Pleasure in Control Ch. 12
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This is part of a full-length novel that runs to 17 Chapters – you’ll enjoy this much more if you read the earlier chapters first.
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I had nothing planned for the weekend, but I had new toys to play with. I spent Friday evening alone, catching up on some domestic affairs, e-mail correspondence and my personal finances. Since starting at Passionella I’d had no money worries and I had become increasingly altruistic, giving to several charities and anonymously helping out old friends who were struggling to make ends meet. I’d been trying to masturbate less often, as I was finding that quantity is no substitute for quality. I had been masturbating at least once every day and the shine was wearing off, although my recently-purchased but as yet untried vibrators promised renewed interest. Also, I never knew when I might need to able to ‘perform’ in a Passionella store changing room in order to maintain credibility as a platinum-card-carrying prized Passionella client eager to try every product and service on offer. I treated myself to an early night and I slept in ’til Saturday lunchtime.
I woke feeling horny, having resisted the temptation to pleasure myself for a whole week despite some highly arousing encounters including poolside posing with the exquisitely sexy Danielle and watching Linda frig herself in her office, one of the most erotically-charged situations in which I’d ever found myself. Knowing that self-denial can be more enjoyable than quick & easy satisfaction, I suppressed my arousal and busied myself over a very late breakfast, planning to try out my new ‘soft-feel’ blue vibrator later in the day.
The late spring weather was fine and dry so I decided upon a drive in the country, to put my other new toy, my sports car, through its paces. I thought I might drop by a friend or just catch up on some sightseeing.
I showered and dressed for the occasion and weather in a very short skirt, a sleeveless top, skimpy silk bra and thong-back panties, strappy high-heeled sandals and little else. I headed west out of London and soon found some quiet back-roads in Berkshire where I could enjoy the acceleration and handling of my transport of delight.
I’d never owned a car with leather seats before and I found the soft feel of the quality hide to be very comfortable, if a little slippery until the heat from my body warmed up the seat. As I swooped around tight corners, accelerated and braked I found myself enjoying the feel of the leather under my thighs. The hem of my skirt gradually rode up and my bare bum made contact with the seat, considerably increasing the pleasant sensations. This, combined with the adrenaline rush I got from the fantastic driving experience gave me such a thrill that I risked losing concentration. I wriggled the fabric of my skirt out from under me so the whole of my bum cheeks pressed against the leather and I started to understand why some people find leather to be such a turn-on. In fact, I was becoming quite aroused and had to slow down and concentrate hard on my driving.
I pulled into a small car-park in the centre of Windsor to find somewhere for lunch and had to pull down my skirt to avoid making an exhibition of myself. As it was, my slightly-erect nipples poked through my soft-cup bra and made small peaks in the front of my slinky top and I bared long expanses of smooth, muscular legs as I stepped out of my low car, attracting some admiring glances. I’d probably given a small group seated outside a bar on the opposite side of the road a flash of my panties, but I didn’t care. I slung my bag over my shoulder and I felt like I was on top of the world as I strutted confidently along the riverbank, pretending not to notice the attention I received from both male and female passers-by.
I sat down at a prominent table outside a small restaurant and ordered a long cold drink. This did nothing to cool my passions and I began to feel very, very horny. My nipples tingled and my pussy had made my underwear uncomfortably damp. From where I sat I could watch some very attractive and well-dressed men and women walk by; I particularly enjoy following the predominantly (but not exclusively) male pastime know as ‘Is she or isn’t she’ – wearing a bra, that is. Much easier in the warm weather, of course, and more often than not my conclusion was ‘no’. I felt so very randy, a feeling accentuated by my voluntary abstinence, that I was beginning to think this was not such a good idea after all. I finished my main course and decided I’d have to do something about my elevated state of arousal. I could lock myself in the ladies room and rub myself off. I could drive to a quiet spot in the country and perhaps lie back in a field and take more time to pleasure myself, or …
I reached in my bag and was delighted to find that I still had it with me, unopened and untried. I’d simply forgotten to unpack it when I got home from my last trip to York. I ordered a large dessert and strolled to the ladies room, trying to look nonchalant and to conceal my excitement Sincan Escort and impatience,
Locking the door, I ripped my ‘Butterfly’ discreet vibrator from its packing and inserted the batteries into the variable-speed power pack. I pulled my damp silk panties down to my knees and slipped the main part of the toy between my legs, ensuring that the central ‘body’ sat deep between my pussy lips, just like in the picture. The ‘wings’ spread out over my labia and I tied the ribbons around the tops on my thighs and my waist as instructed. I pulled up my thong panties, which only just concealed my new accessory, and pulled down my skirt. Now I didn’t dare to bend down, as unfortunately the manufacturer’s idea of ‘flesh-colour’ did not match mine. I concealed the power pack as best I could and reached for the On switch.
A pulse of raw sexual stimulation rushed through my nervous system as the tiny vibrating body buzzed against my clit. I felt weak at the knees and had to switch it off at once.
Setting the speed lower did not help much, and on a higher speed I feared it might be overheard. Still, I was up for the challenge so I took my seat outside just as my gateau arrived. I pressed the switch and tried hard to concentrate on eating. Wave after wave of arousing, tingling vibrations filled my pussy and travelled up to my responsive nipples. I felt an orgasm start to build so I turned it off, taking a deep breath and suppressing the feelings as much as possible.
I wasn’t going to rush this. I recognised the potential for some highly erotic experiences.
I called over the waiter and clicked the On switch just as he arrived at my table. My hands were shaking and my voice wavered as I thanked him and paid the bill. He asked if I was feeling unwell and offered me a glass of water but I told him I felt OK and left.
OK? I felt fantastic! I tried to walk along the riverside towpath but the sensations were so strong I had to stop every 20 yards or so to let the feelings subside. When I arrived back at the town centre, I sought out a doorway where I was not in anyone’s way but where I knew I could be seen by the affluent Saturday afternoon shoppers. I took out a small map and pretended to me finding my way, and turned up the speed.
I had to hold onto the doorway with one hand and lock my knees to prevent myself from falling.
I needed to know that people were looking at me and I tried to keep my eyes open but found it impossible. I desperately wanted to squeeze my legs together and to cry out. Beads of perspiration trickled down my face, my neck and my back and I bit my bottom lip as a long-pent-up climax broke fee and raced through my aching, tormented body. I shuddered but tried to stand still on weak legs. My breathing was very shallow and fast and my pussy pulsed and throbbed as the feelings washed over me, and eventually subsided.
I flicked off the switch. When I opened my eyes, I saw a young woman standing next to me. “Are you ill?” she enquired. I collected my senses and thanked her for asking. She explained that she was a nurse and thought I might be having an epileptic fit. I pretended that I suffered from migraines but would be fine soon.
During that afternoon, I teased myself to another 3 orgasms. One sitting outside a town-centre café, one whilst walking through a shopping crowded arcade and one sitting cross-legged on a high bar-stool with my skirt having ridden very high up my legs. If anything, the more public the location, the more exciting I found the experience even if successive orgasms were slightly less powerful. In the bar I was fairly sure that the very sophisticated, smartly-dressed woman sitting across the room knew exactly what I was doing, or was having done to me. When my short-but-sweet orgasm had passed she caught my eye, smiled and winked knowingly.
As one last treat, I switched my pleasure-provider onto maximum whilst waiting at traffic lights on my way home. The guy behind tooted me when the lights changed to green at the exact moment I climaxed for a fifth time, the extra rush of adrenaline adding to the pleasure.
When I finally got home I removed my new-found fun-giver and carefully rubbed some cold, soothing lotion into my pussy and the tops of my legs where the device and its ribbons had begun to cut into me. I made two promises to myself before falling into a deep, satisfied sleep. To find new and ever more daring places in which to bring myself off, and to buy some leather clothes.
I’d set myself a busy schedule for the following week, spending time in London as well as the provinces, and meeting the company’s contracted photographer for the first time. As Linda had promised during my early days at Passionella, I had been invited to model some products for a new catalogue to be made available to clients in the stores and electronically. I was surprised (I don’t know why) to find that the studio photographer that Etlik Escort Charlotte regularly used was a woman. I met her on the Monday evening for a preliminary meeting so she could explain what I would be expected to do at the shoot. Diane was about 40 years old and very energetic and enthusiastic about her work. Not unattractive herself, she was quite short with a rounded, mature figure. She looked vaguely familiar, as though I had seen her somewhere before.
She put me totally at ease, complimenting the way I dressed, stood, walked and smiled. I made an appointment for the Wednesday of the following week; 8:00 am with the hairstylist, 9:30 with the manicurist, 10:00 in makeup, 12:30 test shots, lunch, stylists and dressers, etc, etc, etc, until we actually start shooting at 2:30! I was told to expect to be at the studio until at least 10:00 p.m. – it was going to be a long day with a lot of hanging around. I’d take loads of magazines and my laptop computer to pass the time.
Monday evening I sat down and thoroughly re-read Linda’s letter:
Passionella has grown quickly to become one of the most respected and highly profitable lingerie brands in Britain. We are recognised as a leader not a follower, giving women of taste and sophistication exactly what they want, to please themselves and their closest friends and partners.
However, the world of fashion changes fast and this applies to lingerie as much as to day and eveningwear. I have given a great deal of thought to the forward direction of the company, its brand and its products, with much valued help from colleagues and loyal clients. I then reinforced my thinking during an exciting and enjoyable week spent out on the sales floors.
To avoid any possibility of our company being left behind, I am planning a major repositioning of Passionella UK. I will focus on only 3 important market sectors, as I believe it is wrong for us to try to cater for every possible customer desire in a complex wide-ranging marketplace. Our offering has become confused and we risk losing our identity.
Therefore, I plan just 3 product line offerings. This will result in some popular Passionella lines being withdrawn from sale in the UK and we must expect some adverse reaction from clients but we must overcome these by promoting the new image and offering to win over our customers’ hearts and minds.
1) A limited line of ‘everyday basics’, similar to the high-street chain-store offerings, but characterised by Passionella traditions of highest quality of fabrics and manufacture, restrained, simple but distinctive styling and the latest fashion colours. Products will be limited to bras, panties in only 2 or 3 cuts, and camisoles.
2) Luxury, exotic garments for which the word lingerie is inappropriate. These products will sacrifice comfort and practicality for overt sexual provocation, high degrees of body shaping and support, groundbreaking designs, colours, textures & detailing together with unrivalled Italian artistic flair. Product lines will include ‘extreme’ bras, sexy panties, corsets, bustières, basques and suspenders.
3) A new departure into what I can best describe as ‘high-fashion-fetish’. Many of you will have noticed the increasing availability of underwear aimed at the woman who likes to take charge in the bedroom. Unfortunately, much of this is cheaply-made and overpriced. But many of our clients require the utmost discretion and expect the ultimate in quality and personal service that they receive at a Passionella outlet; they are unwilling to shop in seedy high-street and side-street shops. I intend to fulfil all their expectations with a range to be called ‘Pleasure In Control’. The imagery is pure sexual assertion portrayed through the use of unconventional materials including polyurethane and soft supple leather fashioned into extreme designs incorporating, for example, restraints and points of attachment.
Some of your clients’ favourite styles will disappear from the rails but will be replaced with some of the most desirable products available anywhere. You will all be fully trained and will be generously rewarded for successfully introducing the new lines over a managed period of time. Your supervisors will be in contact with you shortly; I know I can rely on your support.
Brilliant! And Linda had either judged the mood just as I had or had paid close attention to my field reports. I couldn’t wait to see and try some of this new stuff.
“You’re looking pretty hot, Julia,” Linda observed correctly (I was unsure what meaning she attached to the word ‘hot’), continuing: “Come and get a drink”.
I’d arrived a few minutes early at the restaurant but Linda was there waiting for me. She was looking smart but relaxed in a tight white top, obviously with no bra underneath, and black jeans. I’d been looking forward to this evening immensely but could Çankaya Escort only guess how it might unfold. The weather was beautiful: hot, dry and sunny all day and just slightly cooler in the evening. I’d tried to catch the mood and dressed in a newly-acquired tight leather dress that reached halfway down my thighs and had elbow-length sleeves and a full-length front zipper that could be unzipped from both ends. This allowed me to split the front as high as I needed to in order to walk and as low as I cared or dared, to show a cleavage. Linda was right – it was hot inside, and I looked hot.
We discussed Linda’s letter and we agreed on virtually everything. I suggested some minor changes to the wording then Linda showed me preliminary design sketches from the studios in Italy. They looked terrific but I sensed her mind was distracted by other priorities. She pushed her food around her plate and paid the bill without even asking if I wanted dessert.
“Do you mind if we continue our meeting in my office, where we can talk more privately” she asked, putting her hand on my arm.
This was becoming more exciting as I anticipated something more physical than just conversation. “Sure” I replied.
We walked briskly back to PROM, my leather dress flapping sensually around my bare legs.
The building was I darkness. Linda locked the front door behind us, but instead of taking the main staircase, she led me straight into Gold Private Room. My heart missed a beat and I presumed that the serious business meeting was now over.
“No problem this evening, we are totally alone.” she reassured me, pouring me a long soft drink. “We can relax.”
‘Relax!’ I thought. How could I relax when I’m in one of these rooms that holds so many connotations, and I’m with an attractive woman who, last time we were alone together in this building, frigged herself off in front of me in such a highly arousing and exhibitionistic way, … if that’s a real word.
“Sit down,” Linda insisted, “let me explain:
“Over the last few weeks since our time together in Regent Street, I’ve had to deal with a deep-seated and complex emotional web of shame, guilt, self-doubt, revulsion, bitterness, loneliness and frustration.
“I’ve pondered long over whether I really did want to be ‘cured’ and whether my life might lose it’s purpose if I overcame the single strongest motivator that has enabled me to construct the Passionella UK empire.”
I was transfixed.
“Julia,” she continued, in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t have even started to make sense of it all if it wasn’t for you. You’ve loosened my chains but I haven’t shaken off all of them. It took over a week, and enormous willpower, to even bring myself to touch my pussy with my hands again. I lay in bed, in the bath, on the floor and even in the park trying to overcome years of ‘aversion therapy’. Finally, whilst thinking about you and possibly being able to meet you again in private and reliving our changing room experience, I did it. I put my fingers on my pussy. Oh, Julia, it felt so good after 16 years. I teased it open and I rubbed my button. Earlier last week, I actually masturbated for the first time for years. That’s when I asked you to call me. Last Thursday evening was the second time – I wanted to show you I could do it. And that was the first time I’d pushed a finger inside me since school.”
I sat and listened attentively, the sense of responsibility weighed heavily on me.
“But now I need some special help” she declared, standing up. “Julia, the final hurdle is to allow someone else to arouse me and to make me come; it won’t be easy. Will you try?”
Shit. I thought hard. How could I refuse? I realised that I may not even be allowed to touch her, as she had not even mentioned relaxing the LDT rule. I thought about my brainstorming session with Kirsten and Emma and the dildoes plan. I ran through my ‘training’ with Kirsten in her apartment, then answered her as unequivocally as I could.
“Yes, of course I will,” I replied confidently, then taking a deep breath and adding: “but you’ll have to do it my way.”
Linda looked apprehensive and stayed silent for a moment. “Depends what way that is,” she responded. “What do you propose?”
“You don’t get a choice,” I replied. “Take me as I come.”
Subconscious Freudian choice of words?
I gambled that Linda would accede to me adopting a dominant position, forcing her into a submissive role in order to distance her from her ‘day job’.
She looked at me for a moment and I saw the expression on her face change from pensive to excited. Then she frowned. “What should I do, Julia. What are my instructions?”
Linda had subjugated herself to me and a rush of sexual energy hit my pussy. I became aroused by the idea of being in charge and it took me by surprise, awakening a latent desire in me. I provocatively pulled the zipper of my dress down nearly to my navel, exposing my rounded breasts rising out of their padded half-cup bra. I pulled back my shoulders to exaggerate the effect as I warmed to me new role.
“You must tell me what you would like me do to you.” I demanded. “And you must be frank and explicit in your requests or I shall not even consider them. But only I will choose whether to carry out your requests and you must not question my decisions.”
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