Sapphic Nylon Enthrallment

In a moment Charlotte returned, humming a tune and grinning, her hands behind her back. "Close your eyes, dear, and I'll give you what you want."

Marnie was in no mood for games, but she was willing to play around just this once in order to get the pussy-warping hosiery. She shut her eyelids and just listened.

"Click." Metal clamped one wrist to the arm of the chair, and her eyes snapped open in surprise just as a cuff closed against the other wrist, too.

"What the...? Char, what are you doing?" Fear clenched around her innards. How well did she know this woman, anyway?

Charlotte giggled evilly. "Just a precaution, honey."

"Cut this shit out and unlock me right now. This is not fucking funny."

"Don't worry, I promise nothing will happen to you... well, not unwillingly. I just wanted you to stay and hear what I have to say."

"Unlock me now."

"You're really in no place to argue, Marnie. Listen, I just..."

"When I start screaming, someone's going to call the police." Except that the nearest house was rather far away. Marnie assumed she would probably be terrified if indignation had not already taken the reins.

"Gosh, I hope not. That would spoil the whole plan." She looked at the huffing and puffing "guest" and evidently decided not to let her blow the whole house down. "I can see we'll need an alternative way of going about this." She grabbed a familiar-looking package from the coffee table and tore it open, sliding the ClassyLady hose out with a flourish. "Remember why you're here?"

"Because you're a nutcase?" Despite her bravado, she was a bit distracted when she saw the objects of her desire.

"Mmmm... possibly. But I don't think," she replied, "that's the entire reason." She slid her hand elbow-deep into one of the brand-new nylons, staring at the way it tinted her palm and fingers. "I think you might have come for this." Charlotte started walking around the chair, careful to stay out of reach of any kicking from Marnie's feet.

"Yes... And you needed to tie me up to give them to me, why exact--ly?" Marnie's voice had gone from hysteria to softness on the last syllable because the hose-covered hand had made its way across her blouse's neckline and she'd lost focus at the sensation.

"There, see, I knew how to calm you down," came the voice in her ear, and she turned her head to find Char's face far too close to her own. The stroking continued, though, from her collarbone, up her neck, and caressing her chin. She bit down on a sigh. "Now, let's take this nice and slow, kiddo. I'm going to take your shoes off and put these on your legs, okay?"

"Ok-- What?" She had a disturbing feeling what this was about. "Listen, Char, I don't know what kind of person you--"

"Shhhhhhhh..." was the reply, and though Marnie had every opportunity to fight her off the prospect of the stockings on her legs now-- not having to wait any longer for the delight-- made knees loosen and feet lay passive as the other woman kneeled down in front of her and removed her pumps.

There was a sharp intake of breath as the bunched up wisp of cloth in Charlotte's hands touched Marnie's toes, then crossed her heel and continued upward. The fabric limned her flesh as it rose past ankle and caressed calf, and as the slight stretch to it imparted by the slow feminine hands pulled it tight against her skin, all the sensual sparkles she'd missed for weeks reappeared.

Charlotte surprised her by putting her shoe back on at this point, but it kept the nylon taut and the pressure it applied to her soles and heels only brought the tingling down there too. "Mmmmm..." she emitted before she could stifle it. She'd not tried that before with Special Blend. It was different from barefoot; she had not decided yet on "better". She had little time to contemplate it before the hosiery had reached her knee and turned the well-formed bend. Charlotte paused, looked up at her, and began hiking up the offensive skirt in the way of progress.

Despite the nipple-crunching feelings proliferating in her body right now, Marnie was about to object. To offer to do it herself: she wouldn't leave, just please, don't...

The option was taken away from her brain when Charlotte leaned in, her stockinged upper thigh making the barest contact with Marnie's coated knee. "Omigod!" both women moaned in chorus, though it appeared to Marnie that Char was surprised more by the intensity of the sensation than by its presence. From toe to knee, Marnie's leg was engulfed in flames of pleasure, and it felt in the strangest way that she could feel the other woman's leg from thigh on downward as well. Her legs fell askew as she tried to absorb the impact up her spinal cord, and she panted, "What was...?

"That?" Charlotte recovered and took advantage of the parted thighs to resume easing the stocking upward again. "I have no idea, but I want to feel it again. Don't you?"

"God, yes! I mean..." Charlotte had pulled a rudimentary garter-belt from somewhere behind her and begun to fasten it around Marnie's hips. It wasn't more than a waistband and a couple of dangling straps, really; wasn't lacy or satiny or sexy in any way, and since it was over Marnie's clothes it bunched up her skirt absurdly. But it served the intended purpose: it kept the Special Blend stocking from falling and gave Char the opportunity to run her finger up the nylon seam and smooth the wrinkles. She might as well have been running her fingers up Marnie's pussy seam for the effect it had; her already dampened panties were now hopelessly soggy from this treatment.

It was time for the other leg, now, Marnie expected, and she awaited it with more zeal than she'd had opposition on the first one. Charlotte, however, stood up and put her hands on her hips.

"What?" Marnie whimpered. "You're not finished...?"

The other woman smiled, her eyes glinting. "That depends."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't give you the stockings without payment."

"Payment?" She chuckled insanely. "Do you take Visa?"

"That's not what I meant," the redhead breathed, and suddenly the passion-blurred events of the last ten minutes came into sharp focus for Marnie.

"Charlotte, I'm flattered, really, and, don't get me wrong, you... um... give good leg. But that's-- I mean... can't we just rub up against each other?" It came out whinier than she'd intended.

The laughter was loud in response, and nearly derisive. "Oh, no you don't, honey! Trying to distract me with the leg-to-leg contact thing's not gonna work. I've been imagining doing this to a girl for weeks, now, and it's going to go my way. Not yours."

"But--"

"No, baby. The nylons are astounding, and I'll never give them up, but for me to give you the stockings, you'll need to provide the main course. Or devour it, rather. Otherwise..." She reached down to the garter-clip as if to unfasten it.

"I--"

"Have you ever eaten pussy before?"

"No!"

"No? Because you seem like you'd be a natural." Charlotte fell into Jimi Hendrix cadences. "Tell me, are you a cuntlicker? Have you ever been a cuntlicker? I have..."

"Charlotte, stop--"

Char switched to McCarthyism as she stepped closer. "Are you or have you ever been a member of a yummyclit party?"

If I eat you out will you stop with the awful quotations? Marnie did not say. Could not bring herself to say, because it sounded too much like concession. And no matter how horny she was, how horny Charlotte had made her, that was a step over the line into a realm Marnie had no interest in being a part of.

As if reading her thoughts, Char responded. "You've already crossed the line, sweetie. You're going to eat my cunt, and you're going to love it. The taste of my pussy is going to turn you on from now on because you're going to remember how I made you do it, and how much you didn't want to, really... but how you couldn't resist me. Those were my hands putting the nylons on your thighs. And I know how wet that made you, because I can smell you all the way over here. And you smell," she growled, "very, very scrumptious."

It had been a long time since someone... anyone... had called her "scrumptious". She felt her resolve weakening, and when Char ran the tips of her nails up the fabric of the stockings and her pussy heated in response she knew she was lost. Now the other woman's hose had made contact with her own once more and her jaw slackened and eyes rolled back. "What... whatever you want to do to me. Just..."

"Yessss?" she hissed, her breath on Marnie's neck.

"Just, please, put on the other stocking first?"

The second nylon went on fast; Charlotte did not take the relish in her task this time that she had at the first because she had an agenda. Every second spent smoothing nylon meant one in which Marnie's face was not between her thighs, and Marnie was acutely aware of the rush and the reason for it. The aggressor didn't even bother with the handcuffs; she left the positioning intact, placed one high-heeled slipper on each arm of the chair, and lowered her saturated sex down onto the face of her victim.

Had Marnie not been melting into the seat from her own hose-clad sensuality it might have been an awkward position, but by gripping the back of the chair Charlotte was able to get leverage to smear Marnie's nose, chin, and cheeks with enough tangy juice to make the experience a well-lubricated one.

Marnie, for her part, was thrilled enough with the long-missed tingles up and down her legs that she rewarded the fragrant snatch (cinnamony!) with a tonguing that made up in enthusiasm what it lacked in practice. Her own cunt seemed to respond sympathetically to the other woman's obvious pleasure, and it helped immensely that she was scissoring her thighs together in the masturbatory way she'd grown accustomed to in the weeks following her discovery of Special Blend. When Char finally cried out and nearly smothered her in reflexive motion, Marnie was unsure whether it was the lack of oxygen or her own rabid climax which left her light-headed.

She did know that when Char slid down her body and penetrated her girl-soiled mouth with a questing tongue, the only thing which kept her from unconsciousness was the fact that the women's legs now intertwined, and both women jerked and stared into each other's eyes in shock at how it felt. "Uhmagod..." Marnie groaned incoherently and with a barely-functional jaw. "'s two."

"It's four," corrected Charlotte from behind suddenly-lidded eyes. "I can feel yours, too."

"I can't... I have to..."

"I know. I will." And the women's legs now slid against each other in a riotous dance. Each sought to touch and be touched at all angles, across the entire surface area of calf, knee, thigh... Each felt the other's sensations. They frequently brushed cunt against cunt, but clitoral stimulation seemed secondary in the face of this sensory onslaught. They came, together, in a jumbled mass of limbs that only untangled once both massive orgasms had faded and sleep had taken them.

When Marnie awoke alone on what she assumed was Charlotte's bed, her wrists had been bandaged where they'd bled into the handcuffs during her exertions. Her face still smelled of woman, but she found she didn't mind at all... as though neurons had been retasked in some ultra-Pavlovian meld of scent and climax. She relived the experience mentally and, as her new coffee-toned stockings were still on and beautifully intact, she spent the next half-hour sliding them together and squeezing her fist against her clit again at the remembrance.

That's how Charlotte found her when she returned from the store, and it was a mark of forgiveness that Marnie only demanded two orgasms fucking the other woman's face before they progressed to their nylon-serpentined tribadism.

* * *

It had been a dry month. Or a very wet month, depending on how you looked at it.

At the beginning, some of the other women were still wearing, just in longer skirts to conceal any runs. But they weren't fooling anyone: aside from the gals who'd moved to boots, any briefly-revealed ankle demonstrated with its Cuban heel and stitching exactly what they were coated with. And what feelings must be prancing their way up from toe-tip to thigh (and beyond). Marnie seethed; catfighting them all to get another pair was sounding more and more enticing all the time (and if her slit was becoming more and more slippery at that particular imagery, that was her own personal, private business).

Even Charlotte, who always seemed to have a secret stockpile, was eventually out, and no amount of licking her snatch was impelling her to reveal a hidden stash. Marnie believed her claims, as she knew Char would have invited her over for another "payment" session. Wearing them was intensely pleasurable, but in that absence merely running her own body over another woman wearing them was a close substitute. She could tell Charlotte got more out of it than she did when Marnie ran her hands, thighs, and tits up and down the other woman's nylon-clad legs before burying her face in cunt, but she couldn't resist the opportunity.

But even that was denied her, and Charlotte was starting to look as desperate as the rest of them. Customers were freaking out at the shortage-- sending emails and phoning customer support with hysterical (and often non-financial) offers if somehow new Special Blend could be obtained. Tyler, witnessing this activity, doubled the price and negated the employee discount on that particular item, but the laws of supply and demand were not in effect in this matter. There were rumors he was going to raise the price further, and perhaps even ban employee purchase altogether during the shortage in order to retain customers; he likely didn't realize how close his female employees were to mutiny and how that would affect his prospects for escaping the premises in one piece. Something had to give.

Paulo and the other guys at Receiving wore expressions which were a combination of bemusement and frustration at the dolled-up ladies lined up at the docks waiting impatiently for the delivery trucks to arrive.

The teamsters unloaded what looked to be an immense wooden box from the latest truck, and when the manifest was handed to Paulo to sign off, he glanced unconsciously up at the line of women who appeared for all the world to be passing judgment on his competence, his manliness, and even his expected lifespan based solely on the contents of that piece of paper. Freddy the Forklifter (as he was affectionately known), moved the crate to the staging area nearby, and a couple of the other guys brought forth the requisite crowbars.

Charlotte put on a hard hat and tore the manifest from a sputtering Paulo's fist. She ignored his protests and, apparently finding what she wanted, ran over to the staging area. The other women, believing what they so desperately wanted to believe, followed her closely en masse as the men present looked on in wonderment.

"Oh, dear God," exclaimed Arkady as she opened the crate, and Marnie elbowed her way to the front of the group to see what the girl's fascinated horror implied.

Hundreds of packages of ClassyLady Special Blend lay in neatly ordered stacks, but atop them lay something else. A slightly different sized package, with contents that Marnie at first imagined were hosiery as well. Surely there was the same diaphanous silken veil of the ultra-thin nylon, and the seams traversing the... But wait a moment. The seam passed through twice, and formed an unmistakable outline-- and the length implied the elbow would be left far behind in favor of a tight fit at mid-bicep...

"Oh, dear God," Marnie echoed, her nipples already tightening into little buds and her knees slackening. "There are gloves, now."

* * *

ClassyLady was headquartered in a nondescript building in the small industrial section of town. A front office with a receptionist yielded the check of a list to see if Ms. Marnie Kandler had an appointment. And she did, in fact; once this was established, she was guided back to the proper office.

On her way, she caught a glimpse of a handful of office workers clustered around the water cooler. All women. All wearing. She wondered if there was a man in the entire premises... and if there was, what in the world he thought about this place. The receptionist introduced her to Penny, the CEO's personal secretary, and then went back to sit in the entry foyer.

"She's with Felicia right now, but their meeting should be done any moment. You can sit there and wait, dear." Penny only spoke like she was in her fifties. In actuality, she couldn't have been more than thirty-five. "Would you like a lemon drop or a jujube?"

"No, thanks," Marnie replied, and as the secretary went back to her typing, Marnie reviewed the completely blank page which was her "notes" for the meeting. The questions she needed to ask were too obvious to be written down, and the questions she wanted to ask she didn't dare. Before she could renew that old argument in her head, the door opened and out strode someone Marnie vaguely recalled from old newspaper photos she'd researched seemingly-ages back: Felicia Major. Co-founder, and chief scientist.

The company's Director of Research and Development had pretty features, but she exuded "ice maiden" like a perfume. Her hair was collected in a bun which emulated the stereotypical librarian, and the horn-rimmed glasses poised on her nose did nothing to dissipate this imagery. She wore a laboratory smock over her street clothes, but Marnie could see that her calves were unfettered by trousers, though certainly covered with the corporation's star product. Even ice maidens were not immune, evidently, and Felicia returned Marnie's brief visual evaluation with one of her own. Her eyes may or may not have traced the curves of Marnie's legs from ankles to knees, but either way Marnie pretended not to notice.

"Nice to meet you, Felicia. I'm Marnie Kandler, and I'm the new Commodity Specialist for the ClassyLady line at LingerieGlance."

The severe blonde did not shake her hand. "I liked Sylvia."

Sigh. Both Charlotte and Sylvia had been let go and had moved to Seattle. If she forced herself to be objective, Marnie couldn't fault Management: Tyler had opened the door of one of the meeting rooms and been struck by a wall of musk and the sight of both women caressing each other's legs with glove-coated hands. Which was admittedly unprofessional and crude but still might have been forgivable in this liberal day and age if it hadn't been for the fact that the women were inverted and had their heads buried in each other's skirts.

Some said Tyler had fired them, not for their indiscretions, but because they had refused to let him join in... but Marnie was of the opinion that unless they had twenty-dollar bills plastered all over their bodies the Old Man would fail to get aroused, even at an enticing sight like that. Certainly the going away party for both ladies, held privately, had been much more indiscreet, but there had been no men at all, let alone Tyler Rhaspid, on the invitation list.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I liked Sylvia, too." A lot. She could do amazing things with her tongue that even the enthusiastic Charlotte had never properly emulated.

"I'm sure that's why you have her job, now."

"If you liked her so much, why didn't you hire her?"

"I tried, but she offended Darlene." Felicia walked away, three-inch heels clacking on the tile; Marnie had been dismissed. Bitch.

"How does one do that?"

Penny had pointedly ignored the entire exchange, but realized she was being spoken to, now. "Hmmmm?"

"What do I do in order to avoid offending Darlene?"

Penny looked around furtively, as if she were under observation for attempting to give away corporate secrets. "Always dress nice, dear, that's the key. And do not use the word 'addiction' to describe the allure of any of our products. Not even as a joke."