Pleasure in Control Ch. 09

byjulie_julia©

As I moved and posed, Linda gyrated and wriggled her hips, which turned me on even more. I detached my thong from the clasps on the basque and eagerly anticipated the relief this would bring to my already horny pussy. But instead of relief, I was rewarded with a sudden rush of blood to my cunt lips and my clit as I peeled away the tight, constricting mesh fabric from between my legs. My knees went weak and Linda let out a long 'mmmmmm' at the sight.

"Take off your basque now and let me see your tits, Julia", she growled.

I had to reach behind me to unclip the numerous hooks, the effect of which was to press my hard, engorged nipples firmly against their captors. The other effect was to give Linda a treat as my firm breasts spilled over the top of the cups.

Finally I stood naked before my employer.

What next? I wondered.

"Cup your breasts," she instructed.

Obligingly I slipped my hands under my heavy, sweating boobs and lifted them, as if offering them to my master on a silver platter.

"Well done. Now squeeze your nipples."

Linda either hadn't realised just how close I was to coming or she was deliberately pushing me to my limits of endurance and self-denial. I found the whole situation fabulously arousing, far more so that I could possibly have imagined, and was unsure just how much of a show I'd be able to put on for her before tipping myself over the edge, but I decided to try my best.

I cupped my outspread hands over my breasts, allowing my swollen nipples to extrude between my second and third fingers. Then I closed my fingers, trapping my highly-sensitive buds. Slowly I moved my hands away from my soft fleshy mounds, pulling and stretching my dark nipples and areolae into long cones. The feelings were indescribable and my exposed pussy pulsed in appreciation. I opened my fingers again and my nipples quickly retracted back to their usual, albeit highly erect, shape. The rush of blood back into them as I released them sent a second wave of sexual messages through my nervous system and I let out a muted cry.

"No, squeeze them between your fingers and thumbs," demanded Linda.

I obeyed.

"And roll them, yes, good, and pull them too. Harder, squeeze them harder!" Linda's instructions came in a more urgent, breathless staccato. Feelings of pain merged with feelings of pleasure and my brain could not easily distinguish the two. I knew I was enjoying the sensations, but I was unsure if it was the pleasure or the pain that I enjoyed more. My nipples were more sensitive than I could ever remember and I wanted Linda to feel how hard they were. More than that, I wanted her to kiss them and lick them and suck them into her mouth. To roll her tongue around them and along their distended length and to cool them by blowing softly on their wetness with the breath from her pouting, luscious lips. I wanted her to bite them between her teeth, gently but firmly. I wanted my fingers to be her fingers, turning me on more than I could stand. My mind was swimming in an increasingly delirious sea of arousal.

Then came another instruction

"Dance!"

I danced and twisted. I gyrated and I swayed. I tried my best but my mind was on other things. Actually, on just one thing that was making its presence felt: my hot, twitching and desperately horny clit was sending shots of sexual electricity up my belly and via my erect nipples to my brain, than all the way back again.

I looked at Linda. She was repeatedly opening and closing her eyes and her body was covered in perspiration. Just like Helen had, she occasionally bent her knees to heighten the sensation between her legs then stiffened, crossing her ankles and clamping her thighs tight together. She was obviously highly aroused, but would she be able to reach that elusive climax? What more would she expect of me? I was ecstatic but determined to hold out, in the faint hope that Linda would come before me.

Linda's Mesh lingerie cut into her flesh on her shoulders and her pubic mound as she reached her arms high into the air. "Take this thong off me, Julia," she pleaded, "my pussy's so hot. I need to feel the sensations in my clit, Julia." That's what I wanted to hear; I was now sure that Linda felt able to come. She wanted to and believed she could.

I reached down and unclipped the tight straps of her thong from the bottom of her basque. Her Mesh thong fell to the floor and her top rode up higher on her torso, lifting her small breasts. The sweet aroma of her sex filled the air and I dared to look down to see her dark cunt lips between her parted thighs.

"Do you like to look at other women's pussies, Julia? She asked. I looked up at her face and nodded bashfully.

"So do I, Julia," she replied. "Show me yours, Julia. Show me your pussy, please Julia," she insisted. "Open it up so I can see."

I hesitated but I'd have done anything for dear Linda. So I sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall and I pulled up my knees. Slowly I spread my feet wide apart on the floor and I opened my legs. My pussy was so wet that it squelched as my lips parted and sex-juice oozed from my vagina and ran down my perineum. The cool air on my open cunt brought just a little temporary relief from the intensity of stimulation so I dared to I run my fingers along my bare inner thighs above the lacy tops of my stockings and I looked up at Linda.

But she was still firmly bound to the ceiling supports so she could do none of these things. She couldn't touch herself even if she wanted to.

Then another command arrived: "Open your cunt wide. Pull your lips apart so I can really see you."

'Oh shit,' I thought, 'I can't stand this.' I was now convinced that actually she was just being sadistic. I stalled but compelled myself to move my hands slowly over my abdomen, as much for myself as for Linda's pleasure and to delay the moment when I would actually touch myself in front of my boss. Sliding my two index fingers over my neat shield of short pubic hair, I let them rest together, concealing my slit from her view. Then I looked up at Linda and slowly moved my fingers apart, peeling my inner lips apart to expose the inner pink wetness of my vagina.

Linda moaned and ground her hips in circles. Her cunt looked wild and horny and deliciously sexy as she thrust her pelvis towards me. I wanted to reach out and touch her but did not dare take such a risk.

"Rub your clit, Julia," came my next orders. I almost came just at the mere thought.

Submissively I dragged both fingers slowly up my pussy and moved them together when they reached what seemed like the centre of my universe. I pressed my clit and I shook uncontrollably. I couldn't remember ever being so turned on and so close to orgasm but still being able to hold back and prevent myself from coming. The feelings were of intense self-inflicted torture, as though I dare not even blink in case the movement should tip me over the brink. I felt very weak. I removed one hand to support myself and lay on my left side. I lifted my right stocking-clad leg high and I frigged myself. Yes, right there in front of Linda, company president, currently tethered but still very much in control, I brushed my finger over my clit. Round and round, up and down and from side to side, barely touching my pulsing pink bud, extracting the last few seconds of self-restraint from the depths of my consciousness.

Linda's cunt was fat and engorged. Her lips sparkled with her wetness and the muscles inside her thighs tensed spasmodically. I sensed that Linda's end was coming soon and I took a huge chance.

"It's OK, Linda, you can come now. It's all right, really. Mrs Grundleton is away today."

Linda froze.

"Relax, She's not here today. She won't find us. We can have some fun; I won't tell"

Linda faltered, her throat dry and her voice weak: "Are you ... sure?"

"Yes," I reassured her, "I saw her leave."

"You mean, no-one will hear us?" she asked.

"Yes, we're alone. Totally alone. No-one will interrupt us. No-one will punish us," I confirmed.

"But, I've been naughty, I deserve to be punished." Linda continued.

"This is your punishment. You've been very bad, that's why you're tied up. So you can't masturbate. So you can't come."

"But I can. You can't stop me," Linda retorted, defiantly.

"You can't come because you can't touch yourself. You're not allowed to."

"But I can come. I know I can. Watch me."

Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. She rocked on her heels and she rolled her pelvis.

"Is this what they did?" I taunted. "The girls, on their beds, where you could see them? Did they show you their pussies? Did they masturbate in front of you when they knew you couldn't? Did they come, Linda? Did they?"

Linda nodded. "Yes, but they weren't like you," she whispered. "They didn't turn me on the way you do. Since the day I first saw you, my pussy has ached for you. I've experienced feelings that I forgotten I'd ever known. You, you, you make me ... I need to ... I can... I'm going to ..."

Linda had her eyes closed - she didn't need me now. She was lost in her own sensations and her movements became rapid and erratic. She was moaning and panting and her pubic hair glistened with her moisture.

Then suddenly she half-whispered and half-screamed: "Fuck you, Mrs Grundleton" and erupted in a powerful, shuddering orgasm.

It went on for ages. Linda lifted one foot off the floor and crossed her calf above her other knee. She let out a long, low, animal cry as she thrust her pelvis and curled her shoulders forward into the nearest she could get to the foetal position, considering the inconvenience of having her arms tied above her head. She contorted and squirmed and, sure that she'd fallen over the parapet of ecstasy into the long descent of gratification, I let myself go too and came with a muffled cry as I bit my bottom lip.

I lay on my back exhausted and stared at the ceiling.

When the sensations had subsided, Linda looked down at me lying on the floor, legs now stretched out straight and wide apart.

Considering the enormity and significance of what had just happened, I fully expected Linda to either cry or to offer some explanation of her behaviour. But no. Linda calmly asked me to release her wrists and she slipped out of her black Mesh basque. Her shoulders bore deep, red marks from the tightness of the straps and she rubbed her wrists a couple of times. We sat quietly to collect ourselves and get our breath back.

Neither of us spoke but I took Linda's lead and we dressed in our day clothes. I didn't dare to wear any Panties as my pussy was far too sensitive. However, I slipped into my bra even though it tormented my swollen breasts, as the alternative of having my bare nipples rub against the fabric of my jacket would have been too unbearable to even contemplate.

"We'll take a cab to PROM," Linda announced in a matter-of-fact tone. "Wait on the pavement for 10 minutes after we arrive; I'll tell Rachel that I'm expecting you so she'll send you straight up."

We emerged from the changing room together and I avoided Danielle's gaze and that of several curious clients queuing to use the room. They must have heard us; what would they think? And what might they say?

Linda & I sat in silence for the whole cab ride. She strode purposefully into her company HQ and the door swung shut behind her. Feeling vulnerable and abandoned, I stood outside looking like a high-class hooker and received several unwelcome propositions whilst I counted to 599 under my breath.

"Hello Julia," greeted Rachel. For once I took no notice of her clothes. "Go straight up, Linda's expecting you." I walked up the stairs carefully so as not to expose my sore and naked pussy through the side splits of my skirt.

Linda's office door was open. "Come in," she called, "and close the door." I did.

Linda sat on one of her two plush sofas and motioned for me to sit opposite, where I pondered my fate.

"How did you know?" she demanded, sternly. "Who told you?"

"Told me what?" I asked, knowing full well, but buying time like a seasoned politician during a difficult TV interview.

"Not what, who."

"Who? Oh, her, Mrs er, Mrs, what was her name?"

"Yes, you know," retorted Linda in an agitated tone "You know her name, you said it. Yes, Mrs Grundleton of course. Who else?"

No sense in pretending. "Partly school gossip and partly my powers of deduction," I replied. (I didn't actually lie, I just left out the third part i.e. that Kirsten and Emma had told me the whole story).

"I picked up odd snippets about you from my colleagues and put them together with what I'd heard about an incident at my school years before. I formed a hypothesis and tested it, gradually realising that the legend fitted you perfectly."

I could have continued but decided that we might as well get to the dismissal bit as quickly and painlessly as possible, so I shut up. I'd blown my dream job through a mixture of well-meaning but misguided desire to help a woman with a sexual hang-up (which was really none of my business) and sheer self-indulgence at her expense. Shit, shit, shit.

"Well, Julia," Linda continued, "I can't even start to tell you how grateful I am. Thank you."

If I hadn't been encased in the deep folds of Linda's sofa, I would have fallen off my seat.

"We have a lot to talk about - can you do lunch tomorrow?" she asked.

I could hardly refuse.

*********************************************

We met at my favourite restaurant in St Christopher's Place and made some small-talk. Linda was dressed less formally than usual and had an easy, relaxed air about her that I hadn't seen before. She wore a skinny ribbed jumper and tight trousers with slits half way up her calves. She picked at her salad and passed on dessert, ordering a double espresso, which she nursed close to her at the edge of the table. Then she looked up at me and started to speak softly.

She proceeded to tell me all the key points in her life since her 30 days of torment at school right up to the present day, including the creation of Passionella UK, the whole idea of the Private Rooms, the role of the Sales Demonstrators and the importance of the in-store changing rooms. She recounted everything that Kirsten and Emma had told me, and a whole lot more besides. Her life since that boarding-school incident had had a single purpose i.e. to encounter as many attractive, sophisticated, sensual women as possible and to place them in varied erotic situations in the seemingly vain hope that one day she could find a woman who could turn her on so much that she could once more reach orgasm.

Feeling brave, I asked: "was that, actually, well, er, the first orgasm you've had for, what, 15 years?"

Linda nodded.

"16"

I sat back in my chair. "Oh, Linda, you poor thing. How could you ..."

Linda interrupted: "It's not what I could, it's what I couldn't that meant I had to go without for so long. Oh, Julia, I'd have loved to come. Don't you think I tried? I've been through hell. I can't start to tell you some of the lengths I went to, to try to achieve what I did, sorry, we did, yesterday."

"You see," she continued, "I feel sick if I try to touch my own genitals, many times I have actually been physically sick. You must understand that I couldn't possibly be intimate with anyone when I couldn't bear even the thought of them touching me."

"Why do you think you felt that way?" I enquired, fearing that I might pry too closely.

"Firstly, use the past tense with care. I don't suppose that one incident yesterday will have 'cured' me overnight; I haven't tried to masturbate yet. But, I know exactly why I find sex so repulsive."

I sat forward on the edge of my chair.

"At night, in the school, when I was handcuffed to my bed, some of the girls would parade in front of me, performing mock and real sex acts. I guess you knew that." I nodded.

"But it got worse until one night, someone gagged me and fondled me. First my body, then my breasts. Then she touched my pussy and tried to masturbate me. I struggled but couldn't stop her. My tightly-secured body was sending mixed messages; I was aroused from the tauntings and teasings of the other girls and in some ways the attention was welcome. Unable to fend her off, really I wanted to come, but I needed to know who's finger was on my trigger. I forced my eyes open to try to see who it was and in the faint moonlight, I realised it was her."

"Who, surely not, Mrs Grundleton?"

"Yes," Linda confirmed, "my captor, the same woman in whom my parents had entrusted my education, my well-being and my emotional development was now trying to have lesbian sex with me, the very thing for which I was being punished. The sheer hypocrisy as well as the physical abuse made me sick. Physically sick, right there in my bed. And she even punished me more the next day for soiling my bedclothes."

I didn't know what to say but I was awe-struck by Linda's openness, that she was willing to tell me all this in such intimate detail.

"Didn't you complain, or report her to the police, or tell your parents?"

Linda had tears in her eyes now. "Who'd have believed me?"

I could see her point.

"So that's why I can't bear genital stimulation, I find it quite repulsive.

But hopefully that's all history now" she continued. "Julia, I feel like today is the start of a new life for me. A fresh start - but only a start. I need to bury the past and try to build a sex life. At least I know I can still come, but I'm not sure if I can let someone touch me." Then she leant towards me. "Will you help me find out?"

I answered quickly and affirmatively without thinking, only wondering afterwards what I might have taken on. I was hardly a trained sexual psychotherapist but I wanted to help. I also grappled with the realisation that in recent months I had totally lost interest in men, preferring to derive my sexual arousal from women. By agreeing to 'help' Linda, I was in effect committing myself to a lesbian relationship. But I was not afraid. Linda had searched long and hard for a woman who could excite her to the point of orgasm, a special kind of orgasm, a Look-Don't-Touch orgasm. Obviously, I was her. Her quest was now over, I assumed, but the journey had only just begun.

"Take the rest of the day off, Julia. I'm going home and I need time to think. I'm not yet ready to try sex in any form, I need to work this through gradually. Oh, if you have any ideas ..." Linda's sentence was left unfinished, but I knew the implications.

Linda paid the lunch bill and turned to leave. Then she came back and planted a big kiss full on my lips.

**********************************************

Kirsten, Emma and I met up in the new bar round the corner from the office as arranged. It was already busy with lively Saturday lunchtime customers. I explained what had happened but only after Kirsten and Emma had sworn secrecy.

"You can't just seduce her and expect to get your hands in her panties on your first night," Emma opined, "only a bloke would expect to be able to do that. And especially after what she has been through". We both nodded.

We brainstormed and skirted around the subject and discounted suggestions as quickly as they were made until Emma exclaimed 'Dildoes'. The people on the next table looked across and made sshhhh-ing noises. We continued to talk in whispers.

"If she won't let you touch her, use a sex toy. It's as close as you're likely to get without actually touching her. It's what the Dems do all the time in the changing rooms to get around Linda's LDT rule."

I protested: "But I've never used a dildo, not even on myself, let alone on anyone else."

Kirsten and Emma looked stunned. "But surely, sweetie, you must have." pressed Kirsten. "You found mine, didn't you? Surely, you tried them out?"

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