Vanessa Embarks on a Journey into Unknown Territory & Expands Her Social Circle

Author's Foreword & Acknowledgement

This story is purely an erotic, fictional fantasy, developed solely from the present author’s weird imagination. The events & individuals portrayed are completely fictional & not based on any actual real-life cases from either group to my knowledge.

The following story is set in a particular context, & partly describes a group of lower class residents in their struggle against the, apparently, irresistible forces represented by ‘big money’ land developers & the upper class elite.

This story is presented largely through the lens of the main upper class character, Vanessa, it is her kinky fetishes that largely cause events to unfold as they do. The story should probably be best viewed as a kind of erotic, fairy tale allegory. The class stereotypes, & the low levels [in this author’s opinion] of physical & sexual domination described, will possibly not be to all readers’ tastes—please avoid if offended by such descriptions.

This is my first attempt at writing a full story, & I have a lot to learn. I have only contributed a few chapters to another author’s story before this, & I found that a daunting enough baptism. Constructive points of advice & criticism will be gratefully received.

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Thanks to Sergio, for the cover picture and encouragement.

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A Brief Introduction to the Main Protagonists & Background to the Story

The story is told from two different perspectives, & two sets of main protagonists. On the one hand we have Vanessa, the eldest daughter of a super-rich English family, plus some family members & some of her equally affluent friends. Vanessa is very much at the front & center of the story.

The second is a disparate group of lower middle & working class people, rather than a single individual, though a couple of them do play a prominent role. The group consist, mostly, of residents of a housing complex of mixed privately-owned & council-rented residential flats & houses near the center of London.

The principal landlord, the local council, had decided to sell its share of the estate’s housing stock to a land development group. The council was engaged in re-locating its tenants to other estates, whilst the private company had initiated a round of compulsory purchase orders to clear the estate of the remaining owner-residents. The departure of the original residents had also led to various other groups being sucked-in by the social issue itself, & also the accompanying partial ‘people vacuum’—which resulted in an even more socially diverse group joining the residents, for a range of personal reasons & political solidarity with them.

This rehousing process would be, eventually, followed by the demolition of the housing stock and the re-development of the land for the building of new, high value, luxury residential accommodation, mostly in gated complexes.

Story Prequel—5 Years before the start of the Main Story—A Summer Day in London

It was a hot summer day & sitting at a park bench in central London, sensuously rolling her tongue around a softening ice cream cornet, was a young lady contemplating her imminent departure to university & the start of her degree studies. As was her style, she was sublimely dressed in an expensive, exclusive, silk-print summer dress, with her long, crossed-legs & feet adorned with 4” Jimmy Choo stilettos. Vanessa’s thoughts soon drifted from boring, academic notions, to hoping she would soon meet like-minded girlfriends, with similar interests in shopping for expensive, high fashion clothes & jewellery. She also knew her impeccable fashion sense would help attract suitable boyfriends, & filter potential husbands, who could maintain her present, pampered, exotic lifestyle. Suddenly, Vanessa’s attention was grabbed by the sound of a voice. A shabbily dressed, middle-aged woman had sat down, & immediately addressed her totally contrasting looking bench mate:

“What a pretty dress. Looks very expensive ….. surely, the lovely young lady can spare some loose change for a poor, old woman?”

“Well, I’ll see what I have ….” answered Vanessa, but the old woman soon interrupted her.

“So kind …. I knew the pretty lady had a kind heart.”

And at the same time, the older lady extended her arm in Vanessa’s direction, and gently rolled the finger tips, on her right hand, near the hemline of the younger woman’s stylish dress. The rough & calloused fingers, briefly brushed Vanessa’s leg, at the knee, before being quickly withdrawn.

"Sorry, my dear … no offense intended … but is that a silk dress? Must’ve cost a fortune …. You must have something to spare a poor lady?"

Vanessa’s head was spinning, whilst feeling appalled by this scruffy woman, who had dared to touch her pristine & expensive designer dress, she’d also become aware of the woman’s stale body odor, which was by now invading her nose. But she was also only too conscious of a strange, tingling feeling in her groin, a feeling of growing excitement, & a sudden sensation of her heart pounding away. She’d previously felt these sensations in her various flings with several putative boyfriends, but she’d never been sexually attracted to girls at her all-girls school. So why was she responding physically to this unattractive, badly-dressed & smelly old woman? Before she could address this question, she was shaken out of her distracted state, as the old woman spoke again.

“You alright, my dear? … Are you gonna check your purse? … Your ice cream is starting to melt ….”

Without speaking Vanessa held out her ice cream, for the woman to briefly hold, & reached for her purse in her Fendi shoulder bag. She extracted a £20 note, & silently handed it over, taking the ice cream back with her second hand. The old woman, also silently, reached out, not just eagerly grabbing the note, but taking the chance to slowly run her fingers up the full length of Vanessa’s hand. As she snatched the note, the old woman stood-up, stared into Vanessa’s face, smiled & said,

“I’ll tell my friends about you …. If you want to meet them, just come back here …. I think you’re a giving person ….”

And with an audible laugh, the old woman turned & walked off down the path.

Vanessa’s eyes followed the woman, totally baffled by the conflicted sensations of repulsion & excitement racing round her head. She found herself wishing that old woman had extended those dirty, calloused fingers under her dress, fondled her La Perla panties, & even explored beneath & beyond. Suddenly, she was shaken out of her near trance … the cold sensation of dripping ice dream running down her hand & forearm. While reaching for a tissue, Vanessa also became aware of a wet sensation invading those delicate, expensive panties. She also stared at a small, smudge mark on her dress, where the woman’s hand made that first contact, & felt another rush. Blaming the hot weather for her feeling of irrational horniness, she discarded the ice cream & quickly returned home.

That night, while restlessly turning on her Egyptian, high thread cotton sheets, her discomfort heightened by a warm, airless atmosphere, Vanessa tried unsuccessfully to shake off the afternoon’s events. How and why could a beautiful young woman like her, from an incredibly wealthy family, at the very pinnacle of 21st century British society, harbor such thoughts? It was impossible to comprehend the sudden frisson of excitement that electrified her entire body on feeling that woman’s rough fingers. The sensation caused by that first touch, amplified by the subsequent longer stroking motion along her hand. Then there was her voice, & that somehow, knowing sense, conveyed in her words, as if she was aware of Vanessa’s internal reactions. Surely, these thoughts were irrational, & she must be confusing this woman with Seb, her current boyfriend. But no, no matter how hard she tried to rationalize the feelings in her head, she kept returning to her sense of frustration, just wishing those fingers had continued to roam over her body. It was incomprehensible, but if that old woman had asked for her “lovely dress”, she would have hypnotically complied. And with that thought, Vanessa found herself vigorously pumping her fingers in her rapidly moistening slit, & following a longer than usual orgasm, she soon drifted, ecstatically, into a deep sleep.

In the ensuing period Vanessa found no answers as to why she wished to surrender herself to a scruffy woman from the opposite end of the social spectrum—she just did, & masturbation had rarely been this rewarding, as she played around in her head various ways of ‘giving’ herself up, first her clothes, then her stylish accoutrements, & finally her body. She even returned to the park, dressed in typically expensive outfits from her extensive wardrobe, but was careful to stay back & observe that bench from a distance. She noticed the regular presence of several equally scruffy women, wondering what role that ‘first contact’ woman had played in their presence, & whether they too hoped to benefit from her almost ‘auto reflexive’ generosity. To her relief, her rational side kept reminding her there was no way she could follow through. Where could it lead? How could she ensure events wouldn’t spiral out of control & put her in a potentially highly & dangerous position? Yes, it was all just too crazy to contemplate any further. Instead, she found herself experimenting with Seb, imagining him to be the old woman, & almost role playing the submissive surrender of her body. Seb, completely ignorant of Vanessa’s inner feelings, was only too happy to move their relationship in this perfectly enjoyable direction for him, a teenage sexual novice. He’d started to tire of Vanessa’s ice-queen, spoiled persona & this, more ‘available’ disposition, briefly revived the flames of their ultimately doomed relationship.

As the weeks turned into months, Vanessa commenced her university life, & Seb was soon history, replaced by a rotating parade of over-privileged rich boys, mostly from her elite college. Vanessa’s quest for true sexual satisfaction was, though, substantially unfulfilled. Occasionally, she would allow herself to slip into her sexual fantasy world. She was absolutely certain she wasn’t a lesbian. She had not been sexually attracted to the bevy of beauties at her school, & again not now, at university, even after the odd drunken kiss with girlfriends. She reasoned that, as they were, mostly, her social peers, they failed to meet the key requirement of her particular kink. And she enjoyed heterosexual sex, indeed with some relish, as she sought out new partners to experiment with &, hopefully, provide that ‘spark’ she sought. There was a parallel aspect to seeking sexual fulfillment with a series of boyfriends. To help deter her from ever following up on her particular fetish, Vanessa developed an unfortunate attitude in her relationships with people, especially women, who were from outside her social peer group, almost as a kind of ‘safety shield’. This took the form of a snooty & dismissively rude attitude to those who were less well off, leading to her firing off ice-cold, laser glares from her blue eyes, reinforced with some dismissive words when required. She would still drop high value notes on the floor when approached by beggars, as a summary reminder of the chasm between them & herself, & accelerate away.

Naturally, Vanessa also contemplated her feelings towards the final combination—men from the other end of the social spectrum. To her relief, she only felt completely appalled at the thought, & never entertained such a notion in her fantasy world, except for a single scenario. In this case, she dreamed of having passed out, drunk in an alley, being groped & stripped of her expensive clothes by a homeless man. Fortunately, before he could go any further, he would be chased off by a group of homeless females, who instead of rescuing her, merely divided her belongings & subjected her to an extended session of sexual humiliation in a squalid setting. Being insulted, robbed & sexually dominated & humiliated by her social opposites was, indeed, her ultimate, sexual nirvana fantasy. And she convinced herself, that in her head was where it must remain, safely quarantined from the reality of her pampered, securely wrapped-in-luxury lifestyle.

A Brief Excursus

In the 17th to 19th centuries, it was common for the sons of rich, aristocratic families, all over Europe, to embark on a ‘Grand Tour’ of the continent. This was a ‘rite of passage’ of those times—the chance to visit & experience sights & centers of high culture, history, art—plus, of course, more intimate ones of a sexual nature. The tour would ‘top off’ their education before those sons transitioned into the serious day job—maintaining their families’ position at the top of society.

This story offers a kind of 21st century alternative, ‘urban capsule’ tour—much narrower in scope, a small part of one city, & a much reduced range of experiences, but with a key component retained!

Main Story Commences—5 Years later …. Summer, London

Vanessa Brocklehurst-Spencer, 23, was the eldest daughter of Richard & Caroline. Her father was a well-known property developer & hedge fund partner. His business empire had grown in conjunction with the ongoing gentrification and transformation of both, former industrialized centers & ageing working class housing estates, in several large cities all over the UK. He was a billionaire, having benefited accordingly from his lucrative property & business empire. The spin-off benefits also included marrying into ‘old’ English aristocracy.

Caroline was the single daughter of the Marquess of Clare. This long-ennobled line had, lately, suffered a series of hefty duties & fallen on tougher times. The family’s diminishing fortunes had required Caroline to exploit her connections, ‘upper class’ breeding & natural beauty to build a financially rewarding career as a world famous model & photographers’ muse. She had stated, in an interview with Tatler, that ‘I would not miss my morning ride on my horse for a shoot that pays less than £5k’, several years before Linda Evangelista’s more notorious ‘not getting out of bed…’ quote. Caroline used to think she was probably ahead of her time, and top British models never enjoyed the same level of publicity & fame as their North American ‘supermodel’ counterparts!

Vanessa benefited, in particular, from two aspects of her parentage: her father’s money & wealth supported a luxurious, if not decadent lifestyle, reinforced by the biological bonus of inheriting her mother’s renowned beauty & long legs. Vanessa was truly blessed—just a shame that she failed to put her good fortune to anything particularly useful to the world at large. Unless, that is, contributing large sums of money to the coffers, & profits, of several fashion houses & jewelers, could be considered a ‘worthy’ cause. ‘After all,' she mused, ‘I am, probably, personally responsible for keeping quite a few of their workers in employment.’

As a consequence of her wealth, aristocratic breeding, & socialite lifestyle, Vanessa B-S, was used to most people she encountered, outside her social circle elite, being deferential & even obsequious. She had a well-earned reputation as a ‘premium bitch’, who used her power & influence to get members of the lower classes summarily dismissed, if they failed to meet her lofty expectations of prompt service & immediate satisfaction.

It was the middle of a very hot summer &, aside from her holidays around the world, Vanessa habitually split her time between the family mansion, in rural Surrey, & her own home in the nation’s capital. Vanessa was staying in her mews terrace home, her base in the heart of London, which her parents had given her as a typically extravagant combined graduation/21st birthday present.

“I’ve just arrived at my place, Darling. Let’s meet here for breakfast on Wednesday…no, leave your car in my garage, & bring an overnight bag. Yes, of course our plans are confirmed …you are going to stay a couple of nights here. I want to hear everything about married life with Robert! Confirm the arrangements with the others, please, Sienna? I’m in need of some intense retail therapy….bring your cards! Time to refresh the wardrobe again. I’ve reserved a table for lunch. ”

With those words Vanessa concluded her phone conversation with one of her best friends, Sienna Wallingford, finalizing her meet-up plans for the following day’s spending spree. Vanessa would hold a roughly fortnightly meet-up with several of her best friends, in London, shopping in the cluster of luxury fashion houses & jewelers in the center.

The Same Day—Southwell Estate in N. London

A leading figure in the local residents’ protest group, Sonja, a 40 something divorced mother of two grown up children, was engaged in a lively conversation with a small group of her closest allies. Sonja outlined her plan, & said,

“Lizzie, can you come with me tomorrow morning?”

__“Of course, Sonja, you know you only have to ask! What’s the deal?”

Sonja explained to Lizzie that while it was her intention to approach Vanessa, in the hope of a one-to-one chat, she also needed a plan B, which is where Lizzie came in. Sonja told Lizzie that they must not approach Vanessa as a pair, or let on that they knew each other, at any point, until it was appropriate to do so.

Time to Spend, spend, spend!

The next morning, Vanessa’s first challenge was to ensure she looked first-among-equals, sans pareil, the style leader of the group. Her outfit was built around a stylishly simple, metallic grey silk-blend organza dress, from Hermès ready-to-wear collection, ideal for a hot summer day. The shoes were a matching colour pair of Aquazzura sandal-heels. The ‘cherry on the top’ was her Argyle pink diamond jewellery—bracelet & earrings, worth a cool £50k. A final sideways glance in the hall mirror, confirmed the result--beautiful, rich, stylish, with the world at her, perfectly pedicured, feet. Sienna glared enviously at her friend, admiring her impeccable taste, as ever. She looked almost equally sublime--£2k Chanel geometric-pattern print, above-the-knee, cotton voile dress, clinging to her figure, teamed up with Jimmy Choo sandal-heels, & topped off with a £10+k set of Mikimoto pearl accoutrements—pendant, earrings, bracelet.

The wealthy socialites gathered at a nearby café, & excitedly embarked on their morning of relentlessly extravagant retail consumption, vacuuming up impressive quantities of clothes, jewellery & shoes, in particular.

After their bout of ‘hard work’ a recharge was necessary, with a relaxed lunch in one of the many top-notch restaurants in the same area. On this particular occasion, another hot, summer day, Vanessa had selected a favorite ‘al fresco’ location. The privileged socialites feasted on a lavish lunch of mixed seafood washed down with several bottles of vintage champagne. The increasingly boisterous conversation switched repeatedly between the latest fashion & celebrity gossip, boyfriends & how they measured up, both financially & in bed, & everyone’s vacation plans for both, the rest of the summer & their individual & joint skiing break(s) in the New Year.

After several hours, the group briefly returned to shopping in Bond Street, but soon agreed that they were all rather too tipsy to continue, & also loaded up with too many bags. In the hot weather, Vanessa & her upper class friends were complaining of feeling the first hints of moisture on the ‘glowing’ areas of their pampered & fragrant bodies. And with a series of air kisses & over-loud farewells, they went their different ways. The other 3 in the group were picking up Ubers to their various destinations. Vanessa, on the other hand, was distinctly light headed & thought it would be a good idea to enjoy the beautiful summer’s day, & walk back to her home in the company of her best friend, Sienna. The latter, also a blonde beauty, could have passed as Vanessa’s sister. They had met at school, & had remained friends since, with a shared love of their high-style, hedonistic lifestyle. Unlike Vanessa, Sienna had met, & recently married ‘The One’—Robert. He was, actually, a senior director within Vanessa’s father’s property group. Since Sienna’s marriage the two friends’ joint socializing had diminished somewhat, & this was a perfect opportunity to spend a few days together in Vanessa’s home, as well as meeting up with their mutual London-based circle.

The two friends started walking to Vanessa’s home, click clocking, almost in military unison, in their ultra-stylish, 5” sandal-style heels. They were soon only too conscious of being somewhat overloaded with their shopping bags. They were blissfully unaware of being watched & followed, at a shortening distance, by a pair of very different looking women.