Lucinda's New Life

She smiled indulgently. Peter couldn't be relied on to choose wallpaper or carpets or curtains or even her clothes -- he always chose things that weren't anywhere near revealing enough -- but in matters of business she knew when to take his advice.

It still annoyed her that the men on site didn't take her as seriously as they would have taken her father. She was every bit as able as him but for some reason they didn't realise this.

Perhaps her new name would help. She would get new business cards made up in the name of Cindy and would make them friendlier-looking too. Perhaps even a pretty pink colour - that would be nice.

She smiled when she imagined how pleased the site crew would be when they learned what she had always wanted to be called. There wasn't a site meeting today but she might just drop round anyway to let them know all about her decision.

They would respect her much more after that! If she was really lucky, Alan the gorgeous IT expert would be there too. He might even have stopped her laptop from flickering this time.

As she dressed carefully, straightening her stockings, clipping them into her new suspender belt and pulling her skin tight, low cut red top over her small breasts, Cindy felt strong and confident. She winced audibly as the gusset of her thong panties scraped against her sore, still-puffy vulva, but the thrill of remembering how she had acquired that particular injury left her with a warm glow in her tummy.

She wrapped the short kilted skirt around her waist, making sure that her stocking tops could be seen when she bent over then slipped her highest black heels onto her dainty feet and looked in the mirror.

No woman had ever looked more business-like and professional. A quick brush of her hair and she would be fit for the cover of Forbes Magazine.

A knock at the door told her that Richard and the limousine were ready to take her to work. She picked up her large handbag -- a briefcase was simply too alienating -- and, brimming with confidence, crossed to the door.

Tuesday 14th July

The sun was fairly high in the sky as Cindy sat on the stool in front of her dressing table, pulled on the second of her fish-net stockings and smoothed it along her thigh with her palms. She loved the way they made her legs feel and longed to have her gorgeous husband's hands in the places her own fingers now touched.

She had missed him so badly the previous night. They had spoken on their mobiles in bed for a long time. He had asked her all about her day and how the meeting had gone. She had told him about her new work-name and the positive effect it had hand on the team at the office.

He had sounded pleased which made her glow with satisfaction.

Peter had wanted to know exactly what she had worn to work and she had explained item by item with considerable pride. She had even told him how her professional look had stunned the other directors and their secretaries on the private floor of the busy office block.

Cindy had called in at the site office after working hours to surprise them too. Her new clothes and new, friendlier name couldn't have gone down better; all the men had been speechless when she had walked unexpectedly into their five-thirty meeting. Even Brian Bloody Barlow had been forced to agree she looked amazing.

She had been lucky with her laptop too. The gorgeous Alan Reid from IT had indeed been there and had brought it back for her. She hadn't had a chance to try it out yet but he had promised her the work he had done would have a big effect.

Cindy felt a little uneasy about how strongly attracted to Alan she felt. In truth, she had felt unusually attracted to all the men on the site. Why hadn't she realised this before? After all, they had always been tall, strong and confident. Perhaps her husband's incredibly good looks had blinded her but now she saw clearly how sexy they all were too.

But there was something special about Alan Reid that made her knees feel weak. How she had ever considered him a pathetic geek was beyond her understanding. He was without doubt the second most attractive man she had ever met, his good looks only exceeded by her husband's.

Erotic thoughts about him and all the other men had filled her head throughout the journey home. By the time she let herself into their apartment, the gusset of her tiny panties had been soaking wet.

Cindy had told her husband Peter all about this during their telephone conversation, even the effect it had had on her vulva and panties. Far from being embarrassed, speaking the words aloud had actually turned her on even more. It seemed to have had a profound effect on her husband too because for the first time in their relationship they had gone on to enjoy a slow, satisfying session of phone sex.

With the handset on hands-free, she had stripped and done to herself every little thing her sexy husband had commanded, playing with herself, saying naughty things and even hurting herself deliciously before finally bringing herself to several powerful climaxes with her fingers as his low, smooth voice bored deep into her soul.

It had been wonderful, long-lasting and adventurous but it hadn't been anything like enough to satisfy her.

Afterwards, still uncomfortably aroused, she had put an erotic, artistic movie on DVD on the bedroom screen and, once she had got used to the flickering had enjoyed a lot more fingering. Cindy hadn't touched herself 'down there' this much since she was a student. It had taken the edge off her itch to some extent but still hadn't truly quenched her thirst.

Her night had been broken by strange erotic dreams in which familiar, good-looking men took advantage of her body in new and exciting ways. She had been helpless to stop them -- indeed hadn't wanted to stop them -- and had even climaxed in her sleep.

On waking, Cindy had been so aroused that she had used her fingers yet again. This had made her vulva even sorer but she couldn't help herself. How she wished she had had a vibrator or even a dildo to help her cope with these new sensations.

She would remedy that omission after work that very day. What had her friends recommended? Rabbit? There was a branch of Ann Summers on her way home. She would ask her driver Richard to wait outside while she nipped in and bought one.

She turned to the TV that was glowing on the bedroom wall. The news had finished, thank God and a programme about plus-size glamour models had started. Cindy felt pleased about this -- it was much more interesting than the stock exchange and currency market reports she used to listen to.

God knows why she had ever thought them interesting or important!

For a moment she frowned, annoyed that even this screen was flickering slightly. But the sight of those beautiful, full-bodied girls and their amazing clothes was so distracting that she stopped noticing after a minute or two.

The programme was fascinating. Cindy stopped getting ready for work and sat down to watch. How she wished she could have been a model like them, with all those people watching her, admiring her, wanting her.

Now the models were changing into their next outfits. No skinny waifs there! No, these girls had the rich, rounded bodies of real women. Cindy looked down at her own body, her skinny legs, bony hips and tiny breasts and frowned.

Of course! It suddenly struck her; all those other girls had much bigger boobs than hers!

Men admired and respected girls with big boobs in a way they didn't respect Cindy. The answer was obvious; she needed big boobs too and she needed them quickly. A proper and expensive breast enhancement was the obvious answer but that took time. Tomorrow she would book herself in with the Harley Street clinic that she knew several of her school friends had used but meanwhile, how could she get bigger boobs quickly?

Padded bras! That was it! Cindy remembered how, when she and her friends were young and just coming into puberty, they used to stuff their bras with tissues or even socks to make themselves look older and more mature. Just as a temporary measure she could do that again. It seemed like the bigger the boobs, the more respect the men gave a girl.

She would show them. They wouldn't ignore her boobs any longer!

She would buy a couple of padded bras on her way in to work. Cindy had woken so late that the shops were open already but meanwhile she would have to make do with stuffing tissues into the bra she would wear today.

She chose a tight-fitting vest top with a very low front in order to show off her new, temporarily larger boobs to best effect. It felt good. She would feel womanly all day; feminine; not like those hard, nasty flat-chested women who were always bad tempered.

She positively skipped to the shower and began to get ready for work.

Wednesday 15th July

'Bzzzzzzzzzzz'

'Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!'

'BzzzzBzzzzzBzzzzz'

'AaaahhhhmmmmmMMMMM!"

A single candle burned low in the bedroom as Cindy's new Rockin' Rabbit vibrator brought her to yet another orgasm, alone on the king-sized bed she shared with her amazing, gorgeous husband.

It was three o'clock in the morning and her third major session with the extraordinary device. Cindy could barely believe that something so simple and so inexpensive could bring her so much pleasure. In her youth and before her marriage she had dallied with the occasional sex toy but for a girl as attractive as she had been, the 'real thing' had never been hard to find.

Consequently her experience with mechanical arousal was limited and the effect of the powerful machine she had bought the previous evening had been as unexpected as it had been profound.

'BzzzzzzZZZzzzzZZZzzzzZZZzzzz'

'Ohhhhhjjjjeeeessssuuuusssssssccchhrriiissstttt!'

Whether it was the thick, knobbly rotating plastic phallus in her vagina, the soft, fast-buzzing rubber lips against her clitoris or the tiny egg-shaped bulb in her rectum, she couldn't tell. All Cindy knew was that she thought she was about to die, or scream, or pee herself, or perhaps all three at once.

'BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ'

'Aaaaaahhhhhhhh...'

She fell back on the pillow, barely conscious as her hand dropped the vibrator, the motor stopped and it slipped noiselessly form her messy, gaping vagina. The bullet in her bottom buzzed on into the night but she didn't notice it and by the time she woke, the battery would be flat.

She fell into an exhausted sleep.

***

A few hours later she was woken abruptly by a loud knocking on the apartment door. Cindy stirred; her body aching, sticky and exhausted. She opened her eyes and looked at the bedside clock. Eight thirty!

There was another knock.

"Lady Lucinda?"

It was her chauffeur Richard's voice.

"Lady Lucinda, you asked me to collect you now for your meeting. Are you all right My Lady?"

Oh God! Why did she have to go to work? How could she possibly pretend to be interested in concrete mixes, load-bearing beams and drainage now she had discovered how her body could really respond when it was stimulated in the right way?

She looked at the large plastic phallus lying on the rumpled sheet alongside her. Could something so small and so insignificant really have turned her brain to mush? She longed to send Richard away and indulge herself in another hour of sheer bliss but something deep within her told her she had obligations.

Besides, it might feel even better if she gave herself a few hours' break.

"Give me half an hour please Richard!"

She slipped the motionless egg from her rectum, then rose from the bed and staggered into the apartment's hallway.

"And please call me Cindy," she called through the closed door.

"Of course, Miss... Cindy. I'll wait in the car."

Cindy stumbled into the kitchen, filled the kettle and put it on to boil. Coffee was needed; strong coffee and in large quantities. She drank two full glasses of cold water from the tap then turned on the flat screen TV on the kitchen wall.

Her misty, tired eyes barely noticed the persistent flicker as she listened to the morning news above the hiss of white noise. As she prepared her coffee, her attention was caught by the newsreader beginning an article on women in business and how so few of them had top jobs. She was mentioned by name.

Cindy smiled; she was bucking that trend. For a woman to be a Vice-President at her age was unusual. Being good at it was quite an achievement too but Cindy now knew there was more to success in life than just being successful in business.

The women being interviewed had got it all wrong! So had the interviewer! Taking men on at their own game was futile. Women had to use their natural advantages. Now that Cindy understood the importance of appearance; of dressing professionally to show off her body; of being as friendly and approachable as possible, of plentiful sex, she could go even further.

But she was no longer sure that she wanted to go further. Now that she was a fully fertile woman again with a wonderful, devastatingly attractive husband, she was beginning to understand where her place in the world really should be.

She would talk to her father about it, but first she had to ensure the current contract was delivered on time and that meant she had to play the role of businesswomen a little longer, going back to the site as often as it took.

The news channel moved on to foreign affairs; something that she used to follow carefully but which now bored Cindy rigid. She poured herself more coffee then went back to the en-suite bathroom and turned on the shower.

Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye. Something wasn't quite right. Something about her wasn't quite the same as the successful business women she had just seen on TV.

Then she got it! Her hair! All the models she had seen on TV had been blonde. Cindy ran her fingers through her rather tangled brown hair. How she hated it! Wouldn't it be better if she was blonde too?

Most of the women that the men at work respected were blondes. Their pictures were all over the changing room walls; blondes with big breasts. Getting bigger breasts would take time. Padding her bra was having some impact but Cindy could become blonde very quickly.

As she sat on the bedroom stool, pulling on her stockings and garters she smiled inwardly. That was it! It would make such a difference.

She wrapped the tiny skirt round her waist and adjusted it so her stocking tops were just visible then sat in front of the mirror applying an extra-thick layer of makeup.

Yes, Cindy should be blonde. She would call as soon as she got in the car and make an appointment.

She slipped her feet into her highest heels, adjusted the padding in her bra then went down to the car where Richard was waiting.

Thursday 16th July

Cindy was excited as her limousine rolled through London's busy street towards her office on her last day as a brunette. When she made the same journey the following morning she would be expensively blonde.

With no site visit planned for the day, there had been plenty of time for an appointment at one of the city's most exclusive salons, so she had given herself the afternoon off. With her money and title, the salon had offered to open late for her, but she had insisted she needed to be home to greet her husband after his tiring week in court.

Peter would be pleased with her new blonde hair and when he learned what she had discovered about the power of her new toy. He would like the idea of her getting new, bigger breasts too.

She fidgeted on the back seat, her laptop open on her knees, her mobile phone's earpiece in her right ear. The screen was flickering again and that strange noise behind the voice on the phone. These alone would have been enough to irritate her but today everything felt unpleasantly hot.

The car's air conditioning was switched on and working but although the day itself wasn't particularly warm, Cindy felt uncomfortable; confined, oppressed, over-heated. What was more, the cheap, skimpy thong panties she was wearing were beginning to chafe both her vulva and between her buttocks.

Why did she feel so hot? It was a bright sunny day but there must be more to it than that. She had felt hot in the night and in her apartment too. Perhaps it was her hormones adjusting now she was no longer on the pill.

She ended her call and stared out of the window at the girls on the street as Richard drove her past. They didn't look too warm. Perhaps she had foolishly overdressed? Yes, that must be it.

Cindy inspected her clothes; the tiny skirt and high heels framing her bare legs -- she hadn't even considered wearing stockings. There was her tight-fitting vest top too; she was wearing so few clothes that there was little she could shed. She couldn't go to work without a top or a skirt so the only thing left was her underwear.

Yes, that must be it; stuffed with padding, her bra was too constraining; too thick and heavy. Perhaps she would feel better without it? But where could she undress?

Fortunately the car was large. Cindy wriggled around in the back seat, pulling her vest top over her head and laying it on the bench beside her. Then she reached behind her back and flicked the clasp on her bra. It fell away, releasing her breasts which though not large, stood very firm and proud on her chest.

She inspected them for a moment. Peter had always loved her breasts; he hadn't been bothered by their diminutive size. He loved to hold them and squeeze them and maybe toy with her large, dark nipples. She looked more closely. Both her nipples and breasts seemed larger and firmer than she remembered. They were shapely too, no sign of dangling yet.

Why should they be hidden away in a silly bra that made her too hot?

Cindy tucked the unwanted bra into the seat pocket then pulled the vest top back over her head, wriggling it down over her wonderful, newly freed boobs.

She felt better already and would feel better still once she could feel the fresh air on her nipples.

No more stupid bras for Cindy, she smiled determinedly as her car pulled up in front of the tall office building.

"I'll need you at three-thirty, Richard," she told her familiar, uniformed driver as he held the door open for her.

With her short, tight skirt it was hard to manoeuvre herself out of the vehicle without displaying her underwear but with Richard placing himself carefully to block the view, she managed and with a brief farewell, tottered into the building where she waited for the Executive Lift to whisk her to the Directors' floor.

***

"Peter?"

"Hugo! Nice to hear from you," Peter replied, pausing at his desk to take the call.

"How's the case going?" his father-in-law asked.

"So-so," came the reply. "I'm not supposed even to think that my client might be guilty but..."

There was an amused snort at the other end of the line.

"So what can I do for you Hugo?"

"Sorry to interrupt you day," the older man said, "But I'm getting even more concerned about Cinders."

"I haven't seen her for a few days," Peter replied. "But she sounded okay on the phone last night."

"Just okay? Did she sound... normal?"

The brief silence that followed told the aristocrat all he needed to know.

"Peter she's behaving strangely again," he began. "She's started turning up late for work, disappearing for a few hours during the day and she's been wearing the most outlandish clothes."

"What do you mean outlandish?" Peter asked. "I know she's been taking a few risks fashion-wise but I thought all her friends were doing it."

The silence was on the other end of the phone now.

"Peter, today your wife and my daughter arrived for work two and a half hours late, then came into a Board Meeting dressed like... like a cheap tart!"

"Goodness!"

"I've never seen anything like it. Everyone else was in our normal suits; Cinders was in heels, stockings and suspenders with a crop top and no bra."