Tease to Please Ch. 05byinkyscandal©
NB: There is female masturbation, nudity, exhibitionism, clit jewelry and a whole lot of teasing in the initial five chapters of this story. My goal has been to develop sexual tension & characters. Explicit sex (hooray!) will follow in chapters 6 & up, which should benefit from all this groundwork. So, please read all the chapters in sequence if you can. The slow build will be worth your time! ;-)
Chapter 6 will appear in the "Erotic Couplings" category, for obvious reasons.
I welcome your comments and advice. Thanks for reading & enjoy!
Chapter Five: Thursday June 6, 2013
Elise awoke to the soft chime of her smartphone's alarm. She felt exhausted. Sleeping on her friend's sofa was turning out to be less than ideal. Not only did it feel suspiciously unclean, but the cushions were too soft and saggy in the middle. The strain this caused on her spine had accumulated over the past five nights to the point where she woke up stiff and sore. Her new belly chain only made matters worse.
More than that, however, her over-active imagination had kept her awake most of the night. She couldn't stop thinking about her impending appointment with Doctor Yamamoto.
Elise rose and padded to the apartment's sole bathroom. She twisted the shower faucet and sat on the toilet to pee while waiting for the hot water to arrive.
Was it really possible, she wondered, that the Japanese doctor intended to give her (or loan her, who knew?), one of those weird Model O devices; a so-called 'clit clock?'
The fact that he had discovered her masturbating, mid-orgasm, in the lab's upstairs restroom was bad enough. But that his first instinct had been to search-out that business card for her and write the model name on the back was worse. The way he had pointed at the card and then at her with that creepy smile of his... the only possible explanation was that he thought she was some sort of depraved masturbation addict who needed the Model O as a form of treatment. He was a doctor after all, Elise reminded herself. It was probably his first instinct to see anything unusual as a disease in need of treatment. That was why he had given her the waist chain; to cure what he saw as her 'lazy' posture.
Elise stripped and stepped into the grimy clawfoot tub. She massaged conditioner into her long hair and let the shower's hot rain ease the stiffness out of her back. Her mind wandered as she continued to clean her body with soap.
The belly chain was one thing. It might actually be doing her some good, Elise reflected as she ran her soapy fingers beneath it. It constantly reminded her to stand up straight. She could tell already that it was making her look taller and more slim-waisted. But prescribing something for her clitoris was a whole different level of weird (not mention hugely inappropriate) presumptuousness.
Elise looked down as she scrubbed her pubic mound with two soapy hands. She liked keeping the entire area around her labia and clit free of hair. It just felt better and softer that way. A postage-stamp sized square was all that remained of her dark pubic hair after her most recent bikini wax. It didn't start until a full inch above the top of her clit's hood. She always got it waxed like that, and she always kept her remaining hair scissored ruthlessly short, too.
The idea that Doctor Yamamoto wanted to slip a donut-shaped metal collar around her clit (and what other possible method of attachment could there be, she wondered) was terrifying. She could not imagine what it would do to her, but all those internal clockwork gears and springs must have a purpose... especially at such an extravagant price.
Elise cleaned her skin from head to toe and then rinsed the conditioner from her hair.
She could not bring herself to abandon the internship. That would mean moving back home. No; she had to catch her train this morning and go to the lab just like everything was normal. Whatever consequences were coming her way, she would deal with them when they arrived. Maybe this whole 'clit clock' thing was all just a big misunderstanding.
She hoped so.
By 8:30AM Elise was pouring two mugs of coffee in the lab's shared kitchen. She had feigned surprise when Doctor Peters told her that Doctor Yamamoto expected her to do rounds upstairs at nine. She had already known that, of course. But Doctor Peters had no idea about her 2nd encounter upstairs with Doctor Yamamoto the prior afternoon and Elise certainly did not want to enlighten him.
Elise sucked down her mug of coffee as quickly as she could after delivering the other one to Doctor Peters. Then she stepped into the big closet to change.
She had brought a dress from home today in order to avoid any surprises the clothes at the office might have in store for her. It was a little cocktail dress that Doctor Peters had approved via webcam before her move from Arizona. It was made of linen, light coral in color, and had a flattering halter-top that showed off her shoulder-blades. Its hemline was pretty short, but nothing like the things she had been wearing the past three days. She needed to play it safe given what she feared was about to happen.
With the closet door shut behind her, Elise stripped down to her underwear and bra. Then she slipped the linen minidress over her head. Once it fell into position she reached around and pulled the back-zipper up as far as she could. Thankfully her thin belly chain was indiscernible beneath it. She loved how the color of this dress had faded to a very pale coral pink. It brought out the warmth in her auburn hair. She also thought it would go perfectly with the light pink ankle-strap heels.
Before she could put on those shoes, however, she needed to some stockings. Since her dress was a solid, she decided to wear one of the striped pairs of thigh-highs to conform to the candystriper aesthetic Doctor Yamamoto expected. She selected a pair that had alternating inch-wide vertical stripes of white and sheer.
"Ridiculous... yet perfect," Elise teased herself. She was feeling punchier than usual as the caffeine took effect.
She pulled on the tall, striped stockings and then stepped up onto her four-inch-high sandals. Within a few minutes, she was back out in the office standing next to Doctor Peters' desk asking him to do her dress' zipper up the rest of the way. Then it was just a matter of brushing her hair, tying a ribbon through it, donning some earrings and checking her makeup.
With ten minutes to spare, she was ready.
"Doctor Peters, how do I look?" Elise asked, standing in front of her desk.
"Lovely," Arthur answered. "Now, as soon as you get back from upstairs I need you to get cracking on those spreadsheets, alright?"
"Yes, I will."
"I don't understand why you weren't able to finish them yesterday afternoon, in all that time you spent on the computer."
Elise's mood ebbed a bit. "Sorry Doctor Peters. I'll get them done as soon as I get back."
"Great. Then you can finish reorganizing this bookcase up here."
"Sure. I should be able to get that finished for you before the end of the day."
Elise felt more than her usual level of unease creeping in. She had no idea what the next hour with Doctor Yamamoto was going to bring, but she was pretty sure it was going to involve exposing her clitoris. That was disturbing on a number of levels. The mere fact that she had considered the man's predilection for stripes when choosing her thong panties this morning was stomach-churning enough. The idea of removing those panties for him was downright awful. She hoped it would not come to that.
Precisely at nine o'clock, Doctor Yamamoto appeared at the door. Elise followed him upstairs.
There was no pretense of an educational tour this time. He led Elise straight to his private office and shut the door. Then he lowered all the blinds. Elise felt her stomach do a backflip.
Doctor Yamamoto held out his hand and stared at her expectantly.
"Oh, right," Elise mumbled, "The card. I did bring it. I thought you might want it back."
Elise dug the Japanese watch company's little embossed card out from under her bra where she had hidden it that morning. She held it out to him with both hands.
Doctor Yamamoto gave her the slightest of smiles as he took back the card.
There were two white bath towels folded neatly in the middle of Doctor Yamamoto's desk. Presently he lifted one of them and shook it open. He draped the towel over his wide leather office chair. Then, without further explanation, he gestured for Elise to sit down, in his chair, on the towel.
"Oh Christ this is really happening!" Elise realized in panic. She had gone through all the scenarios in her head overnight, but this was always the worst case. She didn't think he would be this bold.
Doctor Yamamoto was insistent.
With reluctant obedience Elise approached the chair and sat down. Given their language barrier and her desire to keep the inscrutable doctor quiet about her recreational use of the company's restroom, she felt disinclined to resist.
Elise made herself as comfortable as possible in the big chair. She had to admit that there was an aspect of her libido, at least subconsciously, that had become intrigued.
"Maybe he knows what he's doing," her most optimistic mental coping mechanism suggested. He had been right about her waist chain, after all. And she couldn't imagine that he would do anything to hurt her.
Doctor Yamamoto presented Elise with a wooden box. It was beautifully made and quite heavy for its size. When she opened the hinged lid, her eyes beheld a magnificently shiny torus: the Model O.
It was smaller than she had expected. Doctor Yamamoto lifted it from its velvet enclosure and placed it in her palm. She noticed its heft. It felt expensive. Elise was momentarily mesmerized by its jewel-like beauty.
Doctor Yamamoto set the wooden box on his desk and removed a portion of its velvet lining. From underneath he extracted a plastic case containing a small tool-kit that would help with the application of the clit clock. He opened the case and set it down on the nearside edge of his desk. Then he reached over to a mini-fridge hidden beneath his built-in credenza and retrieved a small bowl containing ice cubes wrapped in white cotton. He set the bowl on his desk too. Then he slipped on pair of nitrile gloves, snapping them loudly against his wrists.
Doctor Yamamoto dragged a small ottoman over and sat upon it right in front of Elise's knees. He motioned for her to raise the hem of her dress.
This was a turning point, Elise knew. She had been rolling the Model O over and over in her hand, forestalling this moment of consent. Doctor Yamamoto's face remained cool and impassive as he waited. Somehow this made Elise feel a fraction more comfortable. She handed him back the toroid device and shimmied her linen dress upward until it was gathered around her waist.
Doctor Yamamoto set the Model O aside and then, without ceremony, reached for Elise's hips with both hands and pulled her panties out from under her. He slid them all the way down her legs and off her shoes. He then passed the tiny striped thong back to her, dangling it from his fingertips. As soon as Elise took it from his hand, he scooped up her feet and used them to push her knees way back toward her face. He held her there by the feet, waiting for her to take hold of her legs herself.
Elise grabbed the backs of her knees. Doctor Yamamoto immediately reached under her chair and pressed a lever that made the seat recline way back. Elise found herself with her feet in the air and her head hanging off the top of the headrest. Her naked vagina was upturned toward Doctor Yamamoto's mustachioed face.
He adjusted his round eyeglass and stared at her crotch. Wordlessly, he nudged her to spread her legs father apart. Elise stared down between her thighs at him, wide-eyed. No one in her entire adult life, not even her gynecologist, had ever maintained such a dispassionate facial expression while looking at her naked sex. She could not imagine how she had ever gotten herself into this situation.
Doctor Yamamoto selected one of the cotton-wrapped ice cubes from the bowl with a gloved hand and delicately placed it atop Elise's clit.
"Oh my God that's cold!" Elise squealed aloud.
Doctor Yamamoto held a finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet while he rubbed the ice cube back and forth.
Elise clenched her teeth and whined, trying as hard as she could not to beg him to stop. It felt so cold!
As the ice gradually melted, drops of nearly-freezing water trickled down Elise's labia to her anus. It was more ticklish than a feather, yet somehow completely non-sexual. Elise felt caught between two sharply conflicting stimuli, unable to respond to either.
Doctor Yamamoto transferred ice-rubbing duties to his left hand and with his right fingers fished out a small white crown of woven thread from the Model O's accessory case. He lifted the ice occasionally, checking on the status of her rapidly-shrinking clitoris. When he saw that her little pink nub had become almost entirely drained of bloodflow, he dropped the ice back into the bowl and quickly looped the crown of string around her clit. As Elise watched from above, he carefully worked the mesh ring down around the neck of her clit like a collar until it was snug against the interior of her clitoral hood with the bulb of her clit entirely through it. Then he carefully plucked one tiny knotted thread out from the circle and gave it an upward tug. As he pulled the little drawstring, the basket-weave collar lengthened and tightened, squeezing around the neck of her clit like a Chinese finger-trap. Each time he tugged upward on the thread, the mesh tube grew taller and thinner, swallowing her clit from below.
It did not hurt, Elise noted with some amazement as she watched her clit being temporarily transformed from a knotty round nub into a narrow column. It simply felt tight. Only at the very last moment, when the distended tip of her clit was about to be cinched into the tube, did it pinch. Doctor Yamamoto gave the tiny drawstring one last tug and her clit disappeared, sheathed entirely within an inch-tall fishnet tube.
Elise squirmed involuntarily on the chair. She breathed through her teeth in a panting whine.
Doctor Yamamoto worked quickly. He grabbed the model O, threaded the taut drawstring through its central hole and dabbed some lubricant beneath it. Then with a gentle, incremental motion he eased the metal donut down around her laced-up clit until it lay flat against her pubic bone.
Elise began to writhe. It was not the device that hurt. She did not even feel the Model O being slipped on. It was the damn basket-weave collar that had distorted the end of her sensitive clit into a tiny tower that felt like torture.
Her moment of relief came quickly. Doctor Yamamoto grabbed a miniscule round-tipped pair of scissors from the case, slid them beneath a critical strand of the net collar and snipped. The latticework strings burst apart, immediately disintegrating into a dozen loose strands.
Elise let out a big sigh of relief and looked down. Doctor Yamamoto held the Model O flat against her, waiting as bloodflow reflated her clit. He plucked stray cotton threads out from under the Model O. Elise's clit quickly returned to its normal size and shape.
Normal, that is, except that the head of her clit was encircled by a shiny round collar.
"Jesus," Elise whispered.
She was in no pain. There had been no piercing or other skin damage. It was, she considered, a remarkably clever design. So long as her clit remained normal-sized, the collar could not fall off. It would just hang there. And when her clit was stimulated and therefore engorged, she imagined, the smooth weighted donut would probably feel wonderful... like an extra set of fingers.
Doctor Yamamoto gently wiped her pubic area with a moist towelette to remove any leftover lubricant or frayed thread. Then he dried her off with the remaining bath towel. Finally, he gave the torus a gentle tug, testing the security of its installation. The fat bulb of Elise's clit held it firmly in place. Without another ice cube and another thread finger-trap, the Model O wasn't going anywhere. He stood and removed his gloves.
Elise up-righted herself in the chair and rolled it backwards until she had enough room to stand. She rose slowly and took a few tentative steps around the room in her tall heels.
To her surprise, the effect of the Model O was very subtle. It simply made her clit feel heavy. It shook when she walked.
Doctor Yamamoto seemed pleased with himself. His face was relaxed as he cleaned all the accoutrements from his desk and folded the two white towels.
Elise slipped her thong underwear back on and snugged them up against her new toy. Having panties on, she noticed as she took a few more exploratory strides around the room, lessened the tugging of the Model O on her clit. But each footfall still had an impact. Like her belly chain, the device served as an ever-present reminder. It gave her clit a voice.
Unbeknownst to Elise, this metaphor was quite apt. The reason the Model O was so expensive, aside from the labor involved in its tiny handmade internal movement, was that its white gold exterior shell was precisely machined to achieve harmonic resonance. Like a tuning fork, it would ring when struck. The little hammer-like component she had seen in the interior schematics the night before was weighted precisely for this purpose. The device's mainspring was self-winding, using a ratcheting counterweight similar to those in automatic wristwatches. But with no watch hands to drive, all its stored energy could be allotted to dinging the metal striker against the exterior case of the torus. It did so in a series of twelve chimes whenever the mainspring became fully wound. This resulted in a bell-like vibration designed to be enjoyable for the wearer.
Normal activity levels, like walking, would typically result in a twelve-strike chiming every fifteen minutes or so, depending on how active the wearer was. Low activity levels, such as sleeping or driving, allowed the device to remain inert. High activity levels, like jogging or vigorous sex, could keep the device chiming every minute.
Doctor Yamamoto opened the door of his office and escorted Elise to the top of the stairs. Elise felt a huge wave of relief wash over her as she tiptoed down the concrete steps in her high heels.
"That wasn't so bad," she thought. "This thing feels kinda cool."
Each footfall in her strappy shoes pleasantly shook her collared clit. It was subtle enough that she felt she could probably ignore it if she tried, but at the same time it was gently exciting. It felt sexy. It felt mischievous. It felt like she was getting away with something.
Elise made it all the way back to her desk and sat down. Doctor Peters remarked that her upstairs visit had been brief. She smiled contentedly in reply as she opened the spreadsheets he expected her to complete this morning. She felt the tension ease from her shoulders as the anxiety she had been carrying around evaporated.
"Now I can get back to work," she told herself.
Beneath Elise's striped thong, the mainspring of the Model O was almost fully wound. Having been turned over and over in Elise's hand while she nervously waited for Doctor Yamamoto to finish his preparations and then banged down the concrete stairs and hallways that led back to her desk, it had swung its tiny ratcheting counterweight back and forth so many times that just a few more movements would set off Elise's first chiming.
"I'm all done!" Elise declared proudly from her desk forty five minutes later.
"Great," answered Doctor Peters. "Can you email them to me so I can save them to the network?"