N.U.D.E. Ch. 03bybigrimmstales©
Intro: In part one, Miss Helene Jean Ponsonby, managing director and owner of her family company saw a sign to a mysterious organisation situated next to her offices. She went in to find out what they did, was mistaken for a client, and ended up exposing herself to the receptionist who reciprocated in a mutual masturbation session. She left, not finding out what their company name, N.U.D.E. Ltd stood for. In part 2, she returned the next day still curious about their name and was subjected to an unconventional examination of her sexual interests and desires. This was against the backdrop of fighting off a boardroom coup. However, as her journey of sexual liberation and discovery is occurring, so is her capacity to fight back; again in unconventional ways. In part 3 we join her at the end of the second day recounting the events of her journey home from the office...
My visit to the sex shop on the way home had been an education in itself. Dominic suggested it, based on his analysis of my sexual needs. His specialism it transpired was through the use of brain wave patterns and skin response data to identify scientifically a man or woman's deepest and most hidden sexual desires. His meters were not standard fare either. In fact he had patented some modifications and additions that no one else had even considered possible. N.U.D.E. Ltd. was both his experimental laboratory and a therapy service. I was guinea pig and willing patient.
'No guinea pig has ever had it so good,' I thought, chuckling to myself.
"Yes, can I help you beautiful?"
He was just as I imagined sex shop owners to be (so apologies to any owners who read this who are not). He was short, fat, greasy and leering down my blouse like I had no head on my body. I let him. I knew I was beautiful now and so he could look. I'd left my bra off after my appointment at N.U.D.E., opened the buttons as far as I dared, so he could stare as much as he liked at my human pendulums. Hell, I loved the freedom; just like the men in the office had when I got back to work. They'd never seen their Director look so refreshed and confident. Or my tits look so much like they wanted out of that prissy white blouse.
Mind you, it was my PA, Yvette who got the most enjoyment that afternoon. I'd sensed something about her that morning; something that said behind the conservative dressing was a desirable, desperate woman. So, I'd already made it my mission to free her thinking and her clothing, if I had my chance, and I did; but more of that later. Let's go back to 'Slime Ball, the sex shop owner'. Could that be a title to a film? I chuckled again to myself.
"Darling man," I said, oozing sexual promise by lowering my voice, "can you take your eyes off my titties now and point me to the best vibrators, strap-ons, full masks and whips you have in the place?"
Wow! I felt powerful. Dominic had said I would. He had identified my dominant nature and it was having an effect. The Slime was stammering and slobbering away as he escorted me like Uriah Heep to the things I wanted. He was such fun to play with. The bulge in his obviously stained trousers suggested a rather aroused snake and not a little one either. Shame the rest of him was so repulsive. However, it did not stop me surreptitiously undoing another button on my blouse so that my large nipples were offered to his unstinting gaze. God what a sense of power! To think, I'd been hiding them for years. How plain stupid, I thought.
I also thought this man should be blasé about showing me his array of vibes, but his hands were shaking. However, he did know his stuff. He picked out three or four of each size, some I recognised as the Rabbit© design, and others that were exotic in the extreme.
"Here," he offered, "try this against your hand. It's manufactured from a very soft latex and made in Germany. Not the cheapest but all my female clients think it is better than the rabbit."
It was red and called 'Smartvibe G2' from Fun Factory ©.
"We call it the Red Gigolo," he added. "If you turn the dial on the base, which is angled so that you can see it more easily, you can change the level of sensation from soft to hard. Not the longest, but they say it is very sensual."
I put it in my palm and turned the strangely shaped dial. He was right, the design was clever. The tip was not like a cock, more an ovoid shape, but clearly designed so that when pushed against the cunt its tip would touch the clitty and the rest part the pussy lips. If inserted, my guess was that strange end would curve up and vibrate against the g-spot. My nipples hardened as I thought of the pleasure it could give. I couldn't resist. I turned it to full and pressed the tip to my right tit, letting him see the pleasure my breast was displaying as the vibrations spread out. I moaned, unable and unwilling to hide my delight. I just knew that was a wonderful toy!
"Yes, this one I will definitely have. But put your fucking eyes back in their sockets," I snapped, though my face showed a smile. I bet he never expected that language from my plummy mouth. His went back to his obsequiousness. I continued giving instructions, "Now, show me that Rabbit and that one with the twin prongs, which I assume are for the cunt and arse at the same time?"
"Y-Yes," he stammered, "Very popular madam."
"Listen, you. I can see you know your stuff but my business sense tells me you are not getting the best out of this shop. Want some advice?" I asked as I handled each new toy and nodded approval, adding them to the wire basket he was carrying for me. I carried on, not giving him time to answer, "I have a junior marketing assistant whom I bet will have a better idea of what this needs than you. I could lend her to you for two weeks and she will come up with recommendations, but you put one paw on her skin and I will rip your obviously large dick from its socket, understand?"
"No, I mean, yes of course," he said, his hand subconsciously covering his cock as he imagined the pain my threat would cause if carried out. "Thank you."
"You lack image. You have some fantastic toys and you know your stuff, but you don't make it attractive to come in here; particularly for women." Oh, well, give him both barrels, he could only tell me to fuck off. I persisted, "You dress shabbily, your hair is greasy and you are overweight. How can I imagine sex when the man selling it to me looks like he went off it years ago? Get yourself smartened up and fit, you'll sell ten times as much, and get the shop tidied up too. It's sleazy. Not many women want to come into a sleazy place. I only came here because it was on my way home. My marketing assistant will help you." My God I was on a roll. The thing was I had never been so honest with someone I hardly knew; with the exception of the people at N.U.D.E. Ltd.
"B-but I can't afford to pay her," he replied, sounding a bit stunned by my barrage of feedback. I loved having him on the back foot, slightly humiliated.
"That's OK. I want her to be freed up a bit. She is one of a number in my Company who need to have their eyes opened, if not their legs." I laughed at my own joke. Or was it a joke? Since my second session at N.U.D.E., I had walked the office reassessing my staff. I noticed the prim ones, the overtly sexual ones (very few), the normal (whatever that really meant), the gay (of both sexes), the anonymous and the unknown. I realised that my father and myself had subconsciously selected a large number of people who could be described as 'inhibited'. Rebecca Thompson-Forbes had come to the Company on the recommendation of my Aunt Alice in the UK. She had a degree from Oxbridge and an MA in marketing, but I realised was languishing in my marketing department, working for Jason Banks but clearly not noticed by him. If she had been I'd have seen a very different worker; wearing less and probably leaving pregnant by now given his capacity to shag his way through the Company. Yes, this assignment was perfect.
For the first time since I'd come in here, he lifted his eyes to mine and said brightly, "Tell you what, you have any of the toys you want for free and I will take her on as marketing consultant."
He did have beautiful, bright blue eyes. There had to be a story behind this man, but now was not the time. "Agreed," I said simply, "Now show me the rest on my list."
I left after another hour with a bag full of toys, one of which was already inside me. Tony, as I got to know him by name, recommended an egg-like gizmo that acted like Chinese ben-wah balls but vibrated and had a remote control that I had placed in my handbag. His eyes had really gone out like stalks when I lifted my tweedy skirt, parted my hairy sex and popped the contraption into me. Then I turned it on. Wow! The second 'wow' of the day. This was so pleasurable, keeping me on the edge of orgasm all the way home.
Well, that was not accurate. I stopped at a number of boutiques on the way, buying some new clothing, including some better and sexier lingerie. I realised Dominic was right. I needed to dress the part and in fact, 'dress to kill' he had suggested. It was the last shop I visited that caught my eye. I'd never noticed before as I would normally have been in my car or in a taxi. The sign in gothic style over the door said, 'Simply Leather'.
The entrance was nothing special, just a vestibule with steep stairs leading up from it to a shop above the dry cleaners. A tiny picture in the window drew me in. It was a leather corset, shown from front and back, with full lacing. I had no idea where I would wear it, but I wanted it.
In the gloom of the downstairs vestibule I reluctantly pulled the vibrating egg out of my cunt. It smelt nice, of aroused woman, of me. I slipped it back into a bag. I was left suddenly feeling empty, literally.
I climbed the stairs, struggling with all my shopping bags. The stairway was dingy, the light almost yellow and casting giant shadows. I hesitated, and then turned the round brass handle at the top. It was locked. I shook it, in case it was stuck. I sighed, ready to traipse all the way back down. No, I would knock. I banged on the door. Nothing. I turned, ready to descend, when I heard the locks being slid back.
"I'm sorry darling," a disconnected voice said from somewhere inside the room. "Aggie was counting money with me so we locked up for safety's sake. Come on in, come on."
I couldn't see anybody. I peered into the room, but all I could see was more of the gloomy light on the stairs. Who was it and who the hell was Aggie?
"Come in!" the voice repeated in an enthusiastic English voice; another of my countrywomen. Ok, I can't see I thought, but there was nothing menacing here. I stepped inside. "Come through to the back of the shop."
I could see a white light framing a doorway. Suddenly I was blinded by that light flooding the room and shielded my eyes as best I could whilst hanging onto my multitude of shopping bags. A shadow of a slim, tall woman dressed from head to foot in something obviously tight, stood in the open door.
"Oh, I'm sorry. What a stupid so-and-so I've been turning the lights off out there. Here, let me carry some of your bags."
What an amazing voice! It was so gravely and deeper than most women, like that famous British Actress whose name would just not come to mind. She had taken hold of some of my purchases. O, the relief. I'd not realised just how burdensome they were until those stairs.
My eyes had adjusted to the gloom that now was bathed in backlight. This woman, whom I assumed must be Aggie, was wearing jet back leather trousers tightly buckled over extremely high heeled boots. They looked amazing, moulding to her body like a second skin. But it was her top that totally entranced me. It was a leather corset, in the finest of leather that cinched in her waist to an almost impossible narrowness. Her breasts, that were not insubstantial, were tightly confined yet spilled onto a clever balconette concealing, though surely only just, her young nipples. I estimated her age as about 19.
I was so transfixed on her that I did not notice the other woman approach.
"Hello, terribly sorry for making you feel ignored. We do like customers you know," she said, in clear and very upper class English accent, laughing heartily and making me forget my initial irritation on the stairs. Besides, Aggie had already left me distracted in the extreme.
"Fine, er, fine, yes perfectly ok," I said, unable to take my eyes off Aggie and her wonderful clothes; and equally wonderful body.
"She seems to have that affect on every woman who comes in here, gay or straight," said the woman, unperturbed by my obvious fascination with the other woman. "I'm Amelia, though most call me Amé; after that herbal drink that everyone says I consume too much of." She laughed again. So confident and giving an impression of being welcoming and kind. I found myself instantly drawn to her: both of them in fact. We shook hands and then she kissed me on both cheeks, lingering slightly longer than normal in a way that made me shiver with pleasure.
"Aggie, put the lights on will you darling. I don't know what you were thinking of turning them out. We're making money at last; don't make us look like some cheap outfitters."
"Sorry Auntie, I don't know what I was thinking about."
"No problem, I'll punish you later," Amé said as if she was just discussing the weather. I had little idea what her type of punishment might be.
"Yes, Auntie," came the resigned reply.
"Isn't she a little old for punishment?" I asked, wanting to defend her niece.
"Darling, no one is too old to be punished if they have the predilection it. I can see by one of your bags that you have been in our local sex shop. He gets many clients from me, especially those into BDSM. My speciality."
I blushed. For all the adventures I had had over the past days I was not prepared for this simple challenge that I had entered a sex shop. Crazy, but all those prudish years were not going to be wiped out in one fell swoop; particularly the prissy thoughts and feelings. Damn it, I had to overcome that past. I knew it, my therapist knew it. I steeled myself for the admission.
"Yes, I bought quite a lot there actually. My therapist insisted I buy toys and whips. No idea what and how I use most of them. I'm a learner though, so still finding my feet."
"Finding your pussy more like," she retorted, laughing as she said it and instantly putting me at ease.
"Oh, yes, never knew I had one before this week," I jibed back, joining in the laughter.
Only Aggie didn't join in, but stood silently, her head lowered slightly. It was clear who was in control here, and what the relationship might be between aunt and niece.
"So how can we help you?"
"I don't know, but I saw the picture of a corset in the window and just knew I wanted one."
"Are you dominant or submissive or a bit of both, you know, a switch?"
"Dominic, my therapist, says I am predominantly someone who needs to control. Potentially I appear to be Domme?" I said, with a slight question mark in my voice as I had little idea what the implications of this were bar my late night 'Black Lace©' education.
"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed in her posh English accent. "That man has taken all the fun out of fucking. Well, not really, it is just in the good old days we found our orientation by trial and error. His method is so bloody accurate he's robbed people of all that embarrassment and angst as they struggled to find their way through the sexual world and in particular the BDSM one. Mind you, I've done well out of him."
"He refers people?" I asked, as Amé began to circle me, assessing my size. I liked her penetrating eyes on me.
"Oh, no, he is too ethical for that. It's just that his clients, who are mainly frustrated, prudish women (well initially at least) start to search for more appropriate clothing to pursue their new sexual freedoms," she explained, in her light chirpy way, stopping a moment and smiling. "Would you mind taking off your clothes? It would be so much easier to measure you accurately."
I unbuttoned my blouse, unquestioningly, noticing she licked her lips as my heavy breasts came fully into view. It was not long before my skirt was pooled around my red shoes and I stepped out of it. I was naked bar my Jimmy Choo extravagance.
...And very aroused.
It was the first chance I had had since the speedy introductions and businesslike directions from Amé to look at my outfitter. She was absolutely striking, with short grey hair framing a perfectly symmetrical face. Her eyes were a deep, deep blue and piercing in their intensity; yet I did not shy away from looking at her. She had a beautiful corset on too. It was a clever mix of leather and lace. Her full breasts were cupped in a fine, jet black lace that extended into a high collar, almost Victorian in its severity, that circled a long, proud neck. How kissable I thought, feeling even more aroused by the idea.
Her wide nipples could be just distinguished behind their dark veil. When she shifted slightly sideways, while taking her numerous measurements, I could see they were stiff, fully aroused and objecting to their enforced confinement. I imagined how beautiful they must be when unfettered; imagining too the most erotic picture of suckling at them. It made me question Dominic's diagnosis, but then maybe I had the wrong understanding of what dominance meant.
She was chatting to me and I was replying, but if anyone asked me what it was about I would have to hold up my hands and say I could not remember. I was far more interested in my appraisal of her. She had such fine bone structure; a combination of clearly defined face, delicate hands and perfectly feminine torso, yet a sense of immense strength too in her musculature. I could imagine, and did, running my hands over her naked flesh and feeling at once protective of her porcelain-like skin, her seemingly fragile bones and yet marvelling in the strong definition of her muscles. I pictured her thighs, currently clad in a leather mini-skirt over fine fishnet (presumably) tights, being strong and surrounding me in a tight embrace; yet so long and definitely female and almost feline in their grace.
She turned away from me and I admired the tight leather over her perfect bottom. Each buttock was encased in soft, shiny skin, with not a bulge or unsightly line in sight. I surmised that she was naked bar the tights, if they were tights, under her skirt. I scanned down to delicate feet that I imagined were caressed by the fine fishnet. For a reason that was becoming less and less inexplicable, I had an urge to kiss and lick those feet; and from there work my way up with tiny movements of my tongue over her entire body. I suddenly connected with Eleanor's 'assault' on me this morning and my pussy turned to liquid. Surprisingly, I felt no shame for my thoughts and desires. Far from it, I was enlivened and hungry to make those wicked needs reality.
"Mmmm, your scent is divine," Amé said, kneeling at my feet with her tape measure tracing my inner thigh. "Open your legs a little more please," she added, her voice a mix of desire and efficiency.
I found myself being a little slut, opening them a little too far and getting lightly admonished by her as she pushed her soft hand against my naked thigh to move the leg back a little. I thrilled at that touch, and even more so as her fingers brushed my hairy pussy lips as she completed her measure of my inside leg.
"My, we are a wet and bushy one!"
"Yes, sorry," I heard myself say. Dominic and his wife had both told me that morning that I would gain from removing such a 'hursuit abundance of pubic hair' as he had called it in his typically medical way. Of course when Dominique said it I knew she was just advising me on the basis of his notes. "Dom -er - my therapist commented this morning that I was very hairy down there." And then I found myself continuing, wanting to tell her what I felt, "but the wetness is caused by you. You are so, so very sexy in that outfit." There, it was out. I had at last said something really complimentary about another person and in an explicit sexual context. It was not like with Eleanor Frazer this morning when I had been strapped to the couch and she had been so frustrating in her hesitation; this was me saying it without any constraints or (as this morning) restraints and so boldly to another woman. My bisexuality was out. What I had not expected was the reply.