tagLesbian SexPleasure in Control Ch. 05

Pleasure in Control Ch. 05

byjulie_julia©

Julia lands a dream job with a top fashion lingerie house that leads her into a life of beautiful women and daring sexual exploits. In this autobiographical story, Julia explores her sexuality and her body as well as her new contacts. Gradually she pushed the boundaries of her experiences and enters a secret world of lesbian passion, sex and more.

This is a full length novel and this is Chapter 5 of 17. If you like this please let me know though the site and I'll post some more. It gets much hotter and the sex much more explicit but I'm keeping you guessing for now.

This is only as fictional as you want it to be but you will not recognise any of the names. Act out parts of my life if you wish, but be kind, stay safe and stay legal.


Chapter 5 (Friday)

I strode confidently through the main doors of the up-market department store on Knightsbridge (no, not that one, more sophisticated) and headed straight for the lingerie department. I had a clear plan. Evaluate the first visual impression that the Passionella display projects, seen through the eyes of a prospective customer. Are the clothes attractively displayed? Are the staff alert? Am I given enough time to browse before being approached? I made some mental notes, using simple aide-memoirs to help me to recall the key points later

"Good morning, have you noticed that we have three colour themes in each of our day-wear ranges?" Much better than 'can I help you!' The owner of the voice, a subtle but noticeable American accent, was easily 4" taller than me (and I'm not short), giving her an imposing but not overbearing presence as she stood next to me. "No I hadn't, thanks for drawing that to my attention. Please, tell me a little more about these bras."

Miss nearly-six-feet-tall bleached-blonde full-lipped brown-eyed too-much-make-up from California gave a pretty accurate but rather ordinary description of the range. She didn't sell them but this was my first visit; she didn't know I was a card-carrying Passionella client and perhaps was trying too hard to be pragmatic.

I picked three scenarios from my rehearsed repertoire, choosing comfortable daywear for the office, racy hen night & something sophisticated for a special weekend away. Stevie asked my size and selected several items from the rails. I gave her a hard time, rejecting most of them and developing my character as I went along. "I prefer to draw attention away from my breasts when I am interviewing, it can be a distraction for my recruits. Do you have something with less uplift?" Finally we settled on a white cotton bra with no underwiring and matching briefs, a bright red halter-neck string bikini bra and thong with tie straps and a low-cut lemon-yellow lacy balconette bra with wide-spaced straps, matching high-leg panties and suspender belt. Appropriately, Stevie allowed me to try them on alone in the changing rooms.

Pity, I thought, I would have loved someone else to have seen me in the red racy set – I hardly recognised myself when I looked in the mirror. The bra was made from thin stretchy Lycra/polyester and it clung to my curves. My nipples poked out confidently through the material and the outline of my bush was clearly visible. I had tied the halter neck straps tighter and they'd pulled my boobs upwards and together making them look as sexy as they could ever be. When I pulled the bows of the thong's side straps onto the tops of my hips and wriggled by bum the narrow web disappeared into my bum-crack, sliding against my arsehole. It made me feel so young and horny that I dared not look too long in the mirror as I was unusually aroused for this time in the morning and here would not be a good place to have to 'relieve the tension'. I promised to show Kirsten at the weekend instead.

I purchased with cash so as not to expose my Passionella status on my first call and strolled to the Sushi bar on the top floor. I tapped notes any comments into my laptop, taking care to be objective and to make positive suggestions, not letting the feeling between my legs influence my thinking. I headed for the tube, stopping by at the station luggage lockers to leave my new purchases so not to give the game away at my next call, Regent Street. I acted out a similar performance and came away with two more pieces then headed to Oxford Street and more familiar surroundings.

As I approached the Passionella display, I saw Fiona serving another customer. I rustled through the rails and she looked over and smiled an expression of instant recognition. As soon as her customer left she headed over to me and welcomed me almost as a friend. By now I was clutching two distinctive Passionella carrier bags with huge lips logos emblazoned on both sides so it was easy for me to decline to buy anything else. But Fiona still made me feel important and valued. She even offered to model some clothes, 'no obligation', but Fiona is not my size and is much older than me. I declined politely but made a note of her perfect timing and discreet but persuasive style. Stevie, despite my early misgivings, was much more my type. I decided to put her to the test and headed back to Knightsbridge.

Stevie was rearranging some stock but stopped as soon as I approached. I handed her my Passionella credit card, which surprised her, then picked out a particularly striking bra I had seen earlier. I asked Stevie for my size; she was unable to locate one in the store but turned to the computerised till and identified one in another outlet, in Scotland. Offering to order it for me, she then suggested that as her size was on the rail she could model it for me to help me to deicide. I agreed, recognising that Stevie was following her Passionella training to the letter, concealing my excitement that I was to spend a few minutes locked in a dedicated Passionella changing room with a tall and assertive woman.

With the door closed securely behind us, Stevie handled the bra, pointing out a few details that I had failed to notice. Then, in a single well-practiced movement, she pulled her jumper over her head.

The thick knitted top had done a pretty good job of concealing her figure but now I was left in no doubt. Stevie has large breasts, which sit low-ish on her chest. But because she is so tall, they do not appear droopy. Instead I found the large area of upper rib cage to be alluring, leading my eyes on a journey from her neck down to the outward curve of her boobs. But I wasn't ready for what came next. Stevie reached behind her back to unclip her bra and quickly removed it; I stifled a small gasp as I caught sight of her nipples. Small in themselves, they sat dead in the centre of enormous, well-defined round areole that all but covered the fronts of her full breasts. Size 34D I guessed, making her areole between 2½ and 3 inches in diameter. A beautiful and slightly mysterious dark brown; I was captivated.

Stevie appreciated the attention I was giving her and was in no hurry to encase her proud breasts in the bra she was supposed to be modelling. Instead, and to my great pleasure, she cupped her breasts in her upturned hands and invitingly pushed them upwards, making an idle remark about freedom. They were nothing like as firm as Rachel's but I was spellbound as her huge, dark areole changed shape subtly as she moved her hands. I needed all my self-control to prevent myself from leaning forward and drawing each nipple seductively into my mouth.

To my delight, Stevie had to lean forward to pick up the bra in which I had expressed an interest; her boobs hung down from her chest in elongated shapes best likened to the ends of a small rugby ball - wondrously sexy. She guided them into the bra cups and stood upright. Then, to my further delectation, she invited me to fasten the clips behind her. But instead of turning her back to me, she moved nearer so the only way I could complete this delicate operation was to press myself against her and reach behind her. I spent much longer than I needed to, enjoying the feel of her fabric-wrapped breasts against mine; Stevie made warm, encouraging noises.

When I stepped back, she twisted her tall and impressive body from side to side so I could now appreciate the feature that first attracted me to this bra. The sides and back were formed of open webs of narrow black elasticated fabric with no infilling, as were the shoulder straps. As a result, there was a striking contrast between Stevie's smooth, tanned skin and the black of the rounded, deep satin cups held together with only the most fragile spider's web. Her boobs were lifted and held slightly apart to form a rounded, wide cleavage, her huge areole only just concealed by the plunging cups. I just had to get one of these!

Somehow I had failed to realise that Stevie had also brought a matching bottom-half into the room. Without warning, she unbuttoned her trousers and stepped out of them. She pulled off her sensible panties and stepped quickly and neatly into the devastatingly sexy g-string. It was made in a similar way to the bra so the tiny triangle-shape of satin, that barely covered her pubic area, was held in place by several narrow straps on each side, which she organised carefully over her muscled tummy. They converged as she wrapped them around the sides of her hips with her professionally-manicured fingertips and met high over her coccyx, stitched to an even smaller triangle of fabric. Finally, a narrow strap disappeared down between her firm buttocks ending its journey at a place I couldn't see, until Stevie delivered the unrequested and unequivocal finale of bending forward with her back to me. With her hands on her parted knees, she wriggled her tight, peachy bum-cheeks at me, showing the pink edges of her clean and hairless arsehole peeping either side of the single narrow culmination of the most erotic spider's web of sensual black fabric I could imagine that then continued down to join a skimpy triangle that barely covered the enticing shape of her rounded, proud and excruciatingly-inviting pussy-mound. I sank slowly onto the padded seat and just shook.

"Like it?" she asked.

I couldn't answer. My mouth was dry and I knew where the moisture had gone as my own pussy flooded with delicious warm juices.

Stevie was loving every moment. She didn't need an answer. She stood tall and turned once more, asking "Would you like me to ask the Edinburgh store to send one down?" Composing myself, I explained I was going to Scotland next week (I was) and asked if they could keep a set in my size. Stevie then undressed in a matter-of-fact way and put her own clothes back on. I doubted that mine was the only wet vulva in that locked room and I hoped she wasn't going to put that thong back on the display rail.

Sensing correctly that I was just the sort of customer that Passionella had trained her to nurture and develop, she invited me to come back at any time when she would be happy to model for me again. Finally, she casually mentioned that Passionella sometimes put on private showings. "Are you interested in coming along?" she enquired, treading cautiously so as not to offend but probably in little doubt that I was.

When I eventually left the store, I was clutching my two Passionella carriers, several other bags of designer clothes and items I knew I would need for my apartment, and a personal invitation, as a guest of tall and confident Stevie, to the product launch at Prom the following Thursday. This was all working out so well!

I was really pleased with the way my first working day had gone and when I arrived back at Kirsten's apartment I sat down and typed up the last of my visit notes. I hooked up my laptop to the phone-line and e-mailed in my reports to Emma. I sat back and relaxed, my working week at an end.

It seemed ages since I left Paris early on Monday morning; so much had happened. I had encountered some seriously sexy ladies and had experienced some of the most erotic events of my life. I had bought some beautiful clothes, which I was not paying for, and I had invented a new me. I'd masturbated to one of the best orgasms of my life in someone else's apartment and I had shown off my body in ways I never imagined.

Now I was looking forward to telling my new and exciting friend about it, and showing her some of my purchases. Kirsten had promised to help me move in the next day; in some ways I knew I would miss her but would also enjoy the independence.

I heard her key in the front door and Kirsten tumbled into the room looking tired and dishevelled after a long journey home.

"Kirsten, it's great to see you again," I greeted her. "I've got so much to tell you. But I suggest you sit down whilst I pour a couple of beers from the fridge and give you the chance to relax," I continued, even though I really wanted to babble on endlessly about my day.

Kirsten looked grateful, for the beer but also that I was not going to bombard her with my news like a kid home from her first day at a new school. Adopting the maturity of Julia, I enquired after her trip and listened attentively, nodding and encouraging her at all the right moments.

"The provincial stores are trading really strongly and there is a huge untapped market in the north. I've just agreed a franchise operation at a well-known department store in Manchester. We will need to put our own Personal Shopper in place – no, it won't be me – to train up a team of new Dems."

I took the opportunity to ask Kirsten more about how Passionella goes about recruiting new girls. "We have our ways. Some are ex-fashion models"

"Yeah, Emma mentioned that" I reinforced. "For example, Linda recruited Fiona and Charlotte from the agencies when they got too old to model the top collections. Yes, you are already too old at 23! Fiona did mostly studio photography work after that and she's put on a bit of weight since those days but she is still gorgeous. She's popular with our older clients.

"I thought I had recognised Fiona in some of the product publicity shots, she is so photogenic" I remarked. "Isn't she just, and she hasn't forgotten how to strut her stuff at our fashions shows either" I looked forward to seeing her 'strutting'. Kirsten continued: "Charlotte joined straight from the catwalks as a Dem but soon progressed to where she is now – Linda picks winners. Oh, have you met Stevie?" I nodded. "Charlotte found her in the windows of the Amsterdam Red Light district whilst on holiday there. Don't ask me what C was doing in the Red Light District. Stevie was working her way across Europe and was totally wasted there; she moved to England and has never looked back." "I can imagine. She's fantastic. In the changing rooms she ..." Kirsten held up her hand. "Don't tell me yet, I want to hear it all, but later."

"Where did Rachel come from?" I enquired, "I think she is terrific."

"So does Linda. Rachel spent a week in our photographer's studio as an assistant for her school work-experience placement. Linda saw some shots of her wearing our products after one of our studio sessions and offered her a job straight after she left school. She trained her and sent her out to the stores as a junior Dem. She learns fast and was soon one of the best. I'm not sure where some of the other girls came from and Emma is a bit of a mystery. I think she may be an old friend of Linda's."

I couldn't wait to ask the next question. "How did you come to join Passionella, Kirsten?" She smiled. "I'll tell you one day" "No, come on, tell me - did you just answer an advert or something?" "Sweetie, Passionella can't just place adverts. What would they say? 'Join Passionella and sell the high-class lingerie to the world's most successful and glamorous women. Generous rewards package; get paid extra to fuck your clients."

After a long pause, during which I must have looked totally shell-shocked, Kirsten explained. "These women don't just shop at Passionella to buy clothes. They are looking for something else. They want to feel very special and receive close personal attention. Passionella employees are not allowed to actually fuck the clients but it can get pretty close sometimes, even in the store changing rooms." I urged Kirsten to explain in more detail. "When the Dems model the clothes - we call it 'demonstrating' - the clients are encouraged to masturbate themselves."

"What?! – Right there in the store?"

"Yep, the risk is part of the fun; they have to be very quiet! We have had some close calls with the store managers and complaints from other customers about our Dems spending too long locked in the changing rooms. This is why L then created the concept of the Private Rooms at PROM. They are soundproofed and very discreet. They open up even greater possibilities; clients can indulge all kinds of pleasures and fantasies behind closed doors. Often, the Dems join in too and bring themselves off."

I found all this difficult to take in.

"There are limits though, and we never allow 2 clients to be left alone together. And, remember the rule, Look, Don't Touch; but it is surprising what some Dems manage to do to, and with, their best clients without actually touching them."

"There is another rule too. Dems must not come before their clients, unless the client gives permission. It can be quite a challenge to hold back in what can be a very highly charged sexual encounter."

Thinking hard, I put more of the pieces together. "So this explains the exceptional profitability of Passionella? C hinted at this earlier in the week."

"Oh, yes, the clients pay very well for the services of the Dems and they have to rent the Private Rooms too. It's highly lucrative. Linda can afford to pay generous bonuses to the Dems for the extra 'demonstrations', and the clients look after them very well too."

"In what ways?" I mused.

"Oh you know, presents, holidays, even bundles of cash in plain brown envelopes. All part of the game, sweetie." (I wished she wouldn't call me sweetie).

It was then Kirsten's turn to look puzzled. "Didn't Emma explain all this to you before you accepted the job?"

"Well, sort of" I replied.

"You do realise, don't you, that to keep up your pretence of being a valued Passionella client, you are going to have to act the part. Fully, in every way, just as I've described."

All kinds of images were flashing through my mind, of frigging myself off in a locked room with a rich and fantastically attractive woman posing in luxury Italian lingerie? Fantastic! My pussy was sending strong messages of approval to my brain.

"But you'll be great, from what I've seen and heard. You are a very sexy lady and you are going to love it. You have a lot to learn, though. But don't worry – I'm assigned as your mentor, I'll show you the ropes."

"Where are they kept?" I joked. But Kirsten only smiled and winked at me.

"Come on." Kirsten changed the tone and became more relaxed and animated. "Tell me what Stevie did. She's great, isn't she! I trained her when she first came over from Holland."

I started to unfold the full story of what had happened in the changing room with Stevie in graphic and increasingly explicit detail. Kirsten sat forward on the front edge of her chair. I described the way she undressed so confidently then cupped her breasts in her hands. I told Kirsten that I had wanted to suck them; she was not surprised. I went on to describe how she compelled me to press myself against her body to secure her bra straps.

"Hey, I taught her how to do that!" exclaimed Kirsten with a satisfied grin. Then I told her all about the bra and g-string she wore and how she showed it off by moving and turning so provocatively. Finally, when I recounted how she bent forward to show me the thong-strap between her arse cheeks, Kirsten squealed: "That was my trick too. She learns well, does our Stevie!"

I explained to her how all this had made me feel, and asked with some trepidation: "Should I have frigged myself, there and then?"

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