"Where's the sea, dahlin? We've travelled all the way from Buckinghamshire and there's no blooming sea to see."Brenda stared at him as if he had spoke... in tongues. Greg's accent, although not Cockney was of London, and Brenda's ears weren't attuned to his Estuary English glottal stops and vowel splits.I translated his question into the generic Northernspeak which I used. Although London born my family had moved up North when I was twelve and I, chameleon-like, soon blended into the local. After that, she'd been listening so carefully that she'd even heard the sound of Alan upstairs, panting for breath in the otherwise quiet house. So she had a good idea that he was taking a strategic pause before coming down to her.The trouble was, she was so hot and ready that even that delay was grating on her nerves. She could feel herself practically boiling between her legs in anticipation.Her eyes were closed, to better focus on the sound of Alan's footfalls as he slowly descended one step. It was a harsh room and she would sleep in chains, would learn to feel safe in them, but the key was that I wanted her to feel at home. I wanted her steadied while she slept in regular penetration and bondage. But we would get there. I’m sure she expected me to use her hard and often as soon as I got her in that room, but training took a priority. I wanted her well disciplined before I took my pleasure, and that meant first thing was first.I was going to condition her to hunger for cock and. Mostly, I craved satin-nylon material, they were soft and erotic against my balls and cock. I was still small enough at this age to try on their stockings and garter belts. My mother had a pair of white nylon sanitary panties with a vinyl gusset which I discovered early in my adventure and I was completely taken.She stops and leaves me bending over. She releases the steel bung and quickly slips in a slightly larger one. My panties are pulled up and she steps into kiss me fully on the lips.“Very.