Introducing Rochelle, another of the Virgins of Venus

Rochelle had led a charmed life. Born an only child into a wealthy family and with an overly indulgent mother and a father she could wrap around her little finger she had wanted for nothing during her nineteen years. She was given her first pony at the age of six and her first Porsche at the age of seventeen. She holidayed at all of the glamour spots of Europe including St Tropez, Monaco, London and Paris. She had studied at all of the best schools, if study is the right word. She wasn’t particularly gifted in the brains department but a string of highly paid tutors managed to cajole and support her through each set of academic hurdles. She was studying Sociology, the low grades require for matriculation made it a no brainer, choices were limited.

Though she did not excel in the brains department she certainly did when it came to her looks. At five eleven and with gloriously long and toned legs she was hard to miss. With her young, firm breasts and sex doll pout she was hard to ignore. With her well groomed, sharp dressed appearance she was impossible to resist.

Rochelle walked with a confidence borne of privilege allied to all of the benefits that beauty brings. Her mother had been a glamour model, her father a major landowner in Africa. Between flitting from continent to continent her father would conduct a series of high profile affairs with glamorous women right before the eyes of his wife, with her fading looks and unsophisticated manners, and his daughter – who viewed him with a mix of awe and distaste. Rochelle had inherited her mother’s looks and her father’s vanity...

Joining the Virgins of Venus had been a no brainer. Normal relationships and normal life bored Rochelle to tears. When you have been everywhere and done everything by the age of sixteen then sex is the only remaining frontier to be explored. And there was no way that Rochelle was giving herself to just any youth at college, no way. She required powerful and mature men, men who could take control of her in the bedroom and she needed to be controlled, it turned her on to think that a man could tame her... In her youth she had enjoyed, if that is the right word, various encounters with sweaty palmed boys in the back of their beat up cars, but at the age of seventeen when she had been taken by a friend of her father’s following a party at her parent’s house it had opened her eyes to what the older man had to offer.

To be continued.

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