Pleasure in Control Ch. 16

I arrived at Passionella HQ at 6 pm as agreed and the building was already buzzing with excitement. The company's senior management in the desirable form of Linda, Charlotte and Emma were organising caterers, furniture and each other in equal shares but each took the time to give me a peck on both cheeks. I was ushered into Yellow private room to change and be made up (I declined, as usual) before slipping on my first outfit: a black satin uplift balcony bra with matching panties. Slim & sexy Charlotte had fitted me out with my very first Passionella uniform consisting of a jacket with three-quarter-length sleeves and wide decorated lapels in corporate burgundy, with matching tight trousers. I squeezed my body inside, breathed in deeply and sighed as I finally felt like a true Passionella girl. My boobs swelled between the jacket lapels and rose proudly from my bra. I felt terrific, excited and nervous as well as sexy and somewhat aroused by what lay ahead.

I shared the luxurious changing room with company 'Dem' Helen and her Spanish colleague Maria who would also be modelling during the evening. Both were fully informed, congratulating me on my appointment as a consultant to Passionella UK and also commenting on my prominence in the new catalogue. We chatted freely and the girls were unashamed of their curvaceous, naked bodies in my presence, touching themselves and each other in relaxed and provocative ways. But through the open door I could hear that a very different atmosphere prevailed in at least one of the other Private Rooms. The air was filled with catty bitchiness that degenerated into a slagging-off contest that was eventually terminated by a stern but fair intervention by the voluptuous Emma.

In the corridor I bumped into big-bosomed Passionella client Xara and we exchanged knowing looks. Charlotte asked if we had met before (we smiled broadly) and went on to explain that Xara was a guest model for the evening and would be wearing some special lines available in larger cup sizes. Xara asked if I fancied a 'lift' after the show; Charlotte laughed awkwardly, assuming the joke related to the capacity of Xara's bra rather than a ride in her car, but I knew to what she really referred. I declined politely; I had other plans.

Dressed and prepared, we mingled with the invited guest clients in the foyer. A buzz of excitement filled the air and everywhere seemed to be festooned with helium balloons tethered to small floor weights (in the shape of the Passionella logo) by real silk ribbons in corporate burgundy – attention to detail and no expense spared!

The new Passionella catalogue was freely available and several of the photos, including some of me, had been blown up to larger-than-life-size and hung prominently on the walls. The room was filled with the heady aroma of fine Italian espresso coffee, good food and premium-brand women's fragrances.

Diane was hardly recognisable in a severe but very sophisticated S&M outfit, all the more effective in that it concealed rather than revealed yet projected eroticism from every angle. She kissed me on both cheeks (her leather outfit squeaked erotically with her every move) and brushed aside my compliments on her catalogue photography.

The reception cocktail party would have provided a professor of body language with more material than he or she could ever need as we gestured, touched, glanced, stood and moved in countless ways, communicating every unspoken mood and relationship signal know to womankind. Several pairs and groups of attractive woman seemed to have taken overt-flirting lessons from Yasmin and Zoë who then excelled themselves in the shameless and passionate way they kissed and caressed each other as well as some of their friends and acquaintances.

I was feeling fabulous as I soaked up the atmosphere as well as the compliments and genuine admiration of colleagues and customers alike. Despite the pretence of my new 'consultant' status, I felt far more relaxed than when I'd previously hidden awkwardly behind my false 'client' persona.

Rachel looked as sexy as ever but now had her hair cut very severely and dyed jet black. She ushered my small group and I into the showroom where Linda welcomed us all and introduced the show, eliciting polite applause from the crowded room.

On the catwalk there followed the most erotically charged display of scantily-clad gorgeous women one could ever hope to see, matched only by the rapturous enthusiasm of the receptive audience. Fiona, my favourite red-head, seemed to be in a dream world as she displayed her freckled and mature yet evocative body, squeezed into an impossibly skimpy black bra and panties decorated with metallic silver designs echoing Moroccan and Turkish influences, whilst Stevie continued the Near East theme as she belly-danced her way across the stage in a gold-tasselled maroon and deep ochre plunge-neck short top and a tiny matching skirt.

Vikki strutted her stuff in a lycra creation that left nothing to the imagination, the mass of buckles and rings unable to distract attention from the clearly-defined shape of her small-but-perfectly-formed 32A breasts, her narrow waist and the prominent mound at the top of her slim thighs. Her outfit included tight gloves that were laced all the way up her upper arms and opaque tight stockings that were secured to wide suspender straps attached to the bottom edge of her suit. She walked confidently despite being elevated on 2" platform soles and 6" stiletto heels.

A huge cheer rose up as Xara made her guest appearance, striding onto the catwalk and proudly displaying her enormous breasts as they swelled alluringly out of her supportive bra. The shoulder straps carried the considerable weight of her boobs and the skilfully shaped cups moulded them into rounded, swaying spheres of seductive womanly flesh. The shear depth and prominence of her cleavage had the audience on their feet, distracted only by her equally-arresting firm, muscular legs that carried her purposefully onto the raised dais.

Unfortunately, this was my cue so I made my excuses at the table and slipped into Yellow where I slipped out of my Passionella Burgundy wear. I glanced at myself once more in the mirror to reaffirm my self-confidence and felt a light touch on my shoulder. It was Danielle who was to be my catwalk partner; she whispered a series of instructions in my ear and finally "give it all you've got." She then kissed me lightly on the neck.

The mix of chemicals that coursed through my veins and flooded into my head (arousal alloyed with adrenalin and a dash of assertiveness verging on a power-trip) buoyed me along as I strode onto the catwalk in just my black balcony bra, diminutive panties and high spike-heeled leather boots. My head swam as I soaked up the applause from the clients in such close proximity, who focussed a hundred or more eyes on my near-naked body.

I became breathtakingly aroused by the whole experience, which led me to walk and pose in ever more provocative ways. This brought further whoops and cries of approval from the gathered spectators who became my voyeurs, feasting their eyes on my body as I craved even more of their adoration. I cupped my hands under my breasts to lift them and draw attention to their shape then ran my fingertips down the shoulder straps and around the edges of the bra cups in a feigned attempt to keep the audience's eyes on the product rather than on me. I similarly ran my fingers along the narrow waist-ties of my panties, then hooked them inside and pulled them higher on my hips. My pussy twitched and contracted, flooding my panties with warm fluid as the narrow triangle of satin between my legs struggled to contain my swelling flesh. I was sure those sitting in the front row would be able to smell my scent but I unashamedly spread my legs wide apart and thrust my mound towards them. Several women reached out to try to touch my thighs but I backed away just out of their reach, shocked yet excited by the resultant feelings of power and control I could exert over them.

I noticed the gaze of the multitude of wide eyes divert away from me when, as arranged, Danielle joined me on the stage. Appreciative gasps and a ripple of applause rose up as she slipped off her long, demure white gown to expose the striking contrast of a black leather outfit into which her slender form was tightly squeezed. Her waist was pulled in sharply by a wide laced and buckled clincher and her small bare breasts were pushed upwards by a quarter-cup sling bra attached by double straps to a wide choker. Her nipples were exposed and they jutted forwards, confirming her obvious state of sexual excitement. A wide suspender traversed her tummy and supported opaque stockings whilst a skimpy leather thong struggled to conceal her outer labia.

Danielle ran her hands lightly over my arms, legs and body in a convincing act of lesbian seduction, arousing me and filling my head with barely-controllable animal desire. I felt my erect nipples press hard against the edge of my bra-cups as I stood to my full height and looked down on Danielle. She cowered as I mocked stern assertiveness and fell to her knees.

Deviating from our pre-arranged but unrehearsed act, I lifted one leg and placed my spike-heeled foot on Danielle's shoulder. She bowed down submissively and willingly; the assembled audience fell quiet. Only hushed whispers could be heard as she then bent forward and kissed the toe of my other boot.

I could hardly control myself as feelings of passion and power of an intensity that I'd never before experienced washed through me. I knew at that moment that I had found a new dimension to my sexuality. Success had bolstered my self-esteem, giving me the confidence to assert authority over others, and the feelings of power and control excited me more than I could have imagined. But I knew my compassionate nature would ensure that this power would never be misdirected. All I needed now was a willing partner who would derive as much enjoyment as I surely would from such a relationship.

Danielle stood up and took my hand, snapping me back to reality and leading me off the stage. I quickly changed into my next outfit, a very short leather dress with four narrow shoulder straps and suspenders attached to its lower edge to which I attached lace-top stockings, creating a tantalising contrast between the pretty hosiery and the harsh yet supple leather.

The next 30 minutes were a whirl of costume changes as the girls paraded ever more erotic outfits in front of the enthralled audience.

Helen looked exquisite, her slim body crushed in a tight red latex bustière that pulled in her waist and squeezed her lovely B-cup breasts together. Matching red latex panties rose high on her hips, accentuating her bum and pussy mound, and her firm upper thighs disappeared into long latex self-supporting stockings. I was next on and appreciated the help that my colleagues offered as I struggled into my cerise latex cat-suit.

As I stepped deliberately along the length of the catwalk I tried to concentrate on the audience, making eye contact with as many as possible and showing off the suit to best advantage. The aim of the show was, of course, primarily to demonstrate the new products and therefore increase sales. But my hormones had other plans. The feel of the taught latex against my skin and the heat from the lights caused me to perspire profusely. My sweat mixed with the talc and formed a slippery film between my first and second skins. As I walked, the latex slid over me and the feelings were unbelievable. I took longer strides and I twisted and contorted my torso to accentuate the sensations. I squeezed my thighs together to try to relieve some of the horny sensations in my pussy but this only made things worse. So I tried parting my legs wide and this just stretched the latex even tighter across my pussy.

There was a welded seam in the latex that was slightly thicker and tighter than the rest of the suit and it ran centrally down my belly and up between my arse-cheeks. This join worked its way into my gash and I could feel my lips open and slide against the latex either side as I moved. Instinctively I leaned back and thrust my pelvis forward. My smooth, bare mound slipped and slid over the latex that concealed it from the gaze of my appreciative audience.

Then, my sensitised clit made contact with the taut rubber seam, sending a sexual thunderbolt through my body. I grasped uncontrollably at my breasts, squeezing them and rubbing my palms over my erect nipples. I could feel them, and their hard metal adornments, through the suit and they grew larger and firmer against the latex under my hands. I rocked back and forwards, immersed in the gorgeous sensations of rubber rubbing over my engorged, tormented clit. My body ached for release as my cunt pulsed and released copious floods of lube that added to the sensual slippery sensations inside my rubber sheath. The tightness of the suit around my ribs, waist and legs left me short of breath and light-headed and also seemed to accentuate the flow of hot blood between my legs. I could easily have climaxed right there on the stage but through the fuzzy haze of my self-centred involvement I heard the music change to cue the finale.

I regained my composure and made a dignified if shaky exit, remembering I had a quick change to make and ran back to Yellow. Kirsten was waiting for me, holding my next outfit, and my special present. She helped me out of my catsuit and smiled at me as the complex aromas of the latex, my sweaty body and my aroused pussy mingled and filled the air.

Kirsten slipped the strap-in dildo into my wet and swollen cunt. It glided easily into my lubricated hole and Kirsten helped to tie the ribbon straps around my waist and thighs. I gasped with every small movement as I struggled into my brown lace-up corset and mermaid-tight skirt. The straps dragged the leather triangle across my ultra-sensitive clit and the dildo twisted inside my tortured tunnel each time I moved, until the tightness of the fully-fastened constricting skirt brought some welcome relief.

Kirsten held my hand to stop me from falling as we waited for Linda's announcement. On cue, Abigail, Maria & Stevie rushed in and the four girls picked me up and carried me on stage. We were all wearing outfits from the most risqué pinnacle of the new Pleasure In Control range and the audience gave us a standing ovation.

Abigail supported one of my shoulders. She was wearing a shiny patent leather corset with wide, prominent bright red lacing criss-crossing the front, with a matching ultra-short tight leather skirt. The top of the corset was cut wide over her chest and then dived up and back around her neck in a supporting halter. The effect was to lift her rounded heavy breasts, thrusting them together and forwards forming a deep, alluring cleavage. The red lacing was pulled tight, narrowing Abigail's waist and exaggerating the curves of her soft, voluptuous body. I put my arm around her and savoured the feel of the smooth, glossy leather that squeaked as it rubbed against my clothes.

Kirsten held my other shoulder. She was wearing a fantastic mid-grey latex outfit of corset top with several contrasting buckled straps across the front. The bottom edge splayed into wide suspender straps that supported matching grey latex stockings that encased her legs and left a little pale soft flesh exposed at the top. Deep matching panties concealed her belly and pussy and her arms were encased from wrist to shoulder in laced latex sheaths, like long gloves without hands. Her small breasts rose from the sculpted under-wired cups and I managed a quick peck as she leaned over me to support the weight of my head.

Maria slipped her arm under my waist, surprising me with her strength. She looked brilliant in matching black leather high-leg panties and a tight corset top with under-slung quarter-cups that lifted and parted her firm breasts, thrusting her bare mounds and exposed nipples outwards and forwards. Wide side straps terminated at an equally wide choker around her slender neck. I rested a free hand on her curvaceous hip and surreptitiously slid it down to rest on the leather-clad bum cheek.

Stevie took hold of my legs, sweeping me off my feet. She had her back to me and seemed to be wearing an all-in-one latex cat-suit not unlike the one I'd sweated in earlier, only black. I was puzzled why the same outfit should be included in the finale, and why it attracted whoops of delight and loud applause as she led the way onto the dais. But as Stevie carefully lowered me and my compatriots helped me onto my feet I could see why.

Stevie turned to face me and I immediately saw that the whole of the front of her body, from her neck right down her chest, her boobs, tummy and her entire smooth-shaven pubic region were bare and exposed, except for a criss-cross pattern of impossibly narrow lacing. This pulled together the remainder of the latex suit that in reality only covered her arms and legs and the sides of her torso, her back and her bum.

Kirsten and Abigail held my arms so I could keep my balance on my high spike heels as Stevie and Maria paraded their outfits in front of a rapturous audience. Then they took their places either side of me so Abigail and Kirsten could receive a similarly tumultuous reception. Then, right on cue, Stevie & Maria unzipped my skirt and the five of us all paced hand in hand up and down the length of the catwalk.

My beautifully decorated corset was very laced tight around my body and I had to take shallow breaths. To help me to breathe, I pressed my shoulders back and pushed my chest forwards. My boobs rose and inadvertently caused my decorated nipples to escape over the top edge of the brown leather that sought to restrain and conceal them. As I walked, they rubbed on the leather and the sensation made them erect and sensitive.

But lower down my pussy too was vying for my attention. Balanced precariously on my high heels, I forced myself to place one foot deliberately in front of the other and with each movement my strap-in dildo stimulated every fold, every corner and every nerve-ending of my hot, full and pulsating pussy.

I began to lose control and my surroundings became but a muffled distant blur. I focussed on the leather triangle that grazed over my protruding, eager clitoris and the twisting, probing sensations of the intrusive dildo held securely in my vagina.

I began to walk faster. The feelings intensified and I perfected a steady swaying rhythm that stimulated both my pussy and my nipples and I closed my eyes as my crescendo approached, and arrived.

I bit my bottom lip as I came, desperate to conceal my climax from the watching throng. But here, sitting close to me, were Passionella's most valued, most sexually active and most experienced clients and I surmised that they knew a woman in the throes of orgasm when they saw one. This only heightened the intensity and I could hardly stand up let alone walk. The volume of the applause increased and the girls either side tightened their grip to steady me as a flood of pleasure washed through me. I gasped quietly, my thigh muscles spasmed rhythmically and my knees went weak. I felt myself shake uncontrollably, my face flushed red and I breathed out a long satisfied sigh as a warm rush of pleasure and satisfaction flowed through me like a river tumbling agitatedly over rocks, then coursing more easily through a broader valley and finally reaching the wide, calm ocean.

I regained my composure just in time to take a breathless final bow, barely managing to keep my swollen breasts from completely spilling out of the top of my corset. The five of us left the stage and hugged and kissed each other as the adrenaline subsided and we heard Linda make her closing remarks, thanking everyone who had been involved and encouraging her clients to stay behind to try on the new products or to make private appointments for a future date. Kirsten asked me if I was OK and mopped the perspiration from my brow, then sank a long, slow passionate kiss full on my mouth.