Chapter 14: Annabel the Arrogant Accountant. June 1990

A week before my birthday, I got a letter from the Inland Revenue.

Dear Sir
We find that you are in tax arrears, to the sum of £2376.76.
A member of our Accounts Retrieval Department, Ms Annabel Fanshawe –Smythe, will be calling on the 12 June, at 4pm, for your arrears.
Please have all your invoices, receipts and bank cheque stubs available for Ms Fanshawe -Smythe to peruse.

Yours sincerely

Mike Hunt

I showed the letter to Pippa.
"I don't understand it, my tax is dealt with by the Regimental paymaster, how can I be in debt?"
She dismissed the letter with wave of her hand,

"They are always making cock ups at the Revenue, just forget about it."

On my 26th birthday I met Annabel the Arrogant Accountant.

I had taken a few days leave around my birthday so I was at home when the doorbell rang dead on 4pm; Pippa wasn't back home from work yet.
I opened the door and there stood Annabel Fanshawe –Smythe.

She seemed tall; her hair swept up on the top of her head gave her the appearance of height, as did the 4inch high heels on the shoes she wore. Her suit was the power dressing type, charcoal grey with a herringbone pattern, the jacket had those wide chunky shoulder pads and the hem of her skirt was just to above her knees. Her dark blue blouse was high necked, with all the buttons done up. Through her horn-rimmed glasses she gave me a look, which if it had been down an aquiline nose, would have been a sneer. As it was actually Pippa's retroussé nose it came over merely as a cold stare.
After announcing herself she strode purposefully past me into the front room.
She laid her briefcase on the table, sat in a chair and pointed for me to sit in another across from her.

"Where are your invoices, your receipts and your cheque book stubs?" Her voice dripped with venom, "you were informed what was required; how is it you haven't obeyed the instructions given to you?"

"I don't understand... , " I began.

"Your sorts of people never do understand" she snapped, "That's why someone like me, educated and intelligent, has to come down to your filthy hovels to sort it all out!"

Her voice had exactly the same tone, accent and pitch as that snooty bitch Annabel, Harry Ledbetter's sister. How Pippa had come up with this vocal performance was uncanny, and once again I marvelled at her acting ability.

"Well," she snapped "I'm waiting; show me your ledgers or I will suspect you have something to hide!"

I had something to hide alright; a massive erection was building up! I ran through the scenario in my mind.

Annabel was an alter ego end product that Pippa had taken some time to develop. The idea of a high status woman; lawyer, doctor, teacher, bank manager, etc., being my sex partner had been in Pippa's mind for some time. The scenario envisaged the coaxing of a sexually repressed woman into becoming a sexual tiger. It was after me telling Pippa about my infatuation with Harry Ledbetter's sister, and my subsequent fetish for middle-class women, that Pippa had come up with Annabel.

The scenario had been shifted from ' coaxing a repressed woman' to that of 'a worm turning'.
A man is first dominated by an arrogant female but then overcomes her sexually, ('rough love' rather than rape) and ends up dominating her.
Pippa had studied psychology and had realised that I was in some way intimidated by well-educated middle class dominant women.

As she pointed out, I had always been subjected to middle class women in a dominant position; at school (not that I spent much time there!), with social workers (it was touch and go at one time if I would be taken into care, given my mother's addiction to alcohol and her lack of domestic skills), with the probation service for minor infractions of the law (mostly shoplifting and pilfering). She believed I needed to dominate this class of woman, physically during the sex act, so as to counter- act their perceived dominance over me.
Pippa was an intelligent and knowledgeable woman so I let her think I went along with her theory; the truth was I just liked shagging middle class women!

"I don't have a ledger," I said sorrowfully "I'll have to throw myself on your mercy."

"Mercy? I don't have any mercy for guttersnipe oiks like you" Annabel snorted "you will have to be punished. Either pay a fine of £5000 pounds or serve 12 months in jail."

"I don't have that sort of money" I whined.

"That's the trouble with you working class layabouts, you never take responsibility for your actions; screwing around, producing 1000s of sub normal children, spending money you don't have, gambling and drinking, it's time that you underclass were all taught a lesson!"

She was getting into a real rant and I suddenly realised then that Pippa wasn't acting.

I had a sudden burst of clarity. She had a thing about the working class, which is why she had taken me on as her sex partner in spite of me being in the army, and in spite of her friends' distaste at the affair. Pippa and I both felt intimidated by the each other's class; that is why I was drawn to her and she to me. We had both reacted in the same way to this feeling of being intimidated -- Fuck 'em!

In the 'worm turns' scenario I finally subjugated 'Annabel', but I knew it was only play acting and it wouldn't really rid me of the sense of being intimidated by middle class well educated women; I would need to subjugate Pippa to rid myself of this inferiority complex, which I now saw, with startling clearness, lay behind my neuroses.

I knew what I was going to do next; Pippa had written the scenario but I was going to tear up her script.

"So what do you want from me?" I asked, as per scenario.

Annabel lifted one leg.

"You can crawl along the floor and lick my shoes" she said.

I continued with the script by crawling across the carpet to her and licking her shoes, putting the spikes of her heels in my mouth and sucking on them.( I know some men get off on that but it did nothing for me). Still following the script I got up off the floor and put my hands on her legs. I then slid my hands up to the top of her stockings, grasped her knickers and pulled them down to her ankles.

"How dare you, Mr Desmond" Annabel shouted "I'll have you arrested for rape!"

"You'll do no such thing" I sat down in the chair and dragged her across my knee; lifted her skirt up over her sweet arse and proceeded to spank her. This was as per script, and in fact not a million miles from Priscilla the Prick teaser Schoolgirl scenario, which indicated that Pippa liked being spanked. This was just as well as she was now going to get her arse skelped until it was red raw!
For a few moments I just sat looked at Annabel/Pippa's pert buttocks. The cheeks were shapely, and taut with exercise, without a blemish on the milky white skin. Annabel wriggled on my lap, the waiting almost unbearable as she anticipated that first stinging slap

My hand descended heavily and she gave a yelp of pain but stayed in character.

"Mr Desmond, stop now and I won't go to the police!"
I watched as her skin went from milky white to an angry red, the shape of my hand clearly discernable. I felt like a surreal painter, working on a blank canvass, and decided to lay another handprint alongside the first. My second slap landed.

"Ow! Dewey, that hurt!" said Pippa, with a gasp of surprise and pain sounding in her voice

"Mr Desmond to you, slag" I replied and smacked her again, hard ... The left cheek of her buttocks was now various shades of red, and I wondered if I had discovered a new style of art? Imagine having freshly slapped women's arses on display at the Tate Modern? The punters would flock in to see such 'art'.I made a mental note to give Damien Hirst a bell( telephone call), I'm sure he would be up for it.

Meantime Pippa had realised the script had changed and tried to get up.
I held her down and landed another stinging smack on her right cheek, not quite so hard but still painful. I am not a woman beater but I could see the attraction of having a sobbing female writhing over your lap. It was also giving me a massive erection.
She struggled, still crying, as I continued to slap her. By now her buttocks were glowing and she was whimpering and sobbing; and she was also oozing love juice! I saw it trickling down her thighs and realised that she was being turned on by this rough love. Pain is akin to pleasure, and by some chance I had managed to keep her on the pleasure side of pain.

"OK, Annabel" I said. "Lay on the carpet with your legs wide open"

Pippa did as told, wondering where this was leading, fear and uncertainty in her eyes. I knew that she was aroused, even if her arse was stinging; I also realised that for the first time in our relationship she wasn't in charge.
I pushed her skirt up around her waist but left her blouse undisturbed; Pippa looked puzzled by this unusual behaviour, this was not something she had factored into the scenario; she was losing control of the situation, being dominated and abused, and I got the impression that fact was turning her on.

I knelt between her opened legs and wiped my prick up and down her slit; the lips were already opening for me so I put my knob head in and gave a little push. She arched her back to draw me in but I withdrew. I did this several times and eventually Pippa said.

"Dewey, for God's sake, put it right in me."

"Sorry Annabel, I didn't quite hear what you said" I was enjoying myself, for once I was in control of the scenario and not just following Pippa's script.
Pippa reverted to Annabel and begged me to fuck her. I made her ask three times before entering and starting my grind and clench routine. Pippa thought this was the build up to our usual lovemaking, but I wasn't finished with Annabel, or Pippa.

Normal lovemaking between Pippa and me was like two lovers walking along a street towards the destination of a welcoming pub, The Climax Inn. We both knew the route to follow, sometimes we would dawdle looking in a shop window, and sometimes we would run to get past a boring bit, but always making progress towards The Climax Inn, until finally arriving at the front door together. Being the perfect gent I would allow Pippa to enter first, before coming in a second or so after her. Occasionally we would run the whole length of the street, bursting into the Inn together, all sweaty and gasping for breath.

We started off as normal; just walking slowly along that street. I could hear Annabel/Pippa groaning in anticipation as we approached all the landmarks. This is where I rub her G spot by altering the angle of attack of my prick; this was where her sensitive clit gets ground to unbearable pleasure by my pelvic bone. This is where her nipples are sucked and licked; here is where my finger is introduced in to her rosebud arse hole.
Except this time I didn't go the landmarked way; I made unscheduled stops, and double backed on myself. I stopped sliding in and out and gazed into a shop window; Annabel soon got impatient and tried to drag me towards our destination.

"Mr Desmond" she implored "please don't stop."

I allowed her to drag me away and we ran a bit to catch up; that is, I gave her a few minutes of strenuous in and out action, driving in hard and clenching as I withdrew. Then I stopped, sat at a pavement cafe and ordered a cafe latte! That is I withdrew completely allowing the air to cool my bollocks and prick.