s3e14 - Bronte (25) socialite from Hampstead

A train rattles along a raised section of track. Beneath it – a series of large Victorian era arches have been walled in to form garages and storage spaces. Grubby, messy and old. It’s the wrong end of town, very much working man’s territory.

We close in on one of these arches and note a figure walking toward it.

She’s immaculately dressed from top to toe in a tailored black jacket and knee length skirt combination, with a low-cut white top tucked in tight, the neckline revealing a healthy fold of lightly tanned cleavage. The skirt is wraps around strong thighs and stops short of toned calves.

Her shoulder length hair is straight, mostly blonde but with a few black streaks, not a single strand it out of place. As she gets closer we can see her face clearly and it’s worth looking at. Big hazel eyes, high cheekbones, a soft jawline and whiter-than-white teeth - perhaps a little too much make-up. She has the confident smile and carriage of a woman who knows she’s attractive – probably a little too confident. Arrogant even.

The entrance to the arch, a large wooden door is ajar, and she steps inside without pausing. Walking into the space as if she owns it.

Inside it’s dingy and dirty. Wooden packing crates are banked up to the rear and along one side of the arch, the other half is clear – although the word ‘clear’ might suggest an area a lot cleaner than this. There’s a good inch of dirt covering the ground. Leftover food wrappers, cans, rat shit. Credit to her, the young lady doesn’t so much as turn her nose up at the place.

She looks right past the camera, to the interviewer behind – the audience at home don’t matter to her, she’s not here for them – they are there for her. Her voice is rich and smooth, education dripping from every word.

“Hello, my name is Bronte LaSelles, I’m 25, and I’m from Hampstead in London ... And I’m here to be FUCKED by a dog!” The emphasis she places on the word ‘fucked’ is quite delightful.

The obvious question is ‘Why is a woman like you, coming to a place like this, to do something like that?’

She smiles and forces a little laugh. She’s in total control. “Because I want to. And I always get what I want.”

Cut to a shot of Bronte sitting/leaning on a packing crate, her bottom perched on the edge of the box, her hands behind her, her ankles crossed. She’s relaxed, very much in control, right in the middle of everyone’s attention – where she always is. She answers questions direct to camera.

“I’ve always been attracted to depravity and perversion ... I enjoy an extremely varied sex-life and I see no reason why I should be ashamed of my proclivities. It is the twenty-first century after all ... We’ve killed God ... We are the rulers of the world ... What’s to stop us doing whatever we want to do? And I want to do this!”

You seem like a very take-charge in-charge type of lady ... I’m surprised you haven’t tried this already...

“If I had wanted to do it before, I would have done so ... The idea never appealed to me until I saw your show, so I thought I would like to do it on your show. I think the cameras and the viewers at home are just as sexually exciting as the dog itself.”

You like the idea of being watched?

“I enjoy the thought that people around the world will be watching and crying that the dog is getting me but they won’t. I don’t mean to be arrogant, I know that can be unattractive in a woman, but I know you haven’t have a woman like me on your show before. I doubt you’ll find another either. I’m special.” She delivers this in such a way that we like her despite her arrogance. It’s hard to argue with her personal appraisal so far – she is a very attractive woman.

As I said before, you seem very take-charge, you understand that once things start – the dog will be in control and you will just be here for the ride...

She smirks. “I rather think that’s the appeal of it ... Most men I meet are scared of me. They are desperate to please me. I like ‘a bit of rough’, and I can’t imagine anything rougher than a doggy!”

We hang on her look for a moment – then cut to outside to see what her bit of rough looks like...

Cut to the street outside. A close up of a middle-aged woman trying her best to look like an aloof bitch – dark glasses and too much make-up. It’s Carol. A wider shot reveals that she’s wearing that tight-fitting knee-length red dress again ... Her hair and make-up looks particularly slutty today.

Pull back further to reveal that she’s walking with her German Shepherd, Rebel. His long black fur is shiny, his eyes bright, his nose glistening. Healthy and handsome.

Her northern tones sound out over the top of the video. “This is Rebel, and my name is Carol. I’ve only had him for less than a year but he’s a fast learner – and he’s already become an expert lover ... I can’t get enough of him, but he’s still got more than enough to share around...”

In close-up, her talking direct to camera. “The United Kingdom of Zoo gave me my chance to shine, now I’m going to share that pleasure with another, very lucky lady...”

And with that, she steps through the big wooden door into the archway.

Inside, Bronte watches the new arrivals enter. She barely moves, still leaning on those boxes, very casual, laid back. She doesn’t look impressed by the black shepherd, or by the woman in red. These are merely props to entertain her.

Carol walks over to introduce Rebel to the young lady. He immediately begins to sniff at her, between her legs, up her skirt, pushing his head in as far as he can. Bronte is amused but apparently not aroused, and pushes him away. Carol moves in for the obligatory near-miss cheek-kiss – figuring the younger woman to be the type that’s into such false friendliness. She’s right.

She introduces herself, “I’m Carol, this is Rebel.” Bronte returns the near-miss cheek-kiss on the other side. “Bronte ... And I’m your willing dog-slut for today!” Still aloof, but at least she knows her purpose. Carol steps back with her dog to give Bronte room to strip for the camera.

They chat as the younger woman removes her blouse to reveal a white half-cup, front-fastening bra which is holding back a near perfect pair of boobs. Just the right amount of curve and size. “Has Rebel serviced many ladies?” She asks as she unzips her skirt down the hip and thigh and slips it off revealing silk panties beneath.

Carol responds. “A couple of ladies, yes ... And a lot of sluts...”

Bronte raises an eyebrow and asks “And which category are you placing me?”

Carol looks her up and down – young, firm, smooth, good skin, tremendous body ... But not impressed. “I’ll tell you when I’ve seen you in action!”

Bronte nods – a “you think you’re better than me” nod, an “I’ll show you” smile to go with it, and unhooks her bra at the front, letting those boobs drop a tiny bit, but spread wider. They are tremendous. Bronte appears to be very proud of them, and then the secret comes out, “Daddy bought them for my 18th.” Shit, these are good fakes because no-one here would have picked them as surgically enhanced ... Carol can’t resist, reaching out to fondle one of them, much to Bronte’s amusement. “Everyone wants to feel them sooner or later...” She laughs.

“And I’m sure given enough time everyone will...” Carol deadpans to camera. “And to be fair, everyone should, they don’t feel fake.” She finishes her fondle and allows her hands to run down Bronte’s belly, then backing away, clearly impressed with how firm this young beauty’s body is.

Bronte stands there for a moment, watching Carol back away. “I hope you enjoyed that.” She says with more than a hint of sarcasm. She has her near perfect body almost fully exposed, boobs firm and round but totally natural looking. Flat stomach, toned legs, and tight little buttocks. She’s almost as hot as she thinks she is. Understand this – she wouldn’t be modelling for Victoria’s Secret, but she’d probably win your local wet t-shirt contest easily.

She pulls her briefs down her thighs to reveal her blonde whispy pussy, steps out of them, and stands there naked and confident. Everyone is looking and she loves it. We can tell she’s looking forward to millions seeing her on television and over the internet. We’re also pretty confident that if she fucks as good as she looks, she’ll be our highest download on the website!

“I suppose you’re going to want me on the ground?” She says – above it all, but knowing that the whole point was to do it in the dirt. We confirm this and she just stares toward the camera, her head slightly to one side, a ‘really?’ look on her face...

Then she’s getting down onto the dusty and dirty ground. Wiping dirt off her hands onto her thighs, then brushing dirt off her thighs ... Dirt on the ground digging into her knees. Her shifting position until she is comfortable, and once her knees are comfortable she bends forward, placing her hands back on the floor, her arse in the air. She nods to Carol to say that she’s ready. “Okay...”

Carol returns to Rebel and unhooks his collar, setting him loose ... He moves toward Bronte immediately, sniffing around her rear. Her ass, between her thighs – wet nose against her flesh, tongue flicking and flapping around as he homes in on his target.

Bronte takes a deep breath, still maintaining her cool exterior but showing the slightest sign of nerves. Then a little whimper/gasp as Rebel’s tongue wipes over her perfect little pussy. More surprise than pleasure. Rebel doesn’t care if she likes it – he’s just after his favourite taste ... His tongue rasping over her pussy, between the lips, over the clit, from clit to perineum over and over. Drinking her up, and slowly breaking down her cool exterior as it begins to feel good.

She does her best to keep a straight face, her soft lips together, pursed slightly, eyes wide, blonde hair still in place.

We cut to a side angle to catch the full glory of this wonderful looking lady on her hands and knees, firm boobs hanging down, belly flat – sucked in deeper so that in profile she has virtually no middle at all she’s so slim – the legs, the arms, the arse, all damned good. The dog behind her, his snout buried between her thighs, his tongue working her pussy. She’s breathing hard, we can see her chest expanding and she breaths, doing her best to avoid showing she’s enjoying this ... But possibly for the first time in her life – she’s beginning to fail...

Carol approaches, “It looks like you’re beginning to enjoy this...” She says, “Let’s put a stop to that!”

She pats Bronte on the bottom, then runs her hand up the younger woman’s back. Once again, that crazy woman in red taking the opportunity to feel up a beautiful woman whenever she can. She pats Bronte’s bum again, “Come on, Rebel ... Fuck-time ... Fuck-time...”

Rebel, well trained as he is, stops licking – against his instincts – and gets ready to mount her, moving into position, then rising up and taking hold of her hips, his paws wrapping around under her belly, dewclaws scraping raw lines around her midriff.

He starts to pump at her rear end, his cock tip protruding just a little, jagging at her lovely rear end ... Bronte supports him and waits for the inevitable. Keeping her head up, facing forward. Rebel still trying to get in her pussy, and us just sitting back and watching – because even the struggle looks good.