Pleasure In Control

Chapter 16

I arrived at Passionella HQ at 6 pm as agreed and the building was already buzzing with excitement. The company's senior management in the desirable form of Linda, Charlotte and Emma were organising caterers, furniture and each other in equal shares but each took the time to give me a peck on both cheeks. I was ushered into Yellow private room to change and be made up (I declined, as usual) before slipping on my first outfit: a black satin uplift balcony bra with matching panties. Slim & sexy Charlotte had fitted me out with my very first Passionella uniform consisting of a jacket with three-quarter-length sleeves and wide decorated lapels in corporate burgundy, with matching tight trousers. I squeezed my body inside, breathed in deeply and sighed as I finally felt like a true Passionella girl. My boobs swelled between the jacket lapels and rose proudly from my bra. I felt terrific, excited and nervous as well as sexy and somewhat aroused by what lay ahead.

I shared the luxurious changing room with company 'Dem' Helen and her Spanish colleague Maria who would also be modelling during the evening. Both were fully informed, congratulating me on my appointment as a consultant to Passionella UK and also commenting on my prominence in the new catalogue. We chatted freely and the girls were unashamed of their curvaceous, naked bodies in my presence, touching themselves and each other in relaxed and provocative ways. But through the open door I could hear that a very different atmosphere prevailed in at least one of the other Private Rooms. The air was filled with catty bitchiness that degenerated into a slagging-off contest that was eventually terminated by a stern but fair intervention by the voluptuous Emma.

In the corridor I bumped into big-bosomed Passionella client Xara and we exchanged knowing looks. Charlotte asked if we had met before (we smiled broadly) and went on to explain that Xara was a guest model for the evening and would be wearing some special lines available in larger cup sizes. Xara asked if I fancied a 'lift' after the show; Charlotte laughed awkwardly, assuming the joke related to the capacity of Xara's bra rather than a ride in her car, but I knew to what she really referred. I declined politely; I had other plans.

Dressed and prepared, we mingled with the invited guest clients in the foyer. A buzz of excitement filled the air and everywhere seemed to be festooned with helium balloons tethered to small floor weights (in the shape of the Passionella logo) by real silk ribbons in corporate burgundy - attention to detail and no expense spared!

The new Passionella catalogue was freely available and several of the photos, including some of me, had been blown up to larger-than-life-size and hung prominently on the walls. The room was filled with the heady aroma of fine Italian espresso coffee, good food and premium-brand women's fragrances.

Diane was hardly recognisable in a severe but very sophisticated S&M outfit, all the more effective in that it concealed rather than revealed yet projected eroticism from every angle. She kissed me on both cheeks (her leather outfit squeaked erotically with her every move) and brushed aside my compliments on her catalogue photography.

The reception cocktail party would have provided a professor of body language with more material than he or she could ever need as we gestured, touched, glanced, stood and moved in countless ways, communicating every unspoken mood and relationship signal know to womankind. Several pairs and groups of attractive woman seemed to have taken overt-flirting lessons from Yasmin and Zoë who then excelled themselves in the shameless and passionate way they kissed and caressed each other as well as some of their friends and acquaintances.

I was feeling fabulous as I soaked up the atmosphere as well as the compliments and genuine admiration of colleagues and customers alike. Despite the pretence of my new 'consultant' status, I felt far more relaxed than when I'd previously hidden awkwardly behind my false 'client' persona.

Rachel looked as sexy as ever but now had her hair cut very severely and dyed jet black. She ushered my small group and I into the showroom where Linda welcomed us all and introduced the show, eliciting polite applause from the crowded room.

On the catwalk there followed the most erotically charged display of scantily-clad gorgeous women one could ever hope to see, matched only by the rapturous enthusiasm of the receptive audience. Fiona, my favourite red-head, seemed to be in a dream world as she displayed her freckled and mature yet evocative body, squeezed into an impossibly skimpy black bra and panties decorated with metallic silver designs echoing Moroccan and Turkish influences, whilst Stevie continued the Near East theme as she belly-danced her way across the stage in a gold-tasselled maroon and deep ochre plunge-neck short top and a tiny matching skirt.

Vikki strutted her stuff in a lycra creation that left nothing to the imagination, the mass of buckles and rings unable to distract attention from the clearly-defined shape of her small-but-perfectly-formed 32A breasts, her narrow waist and the prominent mound at the top of her slim thighs. Her outfit included tight gloves that were laced all the way up her upper arms and opaque tight stockings that were secured to wide suspender straps attached to the bottom edge of her suit. She walked confidently despite being elevated on 2" platform soles and 6" stiletto heels.

A huge cheer rose up as Xara made her guest appearance, striding onto the catwalk and proudly displaying her enormous breasts as they swelled alluringly out of her supportive bra. The shoulder straps carried the considerable weight of her boobs and the skilfully shaped cups moulded them into rounded, swaying spheres of seductive womanly flesh. The shear depth and prominence of her cleavage had the audience on their feet, distracted only by her equally-arresting firm, muscular legs that carried her purposefully onto the raised dais.

Unfortunately, this was my cue so I made my excuses at the table and slipped into Yellow where I slipped out of my Passionella Burgundy wear. I glanced at myself once more in the mirror to reaffirm my self-confidence and felt a light touch on my shoulder. It was Danielle who was to be my catwalk partner; she whispered a series of instructions in my ear and finally "give it all you've got." She then kissed me lightly on the neck.

The mix of chemicals that coursed through my veins and flooded into my head (arousal alloyed with adrenalin and a dash of assertiveness verging on a power-trip) buoyed me along as I strode onto the catwalk in just my black balcony bra, diminutive panties and high spike-heeled leather boots. My head swam as I soaked up the applause from the clients in such close proximity, who focussed a hundred or more eyes on my near-naked body.

I became breathtakingly aroused by the whole experience, which led me to walk and pose in ever more provocative ways. This brought further whoops and cries of approval from the gathered spectators who became my voyeurs, feasting their eyes on my body as I craved even more of their adoration. I cupped my hands under my breasts to lift them and draw attention to their shape then ran my fingertips down the shoulder straps and around the edges of the bra cups in a feigned attempt to keep the audience's eyes on the product rather than on me. I similarly ran my fingers along the narrow waist-ties of my panties, then hooked them inside and pulled them higher on my hips. My pussy twitched and contracted, flooding my panties with warm fluid as the narrow triangle of satin between my legs struggled to contain my swelling flesh. I was sure those sitting in the front row would be able to smell my scent but I unashamedly spread my legs wide apart and thrust my mound towards them. Several women reached out to try to touch my thighs but I backed away just out of their reach, shocked yet excited by the resultant feelings of power and control I could exert over them.

I noticed the gaze of the multitude of wide eyes divert away from me when, as arranged, Danielle joined me on the stage. Appreciative gasps and a ripple of applause rose up as she slipped off her long, demure white gown to expose the striking contrast of a black leather outfit into which her slender form was tightly squeezed. Her waist was pulled in sharply by a wide laced and buckled clincher and her small bare breasts were pushed upwards by a quarter-cup sling bra attached by double straps to a wide choker. Her nipples were exposed and they jutted forwards, confirming her obvious state of sexual excitement. A wide suspender traversed her tummy and supported opaque stockings whilst a skimpy leather thong struggled to conceal her outer labia.

Danielle ran her hands lightly over my arms, legs and body in a convincing act of lesbian seduction, arousing me and filling my head with barely-controllable animal desire. I felt my erect nipples press hard against the edge of my bra-cups as I stood to my full height and looked down on Danielle. She cowered as I mocked stern assertiveness and fell to her knees.

Deviating from our pre-arranged but unrehearsed act, I lifted one leg and placed my spike-heeled foot on Danielle's shoulder. She bowed down submissively and willingly; the assembled audience fell quiet. Only hushed whispers could be heard as she then bent forward and kissed the toe of my other boot.

I could hardly control myself as feelings of passion and power of an intensity that I'd never before experienced washed through me. I knew at that moment that I had found a new dimension to my sexuality. Success had bolstered my self-esteem, giving me the confidence to assert authority over others, and the feelings of power and control excited me more than I could have imagined. But I knew my compassionate nature would ensure that this power would never be misdirected. All I needed now was a willing partner who would derive as much enjoyment as I surely would from such a relationship.

Danielle stood up and took my hand, snapping me back to reality and leading me off the stage. I quickly changed into my next outfit, a very short leather dress with four narrow shoulder straps and suspenders attached to its lower edge to which I attached lace-top stockings, creating a tantalising contrast between the pretty hosiery and the harsh yet supple leather.

The next 30 minutes were a whirl of costume changes as the girls paraded ever more erotic outfits in front of the enthralled audience.

Helen looked exquisite, her slim body crushed in a tight red latex bustière that pulled in her waist and squeezed her lovely B-cup breasts together. Matching red latex panties rose high on her hips, accentuating her bum and pussy mound, and her firm upper thighs disappeared into long latex self-supporting stockings. I was next on and appreciated the help that my colleagues offered as I struggled into my cerise latex cat-suit.

As I stepped deliberately along the length of the catwalk I tried to concentrate on the audience, making eye contact with as many as possible and showing off the suit to best advantage. The aim of the show was, of course, primarily to demonstrate the new products and therefore increase sales. But my hormones had other plans. The feel of the taught latex against my skin and the heat from the lights caused me to perspire profusely. My sweat mixed with the talc and formed a slippery film between my first and second skins. As I walked, the latex slid over me and the feelings were unbelievable. I took longer strides and I twisted and contorted my torso to accentuate the sensations. I squeezed my thighs together to try to relieve some of the horny sensations in my pussy but this only made things worse. So I tried parting my legs wide and this just stretched the latex even tighter across my pussy.

There was a welded seam in the latex that was slightly thicker and tighter than the rest of the suit and it ran centrally down my belly and up between my arse-cheeks. This join worked its way into my gash and I could feel my lips open and slide against the latex either side as I moved. Instinctively I leaned back and thrust my pelvis forward. My smooth, bare mound slipped and slid over the latex that concealed it from the gaze of my appreciative audience.

Then, my sensitised clit made contact with the taut rubber seam, sending a sexual thunderbolt through my body. I grasped uncontrollably at my breasts, squeezing them and rubbing my palms over my erect nipples. I could feel them, and their hard metal adornments, through the suit and they grew larger and firmer against the latex under my hands. I rocked back and forwards, immersed in the gorgeous sensations of rubber rubbing over my engorged, tormented clit. My body ached for release as my cunt pulsed and released copious floods of lube that added to the sensual slippery sensations inside my rubber sheath. The tightness of the suit around my ribs, waist and legs left me short of breath and light-headed and also seemed to accentuate the flow of hot blood between my legs. I could easily have climaxed right there on the stage but through the fuzzy haze of my self-centred involvement I heard the music change to cue the finale.

I regained my composure and made a dignified if shaky exit, remembering I had a quick change to make and ran back to Yellow. Kirsten was waiting for me, holding my next outfit, and my special present. She helped me out of my catsuit and smiled at me as the complex aromas of the latex, my sweaty body and my aroused pussy mingled and filled the air.

Kirsten slipped the strap-in dildo into my wet and swollen cunt. It glided easily into my lubricated hole and Kirsten helped to tie the ribbon straps around my waist and thighs. I gasped with every small movement as I struggled into my brown lace-up corset and mermaid-tight skirt. The straps dragged the leather triangle across my ultra-sensitive clit and the dildo twisted inside my tortured tunnel each time I moved, until the tightness of the fully-fastened constricting skirt brought some welcome relief.

Kirsten held my hand to stop me from falling as we waited for Linda's announcement. On cue, Abigail, Maria & Stevie rushed in and the four girls picked me up and carried me on stage. We were all wearing outfits from the most risqué pinnacle of the new Pleasure In Control range and the audience gave us a standing ovation.

Abigail supported one of my shoulders. She was wearing a shiny patent leather corset with wide, prominent bright red lacing criss-crossing the front, with a matching ultra-short tight leather skirt. The top of the corset was cut wide over her chest and then dived up and back around her neck in a supporting halter. The effect was to lift her rounded heavy breasts, thrusting them together and forwards forming a deep, alluring cleavage. The red lacing was pulled tight, narrowing Abigail's waist and exaggerating the curves of her soft, voluptuous body. I put my arm around her and savoured the feel of the smooth, glossy leather that squeaked as it rubbed against my clothes.

Kirsten held my other shoulder. She was wearing a fantastic mid-grey latex outfit of corset top with several contrasting buckled straps across the front. The bottom edge splayed into wide suspender straps that supported matching grey latex stockings that encased her legs and left a little pale soft flesh exposed at the top. Deep matching panties concealed her belly and pussy and her arms were encased from wrist to shoulder in laced latex sheaths, like long gloves without hands. Her small breasts rose from the sculpted under-wired cups and I managed a quick peck as she leaned over me to support the weight of my head.

Maria slipped her arm under my waist, surprising me with her strength. She looked brilliant in matching black leather high-leg panties and a tight corset top with under-slung quarter-cups that lifted and parted her firm breasts, thrusting her bare mounds and exposed nipples outwards and forwards. Wide side straps terminated at an equally wide choker around her slender neck. I rested a free hand on her curvaceous hip and surreptitiously slid it down to rest on the leather-clad bum cheek.

Stevie took hold of my legs, sweeping me off my feet. She had her back to me and seemed to be wearing an all-in-one latex cat-suit not unlike the one I'd sweated in earlier, only black. I was puzzled why the same outfit should be included in the finale, and why it attracted whoops of delight and loud applause as she led the way onto the dais. But as Stevie carefully lowered me and my compatriots helped me onto my feet I could see why.

Stevie turned to face me and I immediately saw that the whole of the front of her body, from her neck right down her chest, her boobs, tummy and her entire smooth-shaven pubic region were bare and exposed, except for a criss-cross pattern of impossibly narrow lacing. This pulled together the remainder of the latex suit that in reality only covered her arms and legs and the sides of her torso, her back and her bum.

Kirsten and Abigail held my arms so I could keep my balance on my high spike heels as Stevie and Maria paraded their outfits in front of a rapturous audience. Then they took their places either side of me so Abigail and Kirsten could receive a similarly tumultuous reception. Then, right on cue, Stevie & Maria unzipped my skirt and the five of us all paced hand in hand up and down the length of the catwalk.

My beautifully decorated corset was very laced tight around my body and I had to take shallow breaths. To help me to breathe, I pressed my shoulders back and pushed my chest forwards. My boobs rose and inadvertently caused my decorated nipples to escape over the top edge of the brown leather that sought to restrain and conceal them. As I walked, they rubbed on the leather and the sensation made them erect and sensitive.

But lower down my pussy too was vying for my attention. Balanced precariously on my high heels, I forced myself to place one foot deliberately in front of the other and with each movement my strap-in dildo stimulated every fold, every corner and every nerve-ending of my hot, full and pulsating pussy.

I began to lose control and my surroundings became but a muffled distant blur. I focussed on the leather triangle that grazed over my protruding, eager clitoris and the twisting, probing sensations of the intrusive dildo held securely in my vagina.

I began to walk faster. The feelings intensified and I perfected a steady swaying rhythm that stimulated both my pussy and my nipples and I closed my eyes as my crescendo approached, and arrived.

I bit my bottom lip as I came, desperate to conceal my climax from the watching throng. But here, sitting close to me, were Passionella's most valued, most sexually active and most experienced clients and I surmised that they knew a woman in the throes of orgasm when they saw one. This only heightened the intensity and I could hardly stand up let alone walk. The volume of the applause increased and the girls either side tightened their grip to steady me as a flood of pleasure washed through me. I gasped quietly, my thigh muscles spasmed rhythmically and my knees went weak. I felt myself shake uncontrollably, my face flushed red and I breathed out a long satisfied sigh as a warm rush of pleasure and satisfaction flowed through me like a river tumbling agitatedly over rocks, then coursing more easily through a broader valley and finally reaching the wide, calm ocean.

I regained my composure just in time to take a breathless final bow, barely managing to keep my swollen breasts from completely spilling out of the top of my corset. The five of us left the stage and hugged and kissed each other as the adrenaline subsided and we heard Linda make her closing remarks, thanking everyone who had been involved and encouraging her clients to stay behind to try on the new products or to make private appointments for a future date. Kirsten asked me if I was OK and mopped the perspiration from my brow, then sank a long, slow passionate kiss full on my mouth.

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After showering and changing into something altogether more comfortable (a soft unstructured silk bra and loose-fitting French knickers under my Passionella corporate suit) I joined the animated throng in the reception area. Someone passed me a long cold cocktail which I swallowed without taking a breath and I mingled with the small discussion groups. Some clients were discussing the merits of the growing migrant work-force in Britain whilst others competed for accolades for the charity work they do. Several clients, some whom I recognised and some I did not, congratulated me on my stage show, often accompanied by a sexy wink or a knowing upturned corner of the mouth. The atmosphere was lively but I was feeling tired and drained. Small groups of Dems and clients disappeared into the various private rooms (at least 2, up to a maximum of 6 - house rules) for personal 'viewings' and as the numbers thinned I toyed with the idea of slipping away unnoticed and taking a cab home. My mind was fuzzy from the alcohol, the physical and mental exertion and the late hour and I sat quietly in an inconspicuous corner to reflect on the evening.

I dozed off for what was only a few minutes but snapped back to reality when a hand grabbed my upper arm. My 'power-nap' had cleared my head and I stood up quickly, wide-awake and attentive.

The hand belonged to Linda.

"Julia, come with me will you," she insisted, "we need you to explain some of the special features in the new Black room." I hurried behind as Linda led the way down the short corridor.

As we entered the room, Linda generously explained to the surprisingly large number of women who had congregated there that I had been instrumental in designing and executing the entire project. One young and very attractive client asked if I took private commissions as she wanted a play-room in her own home for herself and her frequent parties of invited house-guests. I promised to think over her suggestion and Linda murmured approval before thanking me publicly for my contribution to Passionella HQ's facilities then planting a long, slow and very sensual kiss full on my mouth. He tongue probed deeply under mine in the short time our lips were clamped hard together as I experienced the odd sensation of being publicly and passionately snogged by my boss.

Enthusiastically I described to the assembled group the numerous supports, restraints, machines and accessories in the room. The experience was quite strange, as though I was selling fitted kitchens or office equipment. Except instead of eye-level appliances and portable blenders I was presenting wall-mounted body restraints and hand-held sex toys. Instead of photo-copiers and binders I was demonstrating fuck-machines and blind-folds.

Almost unnoticed, two women in their thirties paired off and tried the sling-swing suspended from a ring on the ceiling. As I was talking I glanced across and saw that the smaller of the two, a dark-haired woman, had her ankles cuffed high in the air and her blonde partner had her head buried between her thighs. I could hear moans and moist lapping noises above the background music.

The young party-hostess asked if she could try the exercise-bike-cum-horse-saddle. I invited her to select a dildo from the rack beneath; she chose an exceptionally large ebony pole, with numerous protrusions along its length. I showed Linda how to fix it to the central rod and how to control the speed and movement. Linda smeared some clear lube over the upward-pointing tool and Party-Girl climbed on, cocking her leg and showing an almost non-existent sheer white thong that barely covered her pussy beneath her very short pleated skirt. I helped one of her friends to attach the wrist and ankle straps and Linda pressed a button.

Amid cheers and applause from the small, privileged audience, the dildo rose slowly and Party-Girl cheekily lifted herself up on the stirrups so it could not quite touch her mound. As the dildo retracted, she sank back onto the saddle, exhaled and awaited its next up-stroke. But this time the stirrups had dropped a little under her weight as they were designed to do and, even though she straightened her arms and legs fully, Party-Girl could not stop the tool from just making contact with her thong-sheathed pussy before it retracted. She smiled and, with a flourish, she unzipped and discarded her skirt and pulled her top off over her head to reveal high, firm and bra-less breasts.

With its next up-stroke she let out a little cry as the phallus pressed hard against her tiny triangle of damp fabric and forced the white material between her lips just a little. The stirrups fell further under her weight and the expression on her face changed to one of uncertain anticipation.

She met the dildo as it rose again and, as it made contact with her crotch, she wriggled her hips allowing her thong to be pushed aside by the advancing, frighteningly-large object. Its tip parted her labia and probed inside a fraction before retracting.

Party-Girl relaxed for a moment and Linda asked her if she was OK. She nodded, grasped the hand-holds tighter and bit her bottom lip. Once more the animated piece of explicitly-shaped ebony rose between her thighs and she let out an anxious cry when its tip probed further into her entrance.

Accepting the inevitable, she bent her knees and sank down.

The tool pushed upwards and her widely-parted labial lips engulfed it as the huge phallus plunged into her vagina. I feared that she would be unable to accommodate its enormous size but Party-Girl took a deep breath and about half of its considerable length disappeared from view. She shuddered and exhaled as it withdrew, only to push upwards once more, then again and again. She had no choice but to accept the inevitable invasions of her mechanical intruder as it plunged deeper and deeper inside her with every stroke.

"Faster, faster" she called to Linda, who turned the speed-control knob some more. Even the two 'thirty-somethings' had abandoned their swing to watch.

The stirrups were at their lowest position now and, to take her weight off the saddle and prevent the massive tool from mercilessly impaling her torso, Party-Girl had to stand with her legs so straight that the muscles bulged on her calves and thighs. Her breathing was short and shallow and her eyes were closed now. Her enticing breasts rose and fell with her laboured breathing, her nipples jutted forward and beads of perspiration broke out all over her upper body

Linda pressed the "vibrate" button and almost immediately the room filled with a long, low animal scream as the dildo once more plunged deep into her wet and widely-spread hole. Party-Girl bucked and thrust her pelvis as she rode out her climax and Linda remembered to hit the off-button as her orgasm ebbed away so she could sink down onto the seat and relax without being impaled.

We released her restraints and she climbed off, hooking a finger inside her wet thong to re-cover her recuperating pussy and wrapping her short skirt around her thighs. Still a little shaky, she managed a smile and quipped, "Yes, I'll take it". Her friends tittered politely as he pulled her top over her damp breasts and swallowed a long cold beer.

Linda and I then demonstrated the remaining appliances and features to an ever-growing appreciative group. Linda seemed particularly to enjoy demonstrating the various restraint systems. From her expression, her breathing and her flushed complexion I could tell she was completely involved and she shocked me with her frank and explicit descriptions of acts of submission and sexual domination.

As I looked around, the room seemed now to be full of gorgeous women of all ages, some alone and some in groups of two, three or more. Some were still fully clothed and one or two were totally naked although most were dressed in various sensual and evocative lingerie and outfits from the new Pleasure In Control range. Several of the Dems were there, experimenting with the new equipment and exploring its possibilities with, on, for and in their most favoured clients.

There were two women strapped to appliances on the wall, one whose arms were stretched impossibly high, anchored to the ceiling and one who I realised was Helen was tied spread-eagled to rings set into the floor. A very tall and very attractive middle-aged woman was running her toes all over Helen's bare breasts then down to her pussy whilst she steadied herself with one hand and used the other to fuck herself with the very high heel of a black leather ankle-boot.

Stevie was dressed in a head-to-toe leather cat-suit and was using here recently-acquired first-hand knowledge to put a 'Chair Of Four Pleasures' through its repertoire for the benefit of a large woman in her fifties. Her over-developed was squeezed into a latex corset outfit identical to the one Kirsten had modelled earlier that evening but several sizes larger. Its wearer had dispensed with the panties and was being speared by a long polished stainless-steel dildo that pummelled her big hairy pussy with relentless rapid strokes of the machine's powerful fuck-mechanism.

The couple of thirty-somethings had retuned to the ceiling swing and were putting it to uses I'd never envisaged. The blonde woman was naked and lying face-down in the slings, suspended less than a foot above the floor with her wrists and ankles lashed above her arched back. Lying on the floor just beneath her captive friend, the black-haired woman was wearing a very tight leather dress to match her hair colour. Although both her hands were free she seemed to be making no attempt whatsoever to physically stimulate herself. But she was obviously in a very heightened state of arousal as she constantly licked, sucked, bit and pulled on her friend's hugely-erect nipples that pointed downwards in pink fiery stubs immediately above her face. Their owner was begging to be brought to orgasm but her suckling partner just kept her hanging, literally, as she constantly - relentlessly - noisily - administered to her long, hard nipples and caused a steady trickle of juice to drip from her swollen pussy onto her leather clothes beneath. Occasionally she would collect some of the accumulated pussy-lube with her fingers and smear it over the other woman's swaying breasts, only then to lick it off in long wet strokes of her tongue.

Across the room, Linda was watching as Maria spoke animatedly in Spanish to a client whilst simultaneously strapping her to the large wooden X-shape on the wall. I could only imagine what she was saying, but Linda was holding a box containing an assortment of nipple clamps and chains which gave me a clue.

I left Linda to continue her enthusiastic presentation of the new facility and wandered back to the reception area where the helium-filled balloons still swayed on their silk ribbons. Many of the other clients had left, satisfied (in more ways than one, I expect) with the evening's entertainments. The more energetic and adventurous would still be in the other private rooms, exploring the intricacies of the Pleasure In Control range and their favourite Dems in equal measure. I chatted at some length with Diane who was pleased to hear how well Black had been received but was eventually interrupted by a hand on my shoulder.

It was Linda. I turned around and our eyes met.

"Thanks" was all she said, then she joined the few remaining clients and the depleted posse of loyal Dems who felt the call of duty was stronger than the call of a warm, soft bed in which to sleep off the rigours of, in everyone's opinion, the best Passionella product launch ever. During the course of the after-show party, every Dem would have come several times herself as well as having coaxed and fucked each of her most favoured clients to one or more climaxes of their own. All part of the service, and they would have been handsomely rewarded both by their (my) employer and directly or indirectly by their clients, either financially or by some payment in kind.

Emma and Charlotte were extremely pleased with the response, having booked record pre-orders for new products in addition to numerous appointments for private demonstrations within the retail outlets. They also seemed very pleased with themselves and each other, only confirming my suspicions that they were much more than just colleagues, and more than just good friends. The way they looked at each other as they talked told me there was a deep intimacy under the business-like exterior. I also knew there were two very different but equally attractive bodies under their designer clothing so I was not surprised that they were attracted to each other. Neither was I overly surprised when they locked together in a long passionate open-mouth-tongues-entwined kiss right in front of us. Jealous, me?

Kirsten put her arm around me and planted a warm, discrete kiss on my cheek, congratulating me on everything, and nothing in particular. As she walked to the door she asked if I was OK for transport home, then almost as an afterthought, mentioned that Linda had passed her a message; she wanted me to meet her in Black Private Room in 10 minutes. I hadn't even noticed she had gone and I pondered on what form our meeting might take.