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Chapter 9
It was now the end of April and many of Passionella's best employees had gathered at PROM for another new product launch, this time of ‘Mesh' - a new range of sexy dance/party/late-nights-at-home wear intended to compete with the growth of more daring high-street underwear shops.
I had been invited, of course, to mingle with the clients as one of them and to check up on the Dems and personal shoppers who can sometimes treat these launches as a night out for their own benefit rather than for the benefit of their customers. On the way there, I ran through some saved messages on my cell-phone voicemail. One had been left by Helen from the Sheffield store.
She introduced herself nervously then started to speak falteringly to my voicemail service like it was a behaviour counsellor:
“Julia, I need your help (long pause) No, let me get straight to the point. You, er, you know we aren't supposed to touch each other, company rules and all that, but, well, … I have a fantasy about you and I and it's been keeping me awake at night. Julia, I've rubbed my pussy so sore just thinking of you and I ,,, doing, doing, well, something together. But I've saved myself for you for nearly a week now and my clit is throbbing for you and my juices are welling up inside me as I speak. Julia, can you come up to Sheffield really soon so we can get it on in the changing rooms? Or can we meet at PROM for the new product launch next week and enjoy each other in a Private Room? All the girls are talking about you and how much fun they have with you when you shop in their stores. Will you do something with me, Julia?” Click
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All my favourite girls were at the show. Fiona was positively glowing - she'd lost some weight and gained loads of self-confidence since being promoted to Personal Shopper at the new outlet in York. Tall Stevie was as loud as ever and was chatting up Yasmin and Zöe who, as usual, seemed more interested in each other and were being embarrassingly touchy-feely over pre-show drinks. Vikki and Maria were circulating like true professionals, chatting to clients and floating effortlessly from group to group. Abigail was mostly standing still for fear of falling out of her low-cut dress and Helen was attracting admiring and jealous stares in equal measure as she displayed more taught, flat tummy than most of us could at half her age. We made eye contact only briefly across the floor before Linda appeared and announced that the show was about to start.
We filed downstairs to the catwalk and took our seats. To my delight, Helen immediately sat down next to me and the other two vacant seats are taken by Zöe and Yasmin; they wouldn't disturb us as they were still totally engrossed in each other. Helen leaned across and spoke quietly. "Did, did you get my, er …"
“Yes,” I assured her, “I got your message - it was very flattering. I whispered in her ear: “Listen, I'll see you after the show. Shhh!"
Mesh was well presented as a very raunchy product line, something of a departure for Passionella but not losing the air of exclusivity and sophistication we all associated with the brand. Every garment was made up from panels of see-through fine mesh stretched between a structure of straps and webs. As Fiona, Stevie, Maria and another girl I didn't recognise took their turns on the stage, the audience cheered and applauded as we were treated to bras & panties in various cuts & styles, nightwear and ‘special outfits' in black or white.
One garment in particular caught my eye. It was a basque and was modelled by lovely Maria; it barely covered her ample Antipodean breasts and stopped just above her hips. It had wide shoulder straps and removable suspenders attached by trademark Passionella logo catches. With it, she wore a Mesh thong with narrow side straps that also featured Passionella Kissing Lips logos. Cheekily, Maria showed that the side catches could be undone to make the thong even easier to remove in a hurry, although she fastened them again without completing the task. Shame.
I was in no doubt that the product range would be a great success when it hit the stores and the audience applauded warmly as Linda took the stage to make her closing remarks.
Immediately after the show, Helen grabbed my arm and positively dragged me up the stairs and into Gold Private Room before any of the other guests had even left their tables. She closed the door quickly and locked it behind her whereupon she let out a long sigh and smiled broadly at me. We flopped into opposite sofas and talked small talk, about the show, the products, the weather and life.
Then Helen looked more serious.
“I meant it. My message. I want to act out my fantasy, right here, right now, and I don't care if I get fired either. Julia, I'm hot for you and I want to show you what I bad girl I can be. Will you let me?"
How could I resist? Helen was not classically beautiful but she had a lean and slender body, long arms & legs and a particularly long, narrow midriff. She had masses of dark hair, to match her dark eyes. I was excited by her forward approach and realised that I could turn tonight to my advantage - I would use Helen as a practice run for my seduction of Linda. By the way, where was Linda tonight? I'd hardly seen her.
"Helen, yes, of course." I replied. She smiled again.
“I'd love you to model that set that Maria wearing, and I want to try out an idea. Are you game?" Helen nodded, and located her size amongst the garments on the hanging rail. "White OK?" she asked. A good choice to contrast with her hair. She disappeared into the en-suite dressing area and appeared moments later, still adjusting the straps to fit. She also had on a pair of white lace-top stockings that she attached to the suspenders and finally she threw a long white silk scarf casually around her neck.
Helen put on the show of my dreams. She moved so sensually and she talked dirty too. She described her garments in tantalising detail and used her long fingers to point out the features and the places where they made her feel good. She wriggled and showed me close up how the mesh had made her nipples hard and how the slightly stretchy material formed around them. She thrust out her chest and moaned, describing how the pressure on her breasts was making her feel horny and how the slightly coarse mesh rubbed over her nipples, making them hyper-sensitive. Looking down, I couldn't help but notice the dark shadow of her bush through the contrasting white mesh of her thong.
I encouraged her and matched the explicitness of her dialogue. I asked her questions about how the clothes made her feel and elicited moans of pleasure as I insisted she repeated and exaggerated those movements that increased her arousal. I had her acting to her own script and she was loving it.
“Helen, does that thong press against your pussy?” I teased, expecting no reply. “Does it feel tight between your legs, Helen? Does it rub you when you move?"
Helen confirmed my thoughts by making even more sensual moves and looking more and more dreamy. I asked more questions, the answers to which I could easily guess: “Helen, are you feeling really hot now? Is your pussy opening up and swelling against the pressure of that thong?" Helen could only nod and lick her lips. I continued to encourage her.
“Is your pussy engorged and wide open now (I could see that it was) and is the thong starting to slip between your lips? Is it, Helen?”
She nodded again.
“Is your clit touching the mesh fabric, now?” By the look on her face, I was sure it was.
“Yes it is, yes, yes, yes you bitch, you know it is. For fuck sake, stop just talking about it and frig me, won't you? I want you to pantie-frig me till I come. You promised. Just do it, now, please, please," Helen pleaded, standing with her hands on her hips, her legs wide apart and her pussy mound thrust towards me.
Now for my flash of inspiration. "Hold still," I demanded.
"I can't, Julia, I can't. I'm so turned on I'm just gong to have to do it myself if you won't - just watch me.
"No, don't," I insisted, and quickly grabbed the silk scarf from around her neck. I tied her wrists together behind her back and she cursed me some more.
“Now hold still, you'll thank me later," I retorted.
Helen was not convinced but I detached the suspenders from the bottom edge of her basque and tossed them aside (thankfully her stockings were hold-ups so they stayed high and smooth on her long, firm thighs).
I then unfastened the Logo clasp at one side of her thong and was delighted to find my hunch worked. Either by accident or by design, I could attach the two halves of the thong's side strap to the suspender attachment clasps at the front and back of the basque. I did the same at the other side and pulled the adjusters tight. This forced Helen's thong tight up against her pussy and she wriggled with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.
“Hey, that's not fair," she protested, pulling at the scarf around her wrists.
"There, how does that feel?"
"Even more frustrating than before. You're trying to humiliate me and take advantage of the state you've got me into. This was supposed to be as much for my enjoyment as yours wasn't it? And you just seem to be getting your pleasure from seeing my discomfort. You're, you're a bitch! I thought you were a …"
I interrupted her with a suggestion:
“Try rocking your pelvis and see what happens." I untied her wrists so she didn't loose her balance but Helen actually looked quite disappointed so I tied them together in front of her with the same scarf.
Helen thrust her hips forward and back a couple of times now that the thong was attached to her basque and not around her waist. As she moved her hips the mesh fabric between her legs rubbed back and forth over her pussy, just as I had hoped. "Oh, … that's goooooood, " she sighed, and moved some more, "but I really don't think I can come like this."
"Let me help …" I offered, and shortened the wide shoulder straps of her basque. This pushed her boobs closer together and lifted them higher on her chest, putting more pressure on her erect nipples as they pressed against the mesh bra-cups. But the design of the basque was such that the shoulder straps continued in long webs right down the front and back of the garment and terminated at the suspender attachment clasps. So, by shortening the shoulder strap adjusters I had also pulled her thong tighter up between her legs.
Helen moaned and thrust her hips purposefully. "Oh, that's even better. Mmmmmm …"
"Tighter?" I asked.
Helen nodded excitedly and I pulled the shoulder adjustments as tight as they would go. She spread her stocking-encased legs wide apart and the thong all but disappeared deep between her engorged pussy lips.
"Tighter! Tighter!" she demanded, “Please!!” But I'd run out of adjustment.
"Lift your hands above your head!" I commanded and Helen obeyed. The effect was devastating because, as she raised her arms the tension on the shoulder straps pulled the basque high, high on her rib cage and rammed her thong harder into her crack.
Helen was panting and shaking. I was afraid she would go weak at the knees and lose the pulling effect but I had another idea still to try. Holding Helen's arms high above her head by the scarf that bound them, I walked her the length of the room. Every small step sent a shudder through her body as the tight thong rasped against her clit and pussy-gash.
When we reached the far wall, I turned her to face me and, staring deep into her dark eyes, I reached up and attached the free end of the scarf to a ring fixed to the wall, presumably for just such a purpose. I tied the scarf so Helen's arms stretched high in the air and the thong pulled so hard I feared the pain might mask the pleasure.
No worries there; Helen took over and established a rhythm. She lifted herself onto her tip-toes to relieve some of the pressure and rotated her hips in alternate directions. Then she bent her knees so most of her weight was taken on her tethered arms causing the thong to dig deeper into her soft, tormented pussy.
Helen let out a long deep moan and repeated the sequence several more times.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh. Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhh, no, no, yes, yes yessssss, no, … mmmMMMMMmmmmm"
Then she lifted herself onto her toes again and, keeping her upper body still, she used those tight tummy muscles to thrust her pelvis forward and backwards in long slow decisive movements. She'd managed to release just enough tension on the thong straps that she was then able to rub her swollen clit against the inside of the mesh fabric.
I could only imagine what the feelings must have been like as she gave herself the pantie-frig of a lifetime. I sensed she was getting close to orgasm and gestured to untie the scarf but she shook her head. Instead she slowed her rhythm almost to a standstill before gradually building back up again from those almost indiscernible movements.
As her speed increased she started to loose control. Her face became contorted and her whole body began to shake. Finally, she lifted her feet right off the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest so her whole weight was taken by her bound wrists and the thong cut deep, deep into her.
She screamed.
"Yaaaahhhhhhhhh. Mmmmmmmmm. Oh, oh, oh yessssssssssss!" she cried as her orgasm finally arrived.
Taking her weight on her feet again, she twisted and writhed in pleasure and release as she extracted the maximum enjoyment out of her climax. I certainly derived a great deal of pleasure just watching her although I didn't come myself.
I also noticed just how much Helen enjoyed having her wrists bound and wondered if I would like that too.
As she calmed down, I released Helen's arms from the wall ring and untied them. She rubbed her wrists as she sank to the floor and she loosened the shoulder straps of her basque. Unclipping the thong, she extracted it from the soft folds between her legs, rubbing her pussy for the first time.
I feared she would be angry with me, until she spoke:
"Wow, Julia, that was terrific. Thanks!" Her cheeks were rosy red and her face and neck were wet with perspiration.
"But Helen," I replied, "I didn't touch you, you did that all yourself."
"Well, yes, but you set me up for this, you scheming bitch."
"Complaining?"
"No"
"Happy?"
"Definitely"
“Sore?”
“A bit”
"Get dressed and we'll go back to enjoy the party.”
It was gone 11:00 pm when we wandered back into the PROM reception area. The few people still there smiled sweetly and knowingly. Zöe and Yasmin strolled out of Red, arm in arm and asked if we knew where Linda was. This confirmed my suspicions: that she is rarely to be seen at these events, preferring to keep a low profile in her office and trusting her staff to entertain her company's clients.
Kirsten blew a kiss to a client who was just leaving and waved to me across the room before departing.
I took a taxi home and showered before climbing into bed. I mulled over the evening's events and thought about my mission to 'satisfy' Linda. Unable to sleep, I masturbated myself slowly and tenderly to a quietly satisfying orgasm to relieve the pent-up tension and excitement of my 'session' with Helen, the images of her lean and tethered body still crystal clear in my mind.
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Early May found me hard at work around the stores as well as performing my secondary role as company spy, searching out new styles and ideas introduced by Passionella's competitors and ensuring that other brands were not overshadowing our store displays. I also purchased competitors' products to test the store staff's knowledge of their various brands and products.
I was also spending time at home, supervising the decorators who were implementing my scheme to improve the decoration of my apt without changing its fundamentally Minimalist feel. Terri was complaining about the difficulty of keeping it clean and tidy whilst the work went on but I promised her a special treat when it was all over.
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When the day finally arrived for me to ‘Mystery Shop' Linda I was very nervous, but any negative thoughts were more than cancelled out by the feelings of responsibility and trust placed in me by Emma and Kirsten. Anyway, I liked Linda and she was the owner of the company that employed me. If I could make her happy and at the same time, maybe, improve my employment chances, I'd give it my best shot. I'd dearly wanted to settle an old score with Mrs G too; revenge is sweet, as they say.
First decision: what to wear? Even though I'd had weeks to plan, I was still undecided. I was looking for a mix of my Recruitment Executive alter ego spiked with sensual temptress. It was the sensual temptress bit that I found difficult to carry off on a Thursday morning in central London. Finally I settled on the suit I'd bought with no particular situation in mind - a shimmering satin fabric in a French Mustard hue with a wrap-over double-breasted jacket (the irony made me smile too) and a calf-length skirt with mid-thigh-high splits up both sides. I'm sure the designer had his own idea of what should be worn underneath but I chose one of my new uplift-for-a-deep-cleavage bras in a strong blue with decorated edges to the cups and narrow twin shoulder straps. The panties consisted of a fairly large triangle of matching blue fabric with similar detailing along its top edge, identical narrow twin straps around the hips meeting at the back at a tiny triangle securing them to the thin web that would soon be nestling in the crack between my tight gym-honed bum cheeks. And nothing else. Except for a pair of dark hold-up lace-topped stockings.
I showered thoroughly, pampered myself to death, shaved my bikini line but left a light re-growth of pubic hair in a small neat shield-like shape. I painted my finger and toenails to match my underwear and applied a minimum of carefully-chosen make-up. I wondered aloud as I dusted and brushed, how many people at Passionella have actually noticed that normally I don't wear any make-up?
I finished my bowl of muesli and downed a second cup of herbal tea before dressing. I slipped my pants over my hips and wriggled them into position, enjoying the feel of quality materials next to my skin. I threaded my arms into the bra and fastened the clasp behind my back. Looking in the mirror, I almost gasped out loud as I hardly recognised my breasts. Thrust upwards and forwards by the combination of my arms being pushed right back and the clever design of the bra cups. More than half of the large rounded mounds of my breasts was exposed and they swelled firmly and provocatively towards the mirror. Then, when I dropped my arms to my sides, my twin perfectly-rounded hemispheres pressed together so aggressively that they almost touched. A cleavage of such magnificence and glossy-magazine perfection such as I'd never experienced before.
I pulled on my stockings and stepped into my flowing skirt before slipping my arms into the smooth-satin lined sleeves of my wrap-over jacket. I admired the effect in the long mirror, twisting and leaning to replicate the positions I might have reason to adopt later that morning. I thought I may have overdone the sensual seductress bit as all the world would be convinced I had no bra under my day clothes and yet no-one, not even Rachel, has breasts that shape without any support. I laughed out loud with self-satisfaction and leaned forward one last time to check that the most determined voyeur might see the teasing sculpted edges of my bra cups should they try hard enough. The tops of my stockings were visible if I stood with my legs apart, causing my skirt to ride up, but not when I walked.
The excitement was reaching my pussy and I feared that I would spoil my lovely briefs with my juices so early in the day. In a moment of madness, I decided to travel to Regent Street by tube rather than taxi, just to see the effect I would have on my fellow travellers. The outrageous risk to my personal safety did not enter my head as I slung a small bag over my shoulder and strode out into the street.
The journey was easily as amusing and entertaining as any confirmed observer of the lecherous side of human behaviour could have wished for.
The doorman at the Regent Street fashion and furnishings store opened the large ornate door wide for me and smiled discreetly. I slipped a small coin into his hand. I wondered what he might slip into his hand that night if he'd been able to witness what I had planned for Linda.
I browsed through the day and evening wear sections of the store and enjoyed the polite and helpful attentions of the staff who recognised me as an irregular but loyal customer. I sat at the counter of the espresso bar on a high stool, oblivious to the attention my stocking-clad legs attracted, whilst running over my plans for Linda's enjoyment and, hopefully, her release from the chains of her auto-celibacy.
I strolled discreetly into the Passionella sales display area, trying not to attract too much attention too soon and browsed through the beautiful items on show.
I noticed a slightly-built young woman sporting a Passionella badge standing near to the private changing rooms. She made brief eye-contact with me then looked away again. A less well-trained shop girl might have rushed up to me and asked if she could help. But no, this young lady gave me all the time I needed to browse but ensured she always stood where I could see her so I could invite her over with the smallest nod or gesture.
But where was Linda? I hoped she hadn't altered her itinerary at the last moment - I'd double-checked with Emma earlier that morning. Then to my relief I saw her emerge from the storeroom looking slightly flustered, arms laden with new stock. I was pleased to see she was experiencing one of the less enjoyable aspects of shop work. Linda had her long, wavy dark hair neatly piled high on her head and wore a smartly-cut high-necked sleeveless dress in corporate burgundy fabric of the very best quality. I strode across to the two women.
Linda made eye-contact for a couple of seconds, long enough to confirm that she recognised me but not long enough to suggest that she was expecting me nor that she resented my presence. I made some inconsequential conversation with the sales Dem who's name was Danielle then turned to Linda and spoke to her as though we had never met before, to avoid raising Danielle's suspicions.
"Could you help me to chose some lingerie please?"
"Of course, that's what I'm here for," replied Linda, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm. "Do you have anything particular in mind?" she enquired.
We exchanged pertinent questions and plausible replies. I wasn't being deliberately uncooperative but Linda became edgy when I wouldn't give her much to go on. I picked a few pieces off the rails and asked to try them on but was unable to find the Mesh range I needed to be able to re-enact my session with Helen
"Do you have anything new?" I enquired and Linda turned to the stock she had been carrying. She knew I'd been at the launch so she didn't try to oversell the line. She asked me if I'd like to try something and she helped me to locate the basque and thong I needed.
"We have black or white, the other colours are not yet available. Any preference?"
My perfect cue.
"I'd like to try both in order to decide."
Deep breath.
"If I try on the white, will you model the black for me please? Then I can compare them side by side."
Linda looked at me as though she could kill me but she stayed calm. What could she say in front of Danielle? She had promised her staff she would do everything they are expected to do in the course of her 'back to the floor' week.
Linda selected her size in black and we locked the changing room door behind us, but not before Linda had reassured Danielle: "We won't be long; look after the sales floor please."
As soon as the door was secure, Linda turned to face me. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You're paid to mystery-shop my staff, not me. Who's checking up on who? What am I going to gain from this? I've been in this business for years and I doubt that you … "
As Linda ranted at me I put a finger to my lips. "Danielle will hear you. What will she think?"
Then I looked deep into Linda's clear blue eyes and held her gaze. This defused her annoyance and she turned away for a moment, then looked back. She took a deep breath and was about to speak when I started to slowly unbutton my jacket. I'm not sure if she'd really noticed my clothes but she took more interest now as even Linda the professional speculated on what I might or might not be wearing underneath.
I slipped the designer-label jacket off my shoulders, pushing my arms back just as I had when admiring my boobs in the mirror at home. Linda raised her dark, neatly-plucked eyebrows briefly in admiration, and correctly named the precise Passionella style, size and colour of my bra. I congratulated her with a purr and dropped my head forward, looking up at her seductively. I glanced down at my cleavage and back up to hold Linda's stare again.
"Nice?" I asked.
You're a lucky girl, Julia. You wear our products well but that bra makes you look, well, trashy. It's too overtly sexy for day wear."
"But Linda," I purred as I carefully hung my jacket on the rail. "I like to feel sexy and I like to be overt when I'm in the mood. I'm an individual. Do I shock you? Don't forget, the word 'overt' comes from the French for 'open' "
"I've seen it all before," Linda replied with a shrug.
"Not yet, you haven't" I countered, and leaned forward more than was necessary to slip my skirt down over my nylon-encased thighs. When I stood up again, I posed a little then turned through 360 degrees, stopping momentarily to show off each side profile and my back view. Linda seemed to be mellowing a little so I lessened my assertiveness and role-played some more, adopting an affected tone of voice.
"The black is my second choice at the moment," I mused, "but I could change my mind, if you'd kindly model for me."
Linda started to undress, making no attempt to hide her displeasure: "You've tricked me into this. I'll go through with this for the benefit of the company, but I'll see you in my office this afternoon."
She reached behind to the fastening of her modest dress but I motioned her hand away so I could do it for her. I slowly dragged down the zipper, pressing my hand into her back all the way down her spine to her coccyx.
Linda closed her eyes.
I slipped the dress off her shoulders and she wriggled out of it.
Underneath she was wearing a plain camisole over pretty but 'sensible' bra and pants, which she removed fairly unceremoniously. Her body looked good for her age which I'd previously guessed at 33 years. Her boobs were not exceptionally large and she had a full rib cage so I estimated her to be a 36B. Her nipples were small but with dark, round, perfectly formed areolae.
Linda stepped into the black Mesh thong and set the sides neatly on her hipbones. I picked up the basque and held it so she could put her arms through the straps. She smiled a little and thanked me so I offered to do up the back fastening hooks. She assented; she'd have struggled to do them up by herself; this was definitely a garment to share with a friend.
She was obviously enjoying having someone help her to dress. As far as I knew, she lived alone and although she seemed highly sociable, I didn't think she had many close friends so perhaps she appreciated the intimacy. Or maybe this just reinforced the superior/subordinate relationship between us, like I was her maid. But would she help me ?
I turned my back to her so she could unfasten my bra but she made to attempt to. I could see her in the mirror; she was looking down at my all-but-naked bum. "Could you … ?"
"Oh, sorry." She undid me and I peeled the bra off my boobs. I turned around and cupped my breasts tenderly. I massaged them and commented on the feeling of freedom upon being released from one of Passionella's most uplifting products. Linda watched as I squeezed and released them but I wished I could have seen her expression as I bent forward to remove my pants.
I slid into my white Mesh basque and turned my back to Linda so she could clip me into it but she just stood with her arms folded. I reached behind me and, as I struggled to fasten the hooks, I watched Linda in the mirror. She looked around the room and made disapproving noises. "Hurry up, Julia, " she sighed.
"But Linda, your company sells these products. You need to understand how your customers feel in the changing room situation when they try them on. They need the sales demonstrators to be helpful and make it easy for them, make them feel good about the products and themselves."
"Oh, OK, come here."
I stepped towards Linda but stood facing her so the only way she could fasten me up was to reach her arms around my sides. Our faces came very close together and Linda had to stand back a little to avoid pressing her breasts against mine. I looked straight at her and she tried to avert my gaze. To reach the lower fastenings she had to squat, which must have been hard for her as it put her in an inferior position. It also meant that my tummy was directly in front of her and her nose was barely 8 inches from my pussy. Would she notice my aroma? I was getting more than a little turned on by having the company president clipping me into a tight basque whilst crouched in front of my naked pussy in a locked room. I sensed that the atmosphere was becoming highly charged
I didn't want her to see how swollen my pussy lips were becoming so I stepped briskly into the white Mesh thong and stood next to Linda. We looked at each other in the wall-to wall mirrors.
Linda was the first to speak: "You look good in white, it complements your skin tone. Turn around, please."
I wished she would relax her formality, but I obliged without comment. I turned slowly and sensually, posing coyly at each turn and adopting my best 'photo-studio' glance-over-the-shoulder expression. I faced Linda and leaned forward a little with my shoulders pushed back so my boobs thrust forward prominently. Linda smiled sweetly and commented: "you know all your best features; I'm eternally grateful to Kirsten for recruiting you. You are very popular with the Dems, you know they look forward to your visits to their stores, don't you?"
I feigned a bashful expression whilst savouring her rare compliments. "Thanks, you are so kind. You look good yourself too. Have you ever modelled?"
Linda suddenly looked serious and I apologised.
"I'm sorry if I pried into your personal life; I have no idea what you did before you started Passionella UK"
"Julia," Linda replied in a slightly wavering voice, "no-one at Passionella knows that," then she changed the subject abruptly, asking: "What's it to be, black or white?"
This gave me an excuse to admire Linda's body in close detail before I returned to my role-play persona.
"The black basque is very seductive; the contrast between the mesh and your skin is very, what can I say, Cabaret, do you know what I mean? Whereas my white is more, how can I put it, Girls' School?"
Linda's face turned pale. I needed to defuse the situation quickly; I'd touched a raw nerve but there was something else of Linda's that I wanted to touch much more than that!
Struggling to keep to the plot, I planted my hands on my hips to signal a dilemma. "I have problem. I'm looking for something to wear under a new evening dress I recently purchased. It has a slit right up one side, (I ran my finger up the outside of my thigh), almost up to my waist and I'm worried that the sides of this thong will show (then I ran my finger along the inside of the waistband). Can I try something?" I suggested tentatively.
Linda said nothing and I approached her cautiously. Fingers trembling, I knelt down, unclipped one side of her thong and attached the straps to the vacant suspender clasps on the lower edge of her basque, just as I had with Helen at the product launch. Linda raised her arm slightly to make this task easier so I took that as a sign of approval and shuffled around to her other side and repeated my adjustment to her lingerie.
Linda turned side-on to the mirror and admired the effect. She seemed to like what she saw.
"Hmm, that's a clever idea, we'll have to transfer you to the design department," she quipped sarcastically and continued to move and pose. I sensed that she was warming up.
"Come on, you too, she encouraged, “we're comparing, don't forget." Linda unclipped my thong and expertly attached the Kissing Lips Logo clasps to the bottom edge of my basque in the same way.
Then she pulled my straps tight. "Like it?" she enquired. I was afraid I might lose the upper hand.
"Try it yourself, then you'll know" I countered, my mouth becoming dry as the sexual temperature rose in the room. I moved towards Linda but she completed the job herself, pulling her thong straps taught against her skin. "Oh, yes, that feels much better," she commented, half to me and half to herself as she stood square on to the mirror, straightened her long slender legs and moved her feet slightly apart on the carpeted floor. She rocked her hips a little, seemingly lost in her own thoughts now as though I wasn't there. I sensed she was letting go and allowing her feelings to build inside. She closed her eyes and let out a warm sigh.
When she opened them, she saw the reflection of me standing next to her. I led her on, hoping that she would pick up my rhythm and mimic my movements, like a sexually-charged game of Simon Says. It worked
I rotated my hips clockwise; Linda copied.
I rotated them the other way; Linda copied.
I held my left wrist with my right hand and pressed the back of my right hand against my forehead; Linda copied exactly. It was working; I had Linda eating out of my hand and I proceeded to put on my very best exhibitionist-model-meets-soft-porn-movie-star show and she followed faithfully. I was getting so horny, due in part to the effect of the tight thong between my legs and in part to the whole erotic situation that was unfolding.
But could I actually bring the reluctant, self-denying Linda to orgasm? Without either of us touching her?
We whispered meaningless words of encouragement to each other and I realised that now Linda was taking the lead and I was following. 'Maybe his will be the only way,' I thought to myself, 'maybe Linda needs to maintain her position of authority'.
As if to reinforce this, Linda moved her feet together and stood tall. She seemed to tower over me and she beckoned me to come closer. I knelt in mock submission and I could see her pubic hair parted either side of the thong that was now disappearing into the soft folds of her presidential pussy. Then Linda reached down and roughly pulled the shoulder straps of my basque tighter, transferring the tension down to my thong straps.
‘Hey,' I thought, ‘that's my plan!' My thong pressed hard against my pussy and I felt my inner lips ooze and slide out around its edges. I tried to keep still to prevent it from rubbing against my clit as I couldn't afford to loose self-control now and come too early.
Still kneeling, I focussed again on Linda. I reached to similarly tighten her basque straps but winced and had to pull back. The effect of stretching up had the same result as Helen experienced in the PROM private room. The extra pull on the basque as I raised my arms pulled my thong hard against my bud, so hard I couldn't bear it. I looked up at Linda in her superior position and batted my eyelashes seductively. Linda smiled a knowing smile.
"Huh, can't you take it? Too much for you? No staying power, my sweet Julia? Now do you realise what you put poor Helen through? What torment she suffered? Eh?"
I panicked. How did she know about Helen? Surely she wouldn't have told the president what we did? That breaks one of the company rules of complete discretion between Dem and client.
I couldn't think of anything to say. I opened my mouth but nothing came out except a long low moan. Linda did not speak but she tightened her own straps with confident, exaggerated movements. She tilted her head back and looked down at me with her lips slightly apart. She ran her tongue along her top lip then back along her bottom lip, leaving a moist trail of sticky saliva. I came out in goose-pimples and a shiver ran down my spine.
Then Linda totally stunned me. She held out her arms on front of her with her wrists crossed and spoke commandingly:
"Do the same to me, like you did to poor Helen. Come on, don't be shy."
She obviously knew what came next so I couldn't feign ignorance. I was now about to bind the wrists of the company president, at her insistence. If I misjudged the situation now I could get fired or arrested.
I stood up gingerly and selected a soft leather belt from the rack of accessories on the far wall. I passed the free end through the buckle to form a loop and slipped it over Linda's hands. Immediately she raised her arms above her head and looked up at the changing room ceiling.
The translucent ceiling was made from canvas stretched over a grid of interlocking metal bars. I hesitated and searched for confirmation. "You want me to … over the bar .. the belt …?"
"Just do it, Julia. You know what to do."
But the only way I could reach was to stand on a stool and stretch my arms up high. This caused my thong to tighten between my legs and send a bolt of ecstasy through my pussy, causing me to almost lose my balance. I'm sure Linda would have grabbed me in an embrace to steady me if her hands weren't tethered, and who knows where that might have led.
I tied the belt to the ceiling bars. "Tighter" instructed Linda. I obliged, pulling on the free end of the belt.
Stepping off the stool I stood and stared at Linda. She looked so helpless but so very sexy. Her breasts were lifted high on her ribs and her abdominal muscles pulled her tummy flat and taught like a teenager's. The black mesh thong had all but disappeared into the folds of her pussy and her ample dark pubic hair. She had her eyes half closed and she stood almost motionless.
"Strip!" she commanded me.
What could I say.
"Very slowly." she added.
I put on my very best show. I desperately wanted to take off my thong to remove the pressure on my swollen bud but I couldn't rush my performance. This was going to be a fine dividing line between my own pleasure and hers - could I bring Linda to orgasm before I came myself? Is this what Linda wanted, a challenge, a race to the finish?
As I moved and posed, Linda gyrated and wriggled her hips, which turned me on even more. I detached my thong from the clasps on the basque and eagerly anticipated the relief this would bring to my already horny pussy. But instead of relief, I was rewarded with a sudden rush of blood to my cunt lips and my clit as I peeled away the tight, constricting mesh fabric from between my legs. My knees went weak and Linda let out a long 'mmmmmm' at the sight.
"Take off your basque now and let me see your tits, Julia", she growled.
I had to reach behind me to unclip the numerous hooks, the effect of which was to press my hard, engorged nipples firmly against their captors. The other effect was to give Linda a treat as my firm breasts spilled over the top of the cups.
Finally I stood naked before my employer.
What next? I wondered.
"Cup your breasts," she instructed.
Obligingly I slipped my hands under my heavy, sweating boobs and lifted them, as if offering them to my master on a silver platter.
"Well done. Now squeeze your nipples."
Linda either hadn't realised just how close I was to coming or she was deliberately pushing me to my limits of endurance and self-denial. I found the whole situation fabulously arousing, far more so that I could possibly have imagined, and was unsure just how much of a show I'd be able to put on for her before tipping myself over the edge, but I decided to try my best.
I cupped my outspread hands over my breasts, allowing my swollen nipples to extrude between my second and third fingers. Then I closed my fingers, trapping my highly-sensitive buds. Slowly I moved my hands away from my soft fleshy mounds, pulling and stretching my dark nipples and areolae into long cones. The feelings were indescribable and my exposed pussy pulsed in appreciation. I opened my fingers again and my nipples quickly retracted back to their usual, albeit highly erect, shape. The rush of blood back into them as I released them sent a second wave of sexual messages through my nervous system and I let out a muted cry.
"No, squeeze them between your fingers and thumbs," demanded Linda.
I obeyed.
"And roll them, yes, good, and pull them too. Harder, squeeze them harder!" Linda's instructions came in a more urgent, breathless staccato. Feelings of pain merged with feelings of pleasure and my brain could not easily distinguish the two. I knew I was enjoying the sensations, but I was unsure if it was the pleasure or the pain that I enjoyed more. My nipples were more sensitive than I could ever remember and I wanted Linda to feel how hard they were. More than that, I wanted her to kiss them and lick them and suck them into her mouth. To roll her tongue around them and along their distended length and to cool them by blowing softly on their wetness with the breath from her pouting, luscious lips. I wanted her to bite them between her teeth, gently but firmly. I wanted my fingers to be her fingers, turning me on more than I could stand. My mind was swimming in an increasingly delirious sea of arousal.
Then came another instruction
“Dance!”
I danced and twisted. I gyrated and I swayed. I tried my best but my mind was on other things. Actually, on just one thing that was making its presence felt: my hot, twitching and desperately horny clit was sending shots of sexual electricity up my belly and via my erect nipples to my brain, than all the way back again.
I looked at Linda. She was repeatedly opening and closing her eyes and her body was covered in perspiration. Just like Helen had, she occasionally bent her knees to heighten the sensation between her legs then stiffened, crossing her ankles and clamping her thighs tight together. She was obviously highly aroused, but would she be able to reach that elusive climax? What more would she expect of me? I was ecstatic but determined to hold out, in the faint hope that Linda would come before me.
Linda's Mesh lingerie cut into her flesh on her shoulders and her pubic mound as she reached her arms high into the air. “Take this thong off me, Julia,” she pleaded, “my pussy's so hot. I need to feel the sensations in my clit, Julia.” That's what I wanted to hear; I was now sure that Linda felt able to come. She wanted to and believed she could.
I reached down and unclipped the tight straps of her thong from the bottom of her basque. Her Mesh thong fell to the floor and her top rode up higher on her torso, lifting her small breasts. The sweet aroma of her sex filled the air and I dared to look down to see her dark cunt lips between her parted thighs.
“Do you like to look at other women's pussies, Julia? She asked. I looked up at her face and nodded bashfully.
“So do I, Julia,” she replied. “Show me yours, Julia. Show me your pussy, please Julia," she insisted. "Open it up so I can see."
I hesitated but I'd have done anything for dear Linda. So I sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall and I pulled up my knees. Slowly I spread my feet wide apart on the floor and I opened my legs. My pussy was so wet that it squelched as my lips parted and sex-juice oozed from my vagina and ran down my perineum. The cool air on my open cunt brought just a little temporary relief from the intensity of stimulation so I dared to I run my fingers along my bare inner thighs above the lacy tops of my stockings and I looked up at Linda.
But she was still firmly bound to the ceiling supports so she could do none of these things. She couldn't touch herself even if she wanted to.
Then another command arrived: "Open your cunt wide. Pull your lips apart so I can really see you."
'Oh shit,' I thought, 'I can't stand this.' I was now convinced that actually she was just being sadistic. I stalled but compelled myself to move my hands slowly over my abdomen, as much for myself as for Linda's pleasure and to delay the moment when I would actually touch myself in front of my boss. Sliding my two index fingers over my neat shield of short pubic hair, I let them rest together, concealing my slit from her view. Then I looked up at Linda and slowly moved my fingers apart, peeling my inner lips apart to expose the inner pink wetness of my vagina.
Linda moaned and ground her hips in circles. Her cunt looked wild and horny and deliciously sexy as she thrust her pelvis towards me. I wanted to reach out and touch her but did not dare take such a risk.
"Rub your clit, Julia," came my next orders. I almost came just at the mere thought.
Submissively I dragged both fingers slowly up my pussy and moved them together when they reached what seemed like the centre of my universe. I pressed my clit and I shook uncontrollably. I couldn't remember ever being so turned on and so close to orgasm but still being able to hold back and prevent myself from coming. The feelings were of intense self-inflicted torture, as though I dare not even blink in case the movement should tip me over the brink. I felt very weak. I removed one hand to support myself and lay on my left side. I lifted my right stocking-clad leg high and I frigged myself. Yes, right there in front of Linda, company president, currently tethered but still very much in control, I brushed my finger over my clit. Round and round, up and down and from side to side, barely touching my pulsing pink bud, extracting the last few seconds of self-restraint from the depths of my consciousness.
Linda's cunt was fat and engorged. Her lips sparkled with her wetness and the muscles inside her thighs tensed spasmodically. I sensed that Linda's end was coming soon and I took a huge chance.
"It's OK, Linda, you can come now. It's all right, really. Mrs Grundleton is away today."
Linda froze.
"Relax, She's not here today. She won't find us. We can have some fun; I won't tell"
Linda faltered, her throat dry and her voice weak: "Are you … sure?"
"Yes," I reassured her, "I saw her leave."
"You mean, no-one will hear us?" she asked.
"Yes, we're alone. Totally alone. No-one will interrupt us. No-one will punish us," I confirmed.
"But, I've been naughty, I deserve to be punished." Linda continued.
"This is your punishment. You've been very bad, that's why you're tied up. So you can't masturbate. So you can't come."
"But I can. You can't stop me," Linda retorted, defiantly.
"You can't come because you can't touch yourself. You're not allowed to."
"But I can come. I know I can. Watch me."
Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. She rocked on her heels and she rolled her pelvis.
"Is this what they did?" I taunted. "The girls, on their beds, where you could see them? Did they show you their pussies? Did they masturbate in front of you when they knew you couldn't? Did they come, Linda? Did they?"
Linda nodded. "Yes, but they weren't like you,” she whispered. “They didn't turn me on the way you do. Since the day I first saw you, my pussy has ached for you. I've experienced feelings that I forgotten I'd ever known. You, you, you make me … I need to … I can… I'm going to …"
Linda had her eyes closed - she didn't need me now. She was lost in her own sensations and her movements became rapid and erratic. She was moaning and panting and her pubic hair glistened with her moisture.
Then suddenly she half-whispered and half-screamed: “Fuck you, Mrs Grundleton" and erupted in a powerful, shuddering orgasm.
It went on for ages. Linda lifted one foot off the floor and crossed her calf above her other knee. She let out a long, low, animal cry as she thrust her pelvis and curled her shoulders forward into the nearest she could get to the foetal position, considering the inconvenience of having her arms tied above her head. She contorted and squirmed and, sure that she'd fallen over the parapet of ecstasy into the long descent of gratification, I let myself go too and came with a muffled cry as I bit my bottom lip.
I lay on my back exhausted and stared at the ceiling.
When the sensations had subsided, Linda looked down at me lying on the floor, legs now stretched out straight and wide apart.
Considering the enormity and significance of what had just happened, I fully expected Linda to either cry or to offer some explanation of her behaviour. But no. Linda calmly asked me to release her wrists and she slipped out of her black Mesh basque. Her shoulders bore deep, red marks from the tightness of the straps and she rubbed her wrists a couple of times. We sat quietly to collect ourselves and get our breath back.
Neither of us spoke but I took Linda's lead and we dressed in our day clothes. I didn't dare to wear any pants as my pussy was far too sensitive. However, I slipped into my bra even though it tormented my swollen breasts, as the alternative of having my bare nipples rub against the fabric of my jacket would have been too unbearable to even contemplate.
"We'll take a cab to PROM," Linda announced in a matter-of-fact tone. "Wait on the pavement for 10 minutes after we arrive; I'll tell Rachel that I'm expecting you so she'll send you straight up."
We emerged from the changing room together and I avoided the Danielle's gaze and that of several curious clients queuing to use the room. They must have heard us; what will they think? And say?
Linda & I sat in silence for the whole cab ride. She strode purposefully into her company HQ and the door swung shut behind her. Feeling vulnerable and abandoned, I stood outside looking like a high-class hooker and received several unwelcome propositions whilst I counted to 599 under my breath.
"Hello Julia," greeted Rachel. For once I took no notice of her clothes. "Go straight up, Linda's expecting you." I walked up the stairs carefully so as not to expose my sore and naked pussy through the side splits of my skirt.
Linda's office door was open. "Come in," she called, "and close the door." I did.
Linda sat on one of her two plush sofas and motioned for me to sit opposite, where I pondered my fate.
"How did you know?" she demanded, sternly. "Who told you?"
"Told me what?" I asked, knowing full well, but buying time like a seasoned politician during a difficult TV interview.
"Not what, who."
"Who? Oh, her, Mrs er, Mrs, what was her name?"
"Yes, you know," retorted Linda in an agitated tone "You know her name, you said it. Yes, Mrs Grundleton of course. Who else?"
No sense in pretending. "Partly school gossip and partly my powers of deduction," I replied. (I didn't actually lie, I just left out the third part i.e. that Kirsten and Emma had told me the whole story).
"I picked up odd snippets about you from my colleagues and put them together with what I'd heard about an incident at my school years before. I formed a hypothesis and tested it, gradually realising that the legend fitted you perfectly."
I could have continued but decided that we might as well get to the dismissal bit as quickly and painlessly as possible, so I shut up. I'd blown my dream job through a mixture of well-meaning but misguided desire to help a woman with a sexual hang-up (which was really none of my business) and sheer self-indulgence at her expense. Shit, shit, shit.
"Well, Julia,” Linda continued, “I can't even start to tell you how grateful I am. Thank you.”
If I hadn't been encased in the deep folds of Linda's sofa, I would have fallen off my seat.
"We have a lot to talk about - can you do lunch tomorrow?" she asked.
I could hardly refuse.
*********************************************
We met at my favourite restaurant in St Christopher's Place and made some small-talk. Linda was dressed less formally than usual and had an easy, relaxed air about her that I hadn't seen before. She wore a skinny ribbed jumper and tight trousers with slits half way up her calves. She picked at her salad and passed on dessert, ordering a double espresso, which she nursed close to her at the edge of the table. Then she looked up at me and started to speak softly.
She proceeded to tell me all the key points in her life since her 30 days of torment at school right up to the present day, including the creation of Passionella UK, the whole idea of the Private Rooms, the role of the Sales Demonstrators and the importance of the in-store changing rooms. She recounted everything that Kirsten and Emma had told me, and a whole lot more besides. Her life since that boarding-school incident had had a single purpose i.e. to encounter as many attractive, sophisticated, sensual women as possible and to place them in varied erotic situations in the seemingly vain hope that one day she could find a woman who could turn her on so much that she could once more reach orgasm.
Feeling brave, I asked: "was that, actually, well, er, the first orgasm you've had for, what, 15 years?"
Linda nodded.
“16”
I sat back in my chair. "Oh, Linda, you poor thing. How could you …"
Linda interrupted: "It's not what I could , it's what I couldn't that meant I had to go without for so long. Oh, Julia, I'd have loved to come. Don't you think I tried? I've been through hell. I can't start to tell you some of the lengths I went to, to try to achieve what I did, sorry, we did, yesterday.”
“You see," she continued, "I feel sick if I try to touch my own genitals, many times I have actually been physically sick. You must understand that I couldn't possibly be intimate with anyone when I couldn't bear even the thought of them touching me."
"Why do you think you felt that way?" I enquired, fearing that I might pry too closely.
"Firstly, use the past tense with care. I don't suppose that one incident yesterday will have 'cured' me overnight; I haven't tried to masturbate yet. But, I know exactly why I find sex so repulsive."
I sat forward on the edge of my chair.
"At night, in the school, when I was handcuffed to my bed, some of the girls would parade in front of me, performing mock and real sex acts. I guess you knew that." I nodded.
"But it got worse until one night, someone gagged me and fondled me. First my body, then my breasts. Then she touched my pussy and tried to masturbate me. I struggled but couldn't stop her. My tightly-secured body was sending mixed messages; I was aroused from the tauntings and teasings of the other girls and in some ways the attention was welcome. Unable to fend her off, really I wanted to come, but I needed to know who's finger was on my trigger. I forced my eyes open to try to see who it was and in the faint moonlight, I realised it was her."
"Who, surely not, Mrs Grundleton?"
"Yes," Linda confirmed, "my captor, the same woman in whom my parents had entrusted my education, my well-being and my emotional development was now trying to have lesbian sex with me, the very thing for which I was being punished. The sheer hypocrisy as well as the physical abuse made me sick. Physically sick, right there in my bed. And she even punished me more the next day for soiling my bedclothes."
I didn't know what to say but I was awe-struck by Linda's openness, that she was willing to tell me all this in such intimate detail.
"Didn't you complain, or report her to the police, or tell your parents?"
Linda had tears in her eyes now. "Who'd have believed me?"
I could see her point.
"So that's why I can't bear genital stimulation, I find it quite repulsive.
But hopefully that's all history now" she continued. "Julia, I feel like today is the start of a new life for me. A fresh start - but only a start. I need to bury the past and try to build a sex life. At least I know I can still come, but I'm not sure if I can let someone touch me." Then she leant towards me. "Will you help me find out?"
I answered quickly and affirmatively without thinking, only wondering afterwards what I might have taken on. I was hardly a trained sexual psychotherapist but I wanted to help. I also grappled with the realisation that in recent months I had totally lost interest in men, preferring to derive my sexual arousal from women. By agreeing to 'help' Linda, I was in effect committing myself to a lesbian relationship. But I was not afraid. Linda had searched long and hard for a woman who could excite her to the point of orgasm, a special kind of orgasm, a Look-Don't-Touch orgasm. Obviously, I was her. Her quest was now over, I assumed, but the journey had only just begun.
"Take the rest of the day off, Julia. I'm going home and I need time to think. I'm not yet ready to try sex in any form, I need to work this through gradually. Oh, if you have any ideas …" Linda's sentence was left unfinished, but I knew the implications.
Linda paid the lunch bill and turned to leave. Then she came back and planted a big kiss full on my lips.
**********************************************
Kirsten, Emma and I met up in the new bar round the corner from the office as arranged. It was already busy with lively Saturday lunchtime customers. I explained what had happened but only after Kirsten and Emma had sworn secrecy.
"You can't just seduce her and expect to get your hands in her panties on your first night," Emma opined, "only a bloke would expect to be able to do that. And especially after what she has been through". We both nodded.
We brainstormed and skirted around the subject and discounted suggestions as quickly as they were made until Emma exclaimed 'Dildoes'. The people on the next table looked across and made sshhhh-ing noises. We continued to talk in whispers.
"If she won't let you touch her, use a sex toy. It's as close as you're likely to get without actually touching her. It's what the Dems do all the time in the changing rooms to get around Linda's LDT rule."
I protested: "But I've never used a dildo, not even on myself, let alone on anyone else."
Kirsten and Emma looked stunned. "But surely, sweetie, you must have." pressed Kirsten. "You found mine, didn't you? Surely, you tried them out?"
"No, never. I wouldn't dream of using something so personal."
"Oh, you needn't have worried. Why, Terri uses them all the time. And that 'dream', when you fucked her with my glass dildo, you didn't make that up, did you! You couldn't have; you even described perfectly the wrapping I used when I gave that glass dildo to her as a birthday present."
I could no longer be sure where reality finished and fantasy started.
"OK, no it wasn't a dream. But I made it all up, based loosely on a porn movie I watched in a hotel room and a letter I'd once read in a men's magazine about a woman who seduced her neighbour and got him to fuck her with a cucumber she'd just bought. She figured that she was still being unfaithful to her husband if her neighbour never actually touched her …"
I'd digressed, but we all realised the relevance of the story.
"There you are, Look Don't Touch! Perfect!" confirmed Kirsten.
"You'll need practice; let's call it Training," insisted Emma. I looked at Kirsten and she smiled a knowing smile. "Now?" she suggested.
"No, later. I need time.”
*****************************************************
Hi, I hope you're enjoying my story! In my next chapter, I get to spend more time in private with Kirsten.
Please write a review if you've enjoyed reading this chapter. Or send me an e-mail and tell me what you like – it's easy, just click on my author link above (Julie<->Julia) and I'll reply to all mails. I'll also let you know when my next chapters are posted. If you prefer, send me a BDSM Library private message – just click the same link. Thanks to all of you who have already posted reviews or sent messages and to all of you who are following my story as it unfolds.
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x Julia
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