Chapter 1

Harriet Harper did not cry at her mother's funeral, far from it. As a light rain fell on the few people in black that attended, most as local volunteers, Harriet did her best to control a smile of relief as the coffin was lowered into the grave. At 42, she had led a life as a spinster which had been enforced by the tyrannical woman, she venting her ire on the girl from the moment her father had left when Harriet was still a baby.

As a child at school she was the target of bullying by girls and boys alike, dressed in the most dowdy outfits her mother could find, and this had continued throughout her teens and beyond. Never allowed to develop relationships, she had managed to open a covert second life from her small bedroom by using her guile in convincing her mother to obtain a computer to administer her affairs. Though Harriet had not been allowed to use the password secured unit without her mother sitting close to ensure its use for household business only, she knew her mother was not too knowledgeable in modern ways, and had managed to ensure that a wi-fi service had been installed. The day that she secretly obtained a tablet, having saved the meagre allowance that her mother allowed her from her wage at the local library, after many months, was like being reborn to her. The small device so easily hidden from her mother, gave her access to the dark and sexual life she so desired.

Way into the small hours, she had built on-line relationships, dreaming of a time when she could reap her own vengeance on the world. Though her mother was the controlling and main perpetrator of her situation, her frequent exposure to the rude taunts of males with regard to her appearance and her obviously single unmarried status, had resulted in her evolving a healthy desire to punish and dominate members of the male gender. The adult sites made her yearn to feel a stiff rampant cock probe her sex, but those that centered on women being in charge gave her the most rewarding orgasms; she yearned to have a male at her feet, begging to be owned by her.

Her neglected and needy cunt tingled as she began to walk from the cemetery, even the plain black outfit she had bought for the funeral made her feel so sexy in comparison with her usual drab attire; it hugged her body and allowed her to express her femininity as none of her other clothes could. Her exit was postponed for a few moments by one of the few relatives who attended. Her Great Aunt Beatrice who was even older than her mother and who had turned up feeling a sense of duty and having nothing much else to do; she had never been close to her mother and was just as staid and pious. She seemed to sneer at Harriet as she addressed her, Harriet using all her resolve to look as solemn as she could.

'I do hope you shan't be too lonely in that big house all on your own.' Harriet fought hard to maintain her dour expression and suppress a smile.

'Oh not at all Aunt Beatrice, I am quite looking forward to it.' Her mother had begrudgingly left everything she owned to her daughter, and her acquisition of the entire estate had been a formality, a house long since paid for and a sizeable bank balance leaving her with no need to work. She had decided to keep her job for a while; there were some people there she was anxious to have see the change in her, not least some of the regular male customers who had been so cutting about her appearance. She had begun to strip her mother's large bedroom on the very day she learned of her passing, and the decorators who were now busy repainting the main bedroom and lounge were somewhat bemused at seeing the grey spinster transformed in a tight black outfit, leaving them goggle eyed as she stepped into the black limousine which arrived with the hearse.

Harriet strode back confidently, passing the dilapidated hairdressers with its usual clientele of sexagenarian women where her mother had insisted she have her hair done, onto a modern salon where she booked an appointment. The young girl looked at her plainly cut hair with an open-mouthed expression, bringing a wry smile from Harriet.

'Yes, I know; a lot of work for someone. Whatever it costs!' She ventured into the supermarket and bought a large bottle of rose wine and returned back to the house, pleased to see the decorators loading their van. One of them showed her the rooms which met with her approval and she gleefully slipped her debit card into the hand held reader. Closing the door behind him, she found the corkscrew, unused since Christmas, and uncorked the wine. She kicked off her shoes and lay back on the old settee she had spent so many evenings sat next to her overbearing mother, and laughed with a sense of pure elation, lifting her legs and slipping her pantie hose and panties off. She spread her legs and fingered her wet cunt to a satisfying orgasm, dreaming of the pleasures she would now indulge in.

The wine went straight to her head, and she giggled as she switched on the computer, ordering clothes both smart and risque galore by express delivery from various sites, downing another glass as the bright new things ordered reminded her of those rags in her wardrobe. She wobbled a little precariously as she ascended the stairs and ripped grey skirts, beige and pink cardigans, and plain blouses from the plain utilitarian wardrobe and drawers, piling them high on the bed. With a stupefied smile on her face, she stumbled back down the stairs with her arms full, out into the garden where she dumped the pile onto a stack of dried branches and leaves from rudimentary gardening maintenance, which had awaited igniting only when her domineering mother deemed was the correct time of year. She fetched a box of long matches from the kitchen and set the funeral pyre of her old world ablaze.

Bottle and glass in hand, she stood back and enjoyed the flames and smoke curl around her drab items, slowly consuming the things which had kept her down for so long. As she did so, she noticed a twitch in the curtains of the only other house with a view into her garden. Mr Edward Bryant lived alone there, a fifty-something year old who often leered at her, despite her plain appearance, and who on rare occasions had been invited in by her mother to assist when they had an issue with the plumbing or the like. He had always looked at her with a perverse smile on the moments her mother's back was turned, and she had felt his eyes undress her, trying to imagine the not unshapely figure which lay below the unflattering clothing which now flamed.

Bryant played with his cock as she looked toward the twitching net curtain; she was alone now and his dirty mind fantasised about her succumbing to his worldly ways, he taking full advantage of her. She knew nothing of sex and would be desperate and easily manipulated he thought, as he thumbed his bell-end with cock fast erecting. His cock swelled to a a firmness as he stroked, she looked so different already in the tight black skirt. Harriet's cunt tingled as she downed another glass of the half empty bottle of wine, and thought of the treat she'd give him. She placed the glass down on a paving stone and filled it again, leaving it and the bottle there before going indoors, knowing the watcher would expect her return to drink it. The leering male's cock softened a little with the disappointment of her departing from his view, but the wine heralded her return, he stroked hard to maintain his erection as he thought of showing the obviously shy and reserved virgin what pleases a man.