New Horizons Ch. 12

Chapter 12 The Challenge

A note to my readers. I tried to write this chapter with more passion but I think that once you read it, you will understand that there was no way to get to the passion any faster without losing your attention. I promise more passion in Chapter 13. Feel free to give me your feelings on what I'm doing. You are the ones I write for. Thanks.

On my way home from the very strenuous 'training' session, I remembered that I had to meet Brandi the following evening and realized that at that point, I had no clue as to how I was going to convince her to give us a second chance. I also had serious concerns about the condition my body was in at that time.

Judging by the information I'd gotten from her file, I knew she was not going to sit still for the kind of persuasion Melissa had used on me, and I had my doubts about using any of the suggested approaches I'd found in the training materials I'd received. It was obvious to me that Heather was right...the best plan of all was no plan at all. Without knowing her at all and never having been at her house, I had no choice but to approach her as promised. We would just talk and perhaps if I did my job right, I could get her the restaurant or one of the other venues in the near future.

I have to admit that the company did not get their money's worth that day. I had a hard time focusing on the material and every chance I got, I tried to think of a way to get Brandi out of her house, but came up empty. I'd seen very intimate pictures of her, but pictures can be deceiving. I knew she was quite tall, that she shaved, and had very tasty looking nipples but the photographer, whoever that was had not been in a very good position for me to tell much more that that.

I hurried home and took a long, hot shower, then dabbed on a few drops of perfume in all the right places. It was as I worked a brush through my hair that I made my first decision. I had laid out a nice, but conservative outfit to wear but that idea was scrapped quickly. Digging through my wardrobe, I selected the dark blue leather micro-mini that made my ass look like the hottest item on the dessert menu. To top it off, I chose a blouse that was like a magnet. Almost transparent, it featured a neckline that was almost to my navel. I'd already put on panties and bra but those were quickly tossed back on the bed. In that blouse, without a bra, my nipples were the main attraction and the cleavage was the first course. I chose a pair of matching heels and when I stepped in front of the mirror, I saw a woman so hot that I almost stayed home and wore out my favorite eight and nine inch companions.

I can't explain it, but I was quite nervous when I left for her house. Under different circumstances, I probably would have assumed that I was just anxious to get her naked but this was different. I had the distinct feeling that I may have met my match; that this could well be the first candidate that I would have to admit I couldn't reach. If that turned out to be the case, I would at least ask, beg if you will, if she would allow someone else to talk to her, that perhaps there was something about me she just didn't like.

When I got to her street, I stopped a couple of blocks away to gather my thoughts and put on a positive face and a smile. It would be important to let her believe I knew what the hell I was doing although I actually had no idea.

She lived in the middle of the block, in a nice ranch style home on a double or triple lot. I white privacy fence seemed to go all around the place with a curved arbor over the walk to the house. Some sort of climbing flower covered the arbor and I could see lots of flowers behind the fence, at least what I could see of it. I grabbed my briefcase and took a deep breath. "Show time," I mumbled.

The doorbell was connected to a Westminster chime, a sound I treasure from my memories of home and my grandma's home in Pennsylvania. I waited for about five minutes and rang the bell again. Thinking I'd been stood up, I turned as to leave only to see a new BMW sports convertible pull into the drive. The door slammed and a few seconds later, she rounded the corner of the house, a guilty grin on her face, and what a face it was. Long dark brown hair lay over her shoulders and down her back. Gray-green eyes on a slightly bronzed face, though darkened by distrust and concern, promised much to anyone she was pleased with and lips that would melt your heart if she smiled in your direction.

"I'm sorry, Samantha. My boss tends to be a bit long winded anyway but today she seemed to be going for a filibuster or something."

I smiled and offered my hand. "No problem," I replied. "I could come back another time if you wish."

"No," she quickly replied. "I might change my mind. I've been fighting with myself all day as it is."

"Brandi, you don't have to do this," I offered, praying that I wasn't giving her an excuse to refuse to talk to me.

"I know," she agreed as she opened the door to motion me inside. "but I promised to help you and I will. I've got some things to talk to you about anyway for my own peace of mind."

We stepped into a large and welcoming living room with walls of a rosy cream color, made even rosier by the deep burgundy drapes highlighting the horizontal blinds that were a cream color as well. The furniture was in a beautiful rose color, rich and warm with walnut wood accents... The carpet was ivory with a subtle hint of burgundy and rose woven into it. It was so beautiful I wanted it in my home.

She led the way into her den, a large room with an impressive natural stone fireplace. The carpet color carried over from the living room, enhancing the mahogany color of the recliners and wing chairs that sat on either side of the coordinating print couch.

"How lovely," I commented. "This is such a comfortable room. Did you decorate it yourself?"

"Thank you," she replied. "Yes, quite some time ago. It was sort of a test to prove to myself that I knew what I was doing before I decided that I wanted to be a home decorator. A lot has happened since then. I guess I'd have to admit that I violated several of the basic rules of decorating in the project but I think that a room has to reflect the resident, not the other way around. It's kind of a statement of who I am I guess, plain vanilla with a splash of deep dark raspberry syrup."

I laughed and felt some of the tenseness go out of the room.

"It's absolutely gorgeous Brandi. I wish I could afford your services."

"When I'm not really busy, I could see if we can work something out, Samantha. We can talk about that later if you wish."

"I'd love it," I replied, knowing exactly how we could work things out if I had my way.

"I'll go start some coffee," she said, walking toward the kitchen. I watched the sway of a firm ass that sat atop beautiful long slender legs. The affect of the sway was heightened by the fullness of her summery beige skirt that was slit at least eight inches. She wore a dark forest green satin blouse that glimmered in the light. I could visualize that glimmer in front of the fireplace as the flickering flames lit her beautiful face.

When she returned I spent more time really seeing how beautiful she was. Maybe it was the change in lighting or maybe I just took the time now to study her. Perhaps it was just that the initial concerns were out of the way, I don't know. I only know that I openly stared as the sheen of the satin blouse moved fluidly with each and every step she took. Under that blouse she wore nothing at all and her nipples moved from side to side tauntingly. I knew all too well the affect of satin on my bare nipples and the thought of what her nipples were saying to her made my own nipples hard and an all too familiar tingle went through my thighs and the core of my body.

"Samantha?" I heard her say.

I grinned, caught in the act of mentally sucking those nipples. My mind had drifted away to another dimension. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid my mind wandered for a moment there."

"So I noticed," she replied, and I wondered if she'd noticed how hard I was staring at her nipples and if she'd noticed that mine were as hard as nails right now under the sheer fabric of the light blouse I'd chosen. "So what is it that you are trying to do again?"

I described the duties of my volunteer position and why I thought it was important that I have her input to further enhance our program. I detailed the opportunities provided by membership and the freedom to be who she really is without stigma or suspicion at one of our resorts that would open very soon.

"Well," she said, "you are right about one thing. You do need to do a better job of preparing your candidates. I can see why the secrecy is important, at least to the members, but the truth is that you are losing potential members by not listening to the ones that refuse to go on."

"That's exactly why I wanted your input. You didn't reply to the form we sent asking for your feelings and opinions so that tells me that we're wasting time and money sending them out."

She flushed for a second, and then I heard exactly what I'd suspected all along. "To tell you the truth, Samantha, I ripped it to shreds and threw it away. It was almost a slap in the face until I had time to think about it. I was still upset and disappointed."

"You say disappointed, Brandi. Should I assume from that comment that you really did want to be a member of Total Woman?"

"I don't know for sure, Samantha, but I was looking for something like that when I was contacted so yes, I guess I could say I was disappointed."

"Ok, then let's build from that then. I studied the photos of your orientation and ..."

"Photos? They took photos? Oh my god. Oh my god. Why???"

I reached out to place my hand on hers. "It's all right, Brandi. No one but the members of the management team have access to those photos and they are used only when there is good reason, such as trying to find out what went wrong in your orientation or if there is ever any question of legality or liability. That's the only reason. Your privacy, member or not is very much respected at all times.

"God, I hope so," she replied, pulling her hand away.

"Any time you want to see them I can show them to you but you have to sign a authorization for me to do so."

"I think I'd like to see them although I have no idea why. Am I being masochistic or something to want to see that? I mean the memories are still very strong and they aren't all good ones as you know."

"There's nothing wrong with you at all, Brandi." I reached into my briefcase to produce the required document, which hadn't even existed until I created it on my computer. "Just sign on the line here and date it."

I slid the form back into my briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope which held the computer generated copies. "These are just digital copies," I advised. "Can we talk about a few of them?"

I picked up the earliest series where she was being stripped and fondled. "From the expression on your face and the body English I read, you weren't stressed or fearful at that point."

"No, not at that point I wasn't. I was still excited about the experience then."

As soon as picked up the next series, showing her being lowered to the bed and restrained, she shuddered and I saw her hands ball up into a knot. "Oh god," she whimpered. "I can still feel those scarves around my wrist and ankles."

I turned the rest of them over and went to kneel beside her. "Brandi, talk to me. There is something that frightens you about those pictures far and away more than it should. Tell me what you are really afraid of."

For a few seconds she sat quietly, eyes closed, head back, breathing deep and slow. "When they put the blindfold over my head, it was all I could do to keep from screaming. No one saw the tears behind the blindfold and I managed to keep my fears hidden but when they began to restrain me, I started to lose it. I was so frightened and afraid I was going to pass out. I fought it off though because the intimacy and sexual gratification was so awesome I thought I might be all right. I wasn't though. I guess I'm somewhat claustrophobic or something but being restrained was more than I could stand."

"I have a feeling you have a good reason for being claustrophobic but it's not important. What is important is that you just identified a horrible problem with our ceremony. We absolutely must find out if our candidates have any phobias that might impact on their orientation. Why didn't you say something before now?"

"It's so embarrassing, Samantha. It takes me back to some dark times in my life that I don't want to revisit."

"Brandi, no matter what happened or when, never ever be afraid to speak out when you are frightened. You don't have to explain or give them any details, just don't live your life in shame or fear when you don't have to."

"But the orientation..."

"The orientation has to be revised in cases like yours, Brandi. I have a feeling that many of our candidates refused for reasons similar to yours. They have been frightened or abused or any number of things and we have to find a way to induct them in without playing on that fear."

She picked up the rest of the photos and started going through them, occasionally wiping away a tear or pausing while a shudder went through her. I had her go slowly, studying each photo, while I asked questions to learn her mind set at that particular moment. She gasped at some of the detail shown in the close-ups but we talked our way through while my body began reacting to the erotically detailed pictures right up to when she screamed and had to be escorted from the room in tears.

"Brandi, I am so very sorry that we put you through that," I stated, and I really meant it.

"They had no way to know, Samantha. I didn't even realize it myself so how would they know?"

She went back to the point that the women between her legs brought out the dildo and began working it into her pussy.

"My god, it's so big, Samantha. I can't believe they put that in me."

"It's not as big as you think, Brandi. I've had bigger although I have to admit that I've been tested a couple of times and wished I hadn't done it once. We aren't all the same though and some women would never be able to handle that but we're pretty careful about that. If you look on that pad next to her you'll see a smaller one just in case the big one appears to be too much."

"I take it you went through the whole ceremony," she said, still looking at the last photo before she lost it.

"Yes, I did," I replied, "and lived to tell about it."

She managed a weak smile at my attempted humor. "I'll be right back," she said, heading for the back of the house. I put the photos back in order but didn't put them back in the folder at that time.

When she returned, she had a box in her hands. "These are the largest I've ever used," she confessed. While rather substantial in size, they were nothing compared to some I've had shoved in me or up my ass.

"If they get the job done, that's all that matters," I offered.

"Samantha, I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time. You've been wonderful to sit here helping me talk this out. I've been wishing I had someone to talk to but I don't have anyone I can trust right now, and it sounds so self pitying."

"No, Brandi, no it doesn't," I replied, putting my hand on her thigh, then quickly taking it back hoping that she didn't notice, "it is a very real and honest fear and it must be terrible to go through it."

She nodded but didn't reply right away. "It's been a long time," she finally said. "I keep hoping it will go away but it doesn't."

"It's like a deep scar, Brandi. It's possible it will never completely go away."

"I know," she agreed. For quite some time, we sat there, discussing the merits of the two dildos.

"So what can we do to make it work?" I asked. "Without losing the purpose of the ceremony, what can we do differently that would make it possible for Brandi and the others like her get through the whole thing?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I think your comments about looking out for phobias is a big step in the right direction but that might just make it impossible for some of us to become members."

"That's not what we want," I replied. "We are very selective only in that we want women who are open minded and quite sexual for obvious reasons. They have to show an indication of compatibility and acceptance as well as a personality that would make it easy to fit in with current members. Would it help if rather than restraining these members, we have women simply hold their arms and legs in place?"

"I doubt it because you are still helpless and being controlled," she replied.

I thought for a few seconds and an idea came to mind. "Brandi, I wonder if it would make a difference if you yourself placed your hands and feet into some kind of restraint, maybe like the stirrups at the gynecologist's office or the grips on an exercise machine."

She pondered her reply for a few minutes. "That might work," she agreed, "because you would know that you had the ability to get out of them. Psychologically you wouldn't feel controlled."

"Exactly. Would you be willing to try again if we worked something out like that?"

"I might," she replied, "but I have no way to know if there are other problems in the rest of the ceremony."

"That creates a problem because I can't reveal the rest of the ceremony. There is really only one more thing you have to get through though."

"I have a feeling it involves anal am I right?" she asked.

"Would you have a problem with that if it was?" I asked, without directly confirming her suspicions.

"I've never done that. I've heard some horrible stories about it though so I might. You might also try to determine if the candidate had a bad experience with it because that might push them over the edge, especially if they were raped or sodomized against their will."

"I'm starting to think we need a standard preliminary questionnaire that each candidate must complete before we get too far into the process." I replied.

"Is there a lot of pain?" she wondered.

"No, not if the person doing it knows what they are doing," I assured her.

"When you get things worked out, would you contact me and tell me what the changes are?" she asked. "I'd like to keep my options open in the mean time."

"Absolutely," I replied. "I'll contact you personally and I appreciate the opportunity to make it work for you.

She nodded slowly. "You know, it would be so nice to have something like that. Somewhere I can go to meet other lesbians other than a bar. Somewhere I can speak openly about our lifestyle without looking around to see who is listening. I might even meet someone again. Someone special."

"I know you would, Brandi. We have such wonderful members and in the meantime you can have some great sex if that's what you want or just lay out nude and get a tan or take a dip in one of the new pools that will be open within a month. The place we call The Windward is already being used and the pools there are brand new. I've seen them but haven't had a chance to use them yet."

"I've got some snacks and more coffee in the kitchen," she advised, getting up to go get them. I watched as she walked away and wondered who the lucky woman would be to make her life special again.

I got up and followed her to the kitchen to find her putting everything on a tray. "Let me help you, Brandi," I offered as I walked over to take the coffee from her. "I wish this kitchen was in my place," I mused. "Mine is about a third this large."

"This is my one big concession," she admitted. "I bought this place long before I could afford it and the kitchen was a big selling point, although I have no idea why I cared." She started laughing and when she saw my puzzled expression, she explained. "I can't cook worth a damn."