory." The Doctor said, as I returned from behind the screen. "I will get the blood and urine tests back from the labs in a couple of days." He added. "I see no reason why you should not continue with your chosen life style." He said cheerfully. "Be careful, but go explore."

He crossed the room and opened the door.

I walked out, bewildered.

What did that mean?

The receptionist saw me to the front door. Remy was still there by the car reading a book.

"Done." She said, looking up. "On to the next call."

What was the next call?

I took a deep breath. He does like to keep me on my toes.

I sat back in the car and returned to reading the book Dennis had given me.

The next call turned out to be not very far from the last one.

Remy turned the car into a small industrial-estate on the edge of the town.

At the very end of a row of industrial units was a bland green unit with no company signs or marks.

Remy parked in the only remaining parking space.

She opened then closed the car door for me, then walked to the door of the factory and opened the side door there.

At first, I was blinded by the change from the blazing sunshine outside, contrasting with the dimness of the factory inside.

"Ahh Miss Trimer." A small mousey man said as he appeared out of the gloom. "This way. This way. We will soon be ready for you. Almost ready."

Ready for me? For what? And how did he know my name?

The smell of leather and glue and other industrial stinks assaulted my nostrils.

I blinked and sniffed.

"Come on. Come on. This way. This way." He ushered me into a room to the side of the unit.

In the far corner, in front of a huge mirror, was Dennis, being fitted with a jacket.

A huge surge of relief washed over me.

I was back on firm ground after the last couple of hours of quicksand.

Dennis glanced in my direction. He smiled. I melted.

A guy who looked like a Tailor of some sort was adjusting the jacket and smoothing the shoulders.

On closer inspection it looked like it was made of a soft, brown, leather. It looked like it fit him and made him look even more -- manly. Distinguished.

The mousey man approached Dennis, gave an obsequious bow and muttered something out of my hearing. Dennis said something back and nodded.

The mousey man returned towards me.

"Your jacket, please miss." The little man asked.

"What? Why?" I turned back surprised.

"So I can measure. I need to measure. Must get the sizes right. Your jacket?"

What a funny little man.

I didn't know what it was I was being measured for, but I shrugged off my jacket.

The little man pulled a tape measure from his breast pocket and pulled it around my chest.

He could just have asked. I knew what size I was.

Maybe it was just an excuse for him to get his hands on my tits in passing.

He wrote the numbers on a little pad from his pocket.

He repeated the exercise with my waist and hips, then from my hips to under my arm.

All of this got scribbled, quickly into his little note-book.

"I have a few things that might fit that size. But, of course, it would be better to make it just for you. Just for you. Always better special. Something special just for you." With that, he hurried away like a mouse running for a hole in the skirting.

I was bewildered.

When he returned, he held several packages.

"Your top please." He said as he placed the packages on a desk nearby.

"What?" I looked at him.

"You will need to remove your top to try these on. Can you remove your top. Please remove your top. Soon have you fitted. Oh yes. Soon." He spoke as fast as he scurried.

I unbuttoned my top. I had to believe that Dennis was somehow responsible for this.

"ooooh nice." The little man said. "Very nice. Oh yes these will look loooovely." He was staring at my tits. Lecherous little mouse.

What he unpacked, looked like a leather corset. Something I had seen in catalogues and adverts. Not something I had ever bought, or even considered buying. Were these what they called Basques?

I was no expert.

The man pulled the corset around my waist, having another grope at my breasts as he started to fasten the clips at the front.

Once the dozen or so clips were connected, he bustled around behind me and pulled, what I guessed were, the laces. I felt the corset tighten around me. He started at the top, working his way down, pulling and squeezing. Then he moved to the bottom of the corset and worked back up to the middle.

This process continued three more times, until I was almost gasping for breath. I felt my breasts being squeezed in and up, until they threatened to spill over the top of the corset. The satin lining was rubbing my nipples, which had pinged out to prominence at my exposure. My waist felt like my tummy button was being pushed into my spine. I was glad I had so recently been to the toilet, or I would have made a mess on the floor.

"Does... it... have... to... to... be... so... tight?" I managed to gasp out.

"Oh yes. Oh yes. That is the purpose. That is what a corset is for. Such a nice shape. Oh yes." Mr mouse said.

I could see Dennis look over at me. He smiled and nodded.

If he liked it, I would have it. At the moment I was not sure if I was going to enjoy it.

Mr Mouse looked in Dennis's direction, probably for guidance, as Dennis nodded to him.

"Lovely. Lovely. You will like this. Quite Lovely." He bustled. I don't remember ever using that word in my life, but this man bustled.

I gasped with relief as I felt the laces loosen.

I blew out and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the leather.

Mousey man left me holding the leather corset while he unpacked another. The one I was holding was in a beautiful, soft, black, leather. The one he now opened was almost the same shape and style but in a deep, burgundy-red.

We went through the same routine again, with him having another grope of me as he fitted and adjusted the red corset.

I learned to breathe shallow and fast to keep from fainting.

I swear he tightened this one even tighter.

Once it was fitted and I was gasping, Dennis looked over, then beckoned for me to join him.

He held my shoulders and posed me in front of the eight-foot by four-foot mirror on the wall that he had been using.

I was surprised at the exaggerated curve of my body. The way my breasts were pushed up and forward, my waist was way narrower than I believed possible. I did look good.

I liked the look. I could see why guys would like the look.

I did wonder if I liked the look enough to put up with the pressure.

"You like?" Dennis asked.

"I'm not sure." I said.

"You prefer the black?" He asked.

I had not seen the black one in the mirror. But if it fit like the red one, then yes, I did prefer the black one.

I liked black. I think it also felt softer.

"Yes." I said honestly enough.

"Anton. Noir." Dennis said over his shoulder.

"And a custom?" The mousey man, who I assumed must be Anton, Asked.

"Oui. Avec boucles de verrouillage."

"Ohh. Well done, Sir. Excellent choice, Sir. Love the locks myself, Sir. At once, Sir. Oh yes."

Gods! What an obsequious arse licker.

I had disliked him on sight, I really didn't want to be here another moment.

Anton led me back to the far side of the room and proceeded to remove the red corset.

As soon as I had breathed deeply once I was free, Anton began doing up the black corset again.

"What?" I shrieked. "Why?"

"As Sir has asked." Anton said. "Suits you miss. Suits you. Lovely." He continued lacing me in again.

Bugger.

It seemed that Dennis had finished whatever transaction he was doing on the far side of the room and came over to look at me.

"Excellent. I like this." He said, running his hands over my leather clad body.

I liked that.

"Merci Anton. Jusqu'à la prochaine fois. " Dennis said over his shoulder.

"Certainly Sir. Look forward to it, Sir. Enjoy your purchases sir."

Dennis picked up my blouse and jacket, then, taking my hand, led me out to the car.

I felt like I was going out in public in my underwear.

I was nearly naked.

That was an odd thought, considering it had been a couple of weeks now, since I had worn any underwear.