tagExhibitionist & VoyeurN.U.D.E. Ch. 02

N.U.D.E. Ch. 02


Intro: In part one, Miss Helene Jean Ponsonby a sexually and emotionally repressed company director and owner of her family company saw a sign to a mysterious organisation situated next to her offices. She went in the day before to find out what they did, was mistaken for a client, and ended up exposing herself to the receptionist who reciprocated in a mutual masturbation session. She left, not finding out what their company name, N.U.D.E. Ltd stood for. She is returning today to find out, having spent the past 24 hours in a highly aroused state...

* * * * *

So what did N.U.D.E. mean? I cleared my diary for two hours every day for the next four weeks. I intended to investigate thoroughly. It was now day two and I had an appointment for 12.00 hrs.

I had dressed for work as always respectably. I wore a fitted jacket, white blouse, tweed flared skirt one inch below the knee, garter belt and stockings, and a well-fitting bra that kept my 36DD breasts under solid control. I have a good body that nobody other than my mummy, daddy and the doctor had ever seen. Yesterday was an exception as the receptionist of N.U.D.E. saw more than I had ever envisaged, but only from the waist down. Only, I thought to myself. That was some only! I had masturbated in front of her, teased her with the story of my youth and watched her do her own teasing and pleasing of her pierced clitoris. And since that time I wanted her, or someone else, to see more of me and appreciate that I was not the 'Miss Prissy' my company thought I was.

Today I had felt so good that on my way to work I broke my habit of never wearing a high heel. I stopped at Jimmy Choos© and bought an incredibly expensive pair of red leather shoes with delicate straps that seemed to caress my feet yet hold them firmly. I could not get out of my head how like bondage it was; not that I had ever tried it, but could imagine it to be. I am nearly six feet tall, so now I had a towering physical dominance over others. It was so noticeable when I came into the office. I saw men suddenly shift their approach and women too. I liked it. I was subliminally giving messages of being more in control yet a sexual being. To compromise, I had kept my long blonde hair in a practical and tight bun, just as I'd been taught to do at finishing school. Oh, but since yesterday I had decided panties were not on my list of essential clothing; be that at work or in private. I also unbuttoned the blouse to show some flashes of my lovely breasts that strained against their bra, something I had never done before. I had always kept my managerial distance behind an invisible line created by a persona that included my usually formal attire. But now the boundaries were being blurred thanks to that first visit to N.U.D.E. So, managing the instant wetness that came from having so many people admiring me emerged as my early challenge of the day. What secretly excited me was that they might be able to smell my unfettered scent.

Getting through the morning was a struggle, made worse by the need to manage some board politics. I stood the risk of being outvoted and usurped by a clique of three members of the board. My father before he died had tried to protect my future as the family board representative along with my mother who never took an active interest and my wonderful Uncle Albert who had come over from England but who left everything to me while he partied with young men and women. I'd been to one of his parties; shocked and leaving early when I realised that the naked man by the pool sandwiched between the chauffeur and the society woman was him. However, I knew I could call on him when needs be and he always gave good advice. In fact, I wasn't so sure I would run away from one of those parties if he asked me again. A lot had happened in 24 hours, thanks to N.U.D.E.

But back to the issue, there was a small group that wanted to oust me. They cared nothing for the business or its people, behaving like the greedy capitalists they were. They had arrived like wolves in sheep's clothing and my father had not seen they were schemers. However, when I turned up at their meeting wearing my slightly changed clothes, I knew that this simple act had thrown them off course. Meek little Miss Prissy was not so meek any more, or at least that was the image, and I had done my homework. I countered every accusation, every attempt to show me up as incompetent in the business with hard, irrefutable, facts.

Something else I noticed too. Jason Banks, the leader of the pack and our Marketing Director, was stumbling over his words. It was so unlike him, though the hard lump that was clearly showing in his lap suggested I was getting to him in a way that was more usual. He was renowned for working hard and playing hard too. He had literally had every secretary appointed, with one leaving pregnant. Daniel Francois de Caune, our Human Resources Director was hesitant too, though probably because he was only strong when Jason was on terra firma.

However, I was more interested in de Caune's wife Emilie de Caune, formerly Emilie Jackson who was at one time my PA but worked herself up to Company Secretary. I was surprised when she married de Caune; he seemed so asexual and had been a bachelor for a long, long time. I noticed that Emilie said nothing, yet seemed to be studying me closely, especially my legs and feet. Her nipples were stiff on her pert little breasts, as if trying to break through her thin cotton blouse. She was constantly crossing and uncrossing her long sun-tanned legs and I guessed that when I had crouched to plug in the digital projector and my skirt had tightened across my arse she noticed the lack of a panty line. I felt like saying, 'yes honey, I have no panties on.' What was going on in that pretty little head? I made a mental note to invite her to lunch tomorrow and later told my PA to organise it.

It was 11.45 and I was struggling to keep my mind on the game. I knew I had to complete this meeting but it was getting dangerously close to my first real appointment with Doctor Dominic Harrison at N.U.D.E. I could see that Emilie was feeling the same, looking decidedly hot and bothered. I wondered if it was not just my hard facts but had something to do with the way I had positioned myself on the desk so that my stockinged feet were on the board table and she had a perfect view up my skirt that had 'accidentally' ridden up my thighs. I found it so exciting. It was like when I exposed myself to the receptionist Dominique yesterday.

Jason would have seen my stocking tops too, which was clearly keeping him aroused. It was so obvious that they had deliberately sat one on each side of the table, hoping to be able to see each other and signal. However, they had not counted on me positioning myself on that table and facing more towards Emilie, blocking her husband's view of her. To make matters worse I had commandeered the digital projector's remote, so they had to ask me to change slide if they wanted to show their PowerPoint©. Of course, I made a complete hash of it, showing slides too soon that gave me the chance to think ahead how to refute their arguments.

I looked at my watch, having countered and filibustered all morning, then spoke.

"Look, I know you have had concerns about the direction of the business and clearly had a view that I was incompetent," I said, now standing over them and staring into each person's eyes as I scanned the boardroom. I continued, "But please, just come to me if you have concerns. This was my father's business and I want to see it grow. I may differ with you about the 'how' but with the right ideas I will listen and I do want to work in collaboration with you. I suggest we close now and reconvene next week, when I will have some more news for you that I think will totally remove your worries. Let's meet informally in the meantime and I will talk to you each individually about my ideas. In fact, Emilie, how about lunch tomorrow?"

She stood open-mouthed. Was she feeling guilty about how reasonable I was being or was it something to do with the continuing desire that she signalled with her pert tits? I noticed her eyes seemed glued to my tits, their swell revealed by the slightly open blouse.

"I'll get my PA to talk to your secretary Emilie, is that OK? Emilie?"

She could only nod. I made the point of not making a similar offer to the others. No, they would be made to wait and I was sure Daniel would find out in the bedroom tomorrow night. That is, if he shared her bed.

"Thank God that is over," I whispered to my PA. She smiled back with an expression that said. 'I know what you mean'. I hadn't noticed until I came back from N.U.D.E. yesterday how pretty she was, but like me she was a very conservative dresser. It was like a little mission in my mind to change all that.

"Yvette, I am going to lunch now. I'll be away about two hours and in a private meeting, so please do not send any texts or call me unless it is absolutely urgent. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss Ponsonby."

"Call me Helene, Yvette. You have been one of my most loyal employees and I see you as a friend."

I'd wanted to say that to her for years, but that Miss Prissy nickname had been true. I had stayed terribly formal with everyone, but I wanted to change it now. N.U.D.E. had altered me in some imperceptible ways. When I phoned them to make my appointments, I sensed I was on a fantastic journey that would change me forever. The monetary cost was high but I was looking forward to my coming therapy, whatever it was. Besides, I still had not worked out what those initials stood for, so I had to go just to find out, didn't I?

As I left I heard the delayed, almost stunned, reaction, "Thank you Miss, er I mean Helene."

"See you in two hours, approximately." I said gently, almost seductively, whilst smiling and staring straight into her eyes.

I went downstairs via my personal exit, feeling more and more excited as the glass tube descended to street level. I turned left out of the pneumatic door and walked into the little lobby that was the entrance to N.U.D.E. Dominique called equally excitedly through the intercom, "Come in Miss Ponsonby". I was just about to correct her like I had Yvette when the door buzzed and I was let into the waiting area. My cunt was immediately liquid as I recalled yesterday.

"I bet your cunt is like a lake, isn't it?" Dominique said, her voice hoarse with lust. It had clearly triggered similar memories. I blushed.

"Oh yes, I have spent all last night and this morning distracted by thoughts of the pleasure I received yesterday. I had not realised how long those desires had sat dormant in me."

"I can smell you," she said. "I am very attuned to a woman's desire. Dominic has taught me well, as he will teach you. And here he is..."

Dominic entered from the room he had been in yesterday. His white coat gave him the air of a doctor. He had a broad smile and rather than shake my hand, he pulled me to him, his mouth hard onto mine and his tongue forcing between my lips. I was blown away! I just opened up, letting his tongue run over my teeth and play with my own that now snaked out to seek his. I felt my breasts heave and my nipples swell. My cunt was swimming in my juice and I could smell my excitement and feel his. His cock was hard against me and I knew that it was huge.

No sooner was he kissing me than it was over. I'm sure it had been a long time, but somehow it was not long enough. I heard Dominique sigh behind me. I sensed she wanted to kiss me too, not her husband.

"Right, I want you to come into my treatment room and answer some questions. It won't take long, so long as you are honest."

So long as I am honest? How will he know if I am not?

Then, as I walked through the door I saw it. He had a GSR machine, a lie detector. There was a long leather couch, like psychiatrists use. There were some other instruments nearby too.

"Strip please," he instructed in a soft, inviting way.

I hesitated. Why? I'd had my cunt on display this morning and yesterday to a woman and now I was shy with a man?

"Miss Ponsonby, if we are to make progress we need to get going straight away. Now, do we have to spend sessions in hypnotic suggestion until you are comfortable displaying your body to me? Dominique says you have beautiful legs and a lovely shaped cunt, so what is the problem?"

Why should there be one? No man had ever seen me naked, but here was a man who had probably seen so many naked women that one more was no shock to him. Yet still I blushed that Dominique had described me to him, and obviously in some detail. However, I felt proud she liked my body, at least what she had seen. Ok, here we go. I stripped, piling the clothes in my usual neat way on a nearby chair. Then, I climbed up onto the black leather couch.

"Lose that bun please."

"OK," was all I could say, as I let my long blond hair cascade down my back and over my breasts.

"Please ensure that your breasts are fully exposed. Keep the hair away from them."

I was disappointed, he made no comment about my hair which I considered one of my most beautiful assets, but I ensured that the locks fell down my back not my front. I had lovely large yet very firm breasts so it should have been good to have them on show. In fact, ever since my visit to N.U.D.E. yesterday I wanted to bare them to others but now...

"Right, now I am going to put these electrodes on your fingers. They will measure your responses as I ask you questions. The other apparatus we will use later."

"Ok," was all I could muster. I felt peculiarly self-conscious again, being totally naked on his couch. My pussy seemed ludicrously bushy, unlike Dominique's, and I began to wonder whether he liked it or not. I saw him look at it quite intensely but there was no expression on his face as he placed the electrodes on my fingers, only a gentle squeeze of my hand that could have been to test responses or else was a simple sign of reassurance. His eyes never wandered up to my breasts which surprised me and then left me doubting if I was attractive.

"I'm just going to calibrate the machine."

I did not like the way he sounded formal, having been so overtly sexual and informal when he met me. There was silence now, bar the hum of the machine and the muffled sound of Dominique greeting someone who had been buzzed in. I imagined I could hear my own breathing.

"Good, you are an excellent subject."

How? Because I'd stripped off? Was my pussy nice? What was excellent? I was naked and vulnerable on a stranger's couch and thought I was here to free up my sexuality. Originally it had been to find out what the N.U.D.E. acronym meant, but that quest was very secondary now.

"I'm going to ask you some questions. You must answer as truthfully and accurately as you can."

"What happens if I don't? Do I get a shock?" I asked, laughing weakly at my own pathetic attempt at a joke.

"No," he said simply, "It will show up on the GSR meter's printout as significant peaks and troughs. So remember, be honest, no matter how hard that may be to do. Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. I bet they don't make prisoners undress like this when they use lie-detectors?"

"No, but then their sexual problems are very different to yours," he replied, again using that nerdy scientist tone that he seemed to have adopted. My God, he was so serious! Anyhow, what sexual problems? I hadn't really told him anything.

"So please answer these questions: What is your name?"

"Miss Helene Jean Ponsonby."

I heard the machine's printout pens scraping across the paper.

"Where do you live?"

More scraping.

"3400 Archers Boulevard"

Again, the pens darted across the paper.

"Is that true?"


There was a click and another scrape of the pens, though shorter.

"Ok," said Dominic, "I've adjusted the main recording machine. We can begin. I will intersperse some very personal questions between general questions concerning your sexuality and interests, some non-sexual. Most questions will require a yes or no answer only. Remember, you must be honest."

"How many years have you been growing your hair?"




A light, short scrape of the pens.

"Did you masturbate this morning?"

What? I had to answer this?

"Did you masturbate this morning?"

"Yes," I answered, hearing the pens scrape slowly over the sheet. I was blushing. I'd never admitted to anyone I masturbated and I had to admit I had done it over five times since yesterday lunchtime, even in the office toilet. Ok, think, I told myself. If it was a slow scrape of the pen then it must be true I thought. Probably the spike would be short.

"Did you use your fingers?"


I had regretted not having a vibrator this morning. I wanted to have something filling me. My dreams had been so obscene that night, always including a man with a big cock fucking me to pleasure. All I had done was diddle with my clit using my fingers.

"Have you ever used a dildo?"


The scrape was slow again.

"Would you like to fuck me?"

What? He is my therapist. I need to maintain a professional distance. I had to lie; he could not know that in my heart I wanted that kiss we had to turn into a full-blown sex session, possibly with Dominique as well. My God, my head was racing with the dirtiest thoughts. I answered quickly but not honestly.

"No," I replied, almost snapping it out.

I heard the pens scrape maddeningly. He had to know I had lied. I heard him chuckle under his breath. How humiliating.

"Please be honest."

"I am.."

The pens scraped madly again. I was a useless liar. It was my turn to chuckle.

"Would you like to fuck my wife?"

That had been my fourth realisation yesterday. I believed I was bi-sexual and wanted to take his wife's pussy in my mouth or fuck her with a strap-on, something I'd read about in the Black Lace© anthology I bought last night and had read until the early hours.

"Yes," I whispered, realising what a revelation this was and how I'd been more willing to admit that than wanting sex with this man. The pen moved slowly.

"That's better," he stated, reassuringly.

Then he listed a whole set of sexual practices, asking me in turn which I liked. If I did not know, he would explain it and then ask me if I wanted to try it. Sometimes I lied with a 'no', horrified at one level by the practice but inside secretly intrigued. I don't know why I even tried to deny it as each time I did the GSR knew. There was little I was unwilling to try in reality, other than scat and peeing. He also asked me questions that could only be psychometrics from some personality test. We used that type of thing when recruiting, trying to get to the real person. I was not fazed by these as I was sure they would help him know me better. But it was his last question that surprised me.

"Do you remember seeing Mrs Eleanor Fraser yesterday?"

"Yes," I said, remembering the petite and extremely pretty woman in a pure white dress who had come in yesterday for the appointment that Dominique had assumed was for me. I recalled that she seemed to be wearing no underwear as I could see the dark circles of her nipples and the triangle below was hair not panties.

"Would you like to fuck her?"

"Yes," I replied, quickly. Well she wasn't here so what was the harm and it was not going to happen, was it, even if I had fantasised about her all night along with the others?

"Right, thank you. Please put on this mask with its attached brain sensors, ready for the next part of the therapeutic investigation."

I hesitated. He had handed me a full leather face mask with only a hole for the mouth and mesh at the side for my ears. Over the cap were about ten sensors wired into it, with a box attached that was some form of wi-fi transmitter.

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