Felicia's Rules

"Do you wish I would wear things like this more often? Dress in ways to excite you? It's okay to say yes."

There was a long pause. "Yes," he finally admitted.

I flashed him a playful smile. "I suspected as much. Now... what would you like me to do next?"

"Take off your pants," he whispered.

"Take off my pants?" I exclaimed in mock surprise. "Why would you want me to do a thing like that? To see my legs? Would that arouse you? Would having a good look at my bare legs turn you on?"

"Yes," he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

"Yes what?"

"I want to see them."

"Good. Then instruct me."

"Take off your pants," he repeated.

I put my hands on my hips and smirked. "You'll have to do better than that."

Mark thought for a moment, then said, "Undo your belt... unzip your fly... pull your jeans downslowly... all the way to your ankles... step out of them."

"Better," I nodded. I could feel him watching my dainty hands as they unbuckled my belt and undid the zipper. Then I pulled my jeans down ever so slowly, baring my legs to him inch by inch – first my slender thighs... then my knees... then my long calves... and finally my ankles. I stepped out of the jeans, kicked them to the side, and stood before him under those bright lights wearing nothing but a bra, panties, and high heels.

Mark's breathing quickened as his gaze travelled up and down my long legs – now more tanned and toned than they had ever looked before. For a moment, I felt my self-consciousness lift and was proud to show them off.

From a pause in his breathing, I could tell the exact moment Mark had noticed the white panties I had on. They were a terribly skimpy affair – little more than a triangle of fabric held there by string, so scant I felt essentially naked wearing them.

"I can tell you've noticed my new panties. I hope you like them." Mark could only gasp his approval. "I'd like to show you the back. May I?" Without waiting for his permission, I turned around.

"Uhhhh," he groaned as my bare rear end came into view, with nothing but a string up the middle for coverage. He'd never known me to wear a G-string in my life and the sight of it rightly shocked him.

"It's very racy," I noted innocently. "But it feels so good on my body. I think it makes my ass look great. Do you agree?"

"God..." he whispered, staring intently at the tightness of my butt.

"I guess that's a 'yes,'" I giggled, pleasantly surprised by his strong reaction. "It's embarrassing to have my rear so exposed. But exciting also. What should I do next?"

There was no hesitation this time. "Bend over."

"Bend over?" I repeated, trying to sound shocked. "And why should I do that for you? Will that give you a better view of my legs and ass? Would seeing me in such a compromising position excite you more? Is that what you're after?"

"Yes," he grunted.

"Yes what?"

Mark spoke in a raspy voice as though parched. "It would... turn me on."

"Would it now?" I smiled with a raised brow. "In that case, instruct me."

He took a deep breath. "Put your feet three feet apart... bend at the waist... all the way down... grab your ankles."

"You're getting the hang of this," I smiled before obediently doing as told. I placed my stilettoed feet wide apart, bent over, and reached for my ankles. I was limber enough to grab them easily without bending my knees at all. Now with my head hanging between my legs, I was free to look back at Mark's awe-struck face. He had never seen me from quite this angle before and its effect on his male mind was devastating. My long gams formed a gorgeous triangle, with my rear end as its pinnacle. I watched Mark's unblinking eyes focus on my right ankle, move slowly up the back of that leg, linger on my bare ass at the top, then descend just as slowly down the other leg. His open mouth and blank stare were all the encouragement I needed to stay down in this awkward position for as long as he wanted.

Finally, Mark reluctantly motioned for me stand. He leaned back in his chair, looking drained. "Do you need a moment?" I asked jokingly, though I soon realized that he did.

"Your bra..." he croaked after catching his breath. "Take it off."

"Take off my bra?" I gasped. "Is that what you're asking? But I got it special for you. Don't you like it?"

"Yes but—"

"I thought it was pretty," I sighed, looking downcast. "But I can take it off if you don't like it."

"No! I mean yes! I mean..." I giggled as he stammered. "I love it. But... take it off for me."

"But if I remove my bra, I'll betopless. Is that what you want? For me to go topless for you? So you can stare at my bare breasts? See how they look in this bright light? Will that arouse you?" He nodded timidly.

"Hmmm," I said pensively, as though giving his request deep thought. "Before I do something like that, I need to know that you are enjoying all this, that it's turning you on – because that is the whole and only point."

"I just told you—"

"I know what yousaid," I interjected, "but you could be lying just to spare my feelings. I need to see some physical proof." Mark looked confused, then mortified, as he realized what I was getting at. "Show me," I ordered, my voice imbued with authority. "Show me or the game ends here." I knew that ending the game at this point was the last thing Mark would want, and that would be my leverage. But his reserved nature was not going to make this easy for him.

"I thought you were supposed to take the orders," Mark feebly pointed out, "not give them."

"Nice try," said I. "But we are playing Felicia's rules right now. And what I say goes. Now are you going to show me or end the game?" After much reluctance, Mark let me come closer as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down a bit. Looming into my view was a long, hard shape that strained against his boxer-briefs, jutting straight out like a rigid tent pole.

"Oh my God," I shuddered. My surprise was genuine for I never expected to find him quite this hard, this early. I probably stared longer than I should have, turning his face a deep red. "I see you were telling the truth," I observed, quickly composing myself. His relief was palpable when I finally stepped back. "Don't be embarrassed. It pleases me immensely to see how turned on you are getting. And now, since you have been such a co-operative audience... instruct me."

"Reach back," he began, "unhook your bra... slowly slide the straps down over your shoulders... drop it on the floor."

I turned my back to him and pretended to fumble with the strap in the back for a while, relishing his every impatient groan as he watched my hands "struggle". Finally, I decided I had dragged it out long enough and heard the distinct creak of leather as Mark leaned forward in his chair at the exact moment the strap came loose. I slid one shoulder strap down over my right shoulder, then did the same with the left.

With the straps dangling, I kept holding the bra over myself... and in that position, I froze! An all-consuming fear had suddenly come over me, the fear of being totally exposed. I tried to face him but felt unable to move. In that moment, all the insecurities I had been repressing up to this point came raging to the surface. Chief among them was the true belief that my breasts were small. Pert and well-shaped, certainly, but they hardly even needed a bra to support them. This new bra made them appear larger than they really were. But once it was off... I wondered what Mark would think. I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest, my confidence bleeding away. Baring my breasts under lights this bright, with nothing left to hide behind – what was I thinking? Fortunately, the sound of Mark's stern voice kept me from dwelling on it much further.

"Turn around," he ordered. I swallowed hard and managed to face him – still covering myself with that loose bra in my hands, like a shy girl trying to retain her modesty until the last possible moment. "Drop your hands." I hesitated. He repeated the order more loudly. Finally, I just closed my eyes and obeyed.

"Uhhnnn..." he moaned as the bra fell away. I could feel my nipples quickly hardening as the cool night air hit my chest. It took every ounce of my courage to stand there, unmoving, arms hanging uselessly at my sides. By the time I opened my eyes again, Mark looked so horribly turned on that I hardly recognized him. I soon realized the reason for his amazement. My nipples were stiff and pointing straight out – the hardest I had seen them in a very long time.

I should mention that my nipples are the pointiest I've seen (Steph calls them a "freak of nature") and a source of much embarrassment on cold nights in thin T-shirts. But this moment more than made up for it. Seeing those nipples stiffen up and poke right out before his eyes was a spectacle I knew Mark would not soon forget.

"Your nipples," he managed to gasp. "They're so hard... that's incredible."

God, how he stared at them. He had that blank, open-mouthed expression that men get when their minds are too aroused to even think; but I'd never seen such a look directed at me before and certainly never from Mark. It took me a moment to regain my composure. "Do you like when my nipples point out like this?" I turned sideways to accentuate them. "Do they look better from this angle? How about this one?" I caressed one nipple with my finger, pushing it down and letting it pop back up, then did the same with the other. It seemed to be driving Mark out of his mind. "Do my hard nipples arouse you, Mark?" I persisted. "Does it turn you on? You're not answering me."

"Yes," he spoke in a husky voice.

"Yes what?"

"God, your tits make me so hard!"I was shocked. Never had Mark spoken to me like this before. And the breathy, desperate tone of his voice told me that every word of it was true. I felt my own spark of arousal being fanned into a flame but knew I must contain it. It was imperative that I remain in control for the game to progress as it should.

"I love to hear you say that," I encouraged him. "Why haven't you ever talked this way to me before?"

His feverish mind struggled to piece together an answer. "Because... I didn't think it was right, And... I've never seen you like this before. Acting so different. I didn't know you could be this way."

"It excites you to see this side of me?" He nodded. "Good. It turns me on to know how turned on I can make you."

For the first time since we started, Mark managed to tear his eyes away from me. "Go... go to the bathroom," he stuttered. "Get the bottle of massage oil in the cabinet... and return to your place."

This was unexpected. I walked to the bathroom, conscious of my bare breasts bouncing slightly in the cool night air, and found the bottle.

"Open it," said Mark as I resumed my place. "Pour some into your hand... rub it all over yourself." I unscrewed the cap, spilled a generous amount into my palm, and began oiling my long arms. The sweet smell of coconut began to rise from my body while the oil tingled and warmed my skin. Soon my upper body began to glisten and shine. As I reached my chest, I rubbed on the oil in a circular motion with both hands, from the outer edges of my breasts to the hard nipples in the middle. It felt so good, I began to massage them vigorously, helpfully leaning forward for Mark's closer inspection. He looked entranced, staring blankly at my glistening chest as though hypnotized. I probably could have massaged those breasts for hours and held his attention the entire time! Only when I stopped and heard him groan with disappointment was I assured that his brain was still functioning.

I turned around, bent over and began to work on my best feature: my legs. As I slathered the oil slowly up my right leg, I could see it helping to bring out every little curve and detail in my leg muscles as the bright lights reflected off them... turning my performance into a sensuous feast for the eyes.

Just then, I noticed something in the corner of my eye. Mark's right hand which had lain at his side this whole time was now resting on his inner thigh. By the time my right leg was done, his hand had slowly moved to his crotch. I started on my left leg as though I hadn't noticed anything. For a time, it seemed that his hand would move no more. But by the time the oil had reached my left thigh, I was hearing rubbing sounds behind me, like skin on fabric. My heart skipped a beat. Thinking quickly, I summoned up the most angry face I could, spun around, and glared at him.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" I demanded. His hand darted back to his side in a flash.

"What – what do you mean?" he asked, looking as guilty as a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You were supposed to just sit in that chair and do nothing. Absolutely nothing but watch. Those were the rules, if you recall. Were they not made clear to you?"

He swallowed hard. "They were but..."

"But you broke them anyway. Why?" He had no ready answer. "You couldn't control yourself? Was all this too much for you?" I crossed my arms as I scolded him. "This is a serious infraction, Mark. And according to the game, when one of the participants willfully violates a rule, the game must end."

Mark's guilty expression turned to one of panic. "No! I – I'm sorry! It won't happen again. Can't we continue?"

I softened a bit. "Well... you have been a very appreciative audience up to now. But if you wanted to do anything besides watch, all you had to do was ask my permission. If you ask for it now... Imayconsider continuing the game."

"Uh," mumbled Mark as he looked at the floor. "Okay. Could I... that is..." He didn't know quite how to put it. I grinned as he squirmed.

"Touch yourself?" I blurted shamelessly. "Is that what you're trying to say? You wish to masturbate as you watch me? Would that give you pleasure? To rub that hard-on in front of me?" I was relentless.

"Yes," he admitted, his face flushed with embarrassment. I felt almost sorry for him.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

The top of Mark's pants was still open so I stepped forward for another look. The bulge was even larger now, visibly throbbing and stretching his underpants at the seams. "Oh, God," I whimpered. "I've never seen you this hard before. Why didn't you tell me it had gotten this bad? God, that looks almost painful." The fact that my shiny breasts were now dangling right in his face as I bent over him wasn't helping. "Well, you really should take care of that. All right, you have my permission. But you are not allowed to come yet – not until I say. Agreed?" Mark nodded, though with little choice. I stepped back into place.

Now Mark was leering at my panties – the one pesky piece of clothing that still lay between him and a completely unobscured view of my body. His next order was no surprise.

"Take off your panties."

I raised my hand to my mouth. "But this is all I'm wearing. Without it, I'd benaked. Is that what you want? To see me naked? To stand here in the nude for you, with not a stitch of clothing on? So you can look over every inch of me, with nothing in the way?"

"Yes," was his whispered reply. "I need to see you. All of you."

"And just what would you do for such a rare viewing?"

"Anything," he gasped.

I was immensely pleased. "Excellent. It arouses me to know how much power I can have over you."

But my outward display of power belied an inner fear. The game had gone exceedingly well up to now. Though Mark was ostensibly in charge and giving the orders, each order I obeyed had put him more and more under my spell. The more clothing I shed, the more empowered I felt as I witnessed his desire intensify. But what would happen once the last piece of clothing was gone? All secrets would be known, the mystery revealed, and every flaw laid bare to his critical eye. There would be nothing left for him to imagine. And wasn't seduction based more on imagination than reality? Mark would see all of me for the very first time. And though I knew he would accept me no matter what, I also knew some of my feminine mystique would be lost forever. This made what I was about to do one of the bravest moments of my life.

"Slip your thumbs under the waistband," Mark instructed. (He called it a "waistband," though it was more accurately a piece of string.) "Slide your panties down your legs... all the way to the floor... and step out of them."

Turning my back to him, I put my thumbs under the flimsy elastic at my waist. Then I bent way down, causing a long groan to escape Mark's lips, and set those panties on their long journey down my legs. When they reached the floor, I stepped out of them but didn't turn around. That G-string looked so tiny lying there at my feet that I could scarcely believe it had been virtually the only thing covering me for the last several minutes.

"Take your shoes off, too," Mark added. I preferred to keep them on but dared not refuse his order. I slipped out of the heels and set my bare feet down on the cold wooden floor, suddenly feeling about a foot shorter. "And your watch," Mark continued. I'd forgotten I was even wearing one. I removed it and set it gently on the floor. I was now completely stark naked in the middle of the living room and the sensation of it thrilled me. Though I couldn't see Mark, I knew he must be busy enjoying his first view of my naked backside. Moments later, he spoke again. "Turn around."

This was it. I willed the butterflies from my stomach, swallowed hard... and courageously turned to face him.

Mark gasped loudly as my moist, neatly-trimmed body hair came into view. His eyes locked onto that thin sliver of brown hair down there as though drawn to a magnet. My cheeks reddened as I prayed he would fail to notice how embarrassingly wet I had become. Finally, and with great effort, he raised his eyes to look the rest of me up and down.

I lifted my arms, raised myself on my tiptoes, and turned for him slowly. Mark's eyes eagerly explored every inch of my body, drinking it all in. He looked almost in agony, as though seeing me all at once were too much to bear, like gazing too long at the sun. He was seeing parts of me he'd never seen clearly before except perhaps in his most torrid wet dreams. All my shame and self-consciousness evaporated like fog before sunshine as I basked in the attention Mark lavished upon me. He was the voyeur and I his willing object of worship. I had never felt so appreciated or so gorgeous in my life.

And like an adolescent boy glimpsing his first naked woman, Mark couldn't resist the urge to plunge his hand deep into his boxer-briefs and stroke eagerly up and down. I felt compelled to watch as he settled into a hypnotically rhythmic pace. His technique looked well practiced and I felt the rush of witnessing something from Mark's secret life coming out into the open. Was this how he liked to handle himself in private? It took some effort to tear my eyes away and keep my distracted mind on the game.

As I stepped back, allowing him to better fit all of me into his field of view, Mark noticed something. "Yourtan," he exclaimed in shock. I laughed. I'd been wondering when he would finally notice my curious lack of tan lines. The rich hue that covered me like a layer of liquid bronze was a sight to behold.

"Steph and I went to this beach," I explained slowly. "A nude beach."

Mark was floored. "You lay outside... with nothing on?" Such an act was totally out of character for me.

"We both did." I could imagine the kind of images now racing through his mind. "Are you picturing me and her lying together? Stripping off our tops and bottoms? Rubbing oil on each other's nude bodies? Giving the men and boys all around us hard-ons? Does thinking about it give you a hard-on as well? It's okay to say yes."