Pleasure in Control Ch. 05


Kirsten reassured me. "No, it's too early. You have to build a relationship. Your Passionella card is programmed to show you are yet to experience the full package. However, now Stevie has invited you to a showing, your level of access will be upgraded."

Sounded good to me. But all this talk had brought back the sensual feelings I'd experienced in sexy Stevie's presence and I sensed Kirsten was getting hot too. Suddenly she stood up.

"Hey, show me what you bought, glamour girl" she demanded, and tipped my shopping bags out onto her bed. She rustled through the mounds of tissue paper, admiring my new clothes.

"I'd love to see you in this" she drooled, holding up the purple bodystocking similar to the one that Rachel had modelled for me during my 'training'

"Did you realise this is the new product that is being launched next week at the private show? You're very lucky to have these," she continues, finding the grey one too.

I explain how Rachel had come to give them to me. "Go on, show me how Rachel 'demonstrated' hers," Kirsten demanded.

I protest weakly for a moment, then gave in. "Oh, OK, but I'm not as well practised as Rachel, and my body is not as firm."

"How do you know how firm Rachel's body is? She didn't let you ...Oh, she did. The scheming bitch. She knows how everyone wants to feel her boobs,. I bet she enjoyed it more than you did."

"I bet no-one could have enjoyed that experience more than I did," I retorted, looking at Kirsten coyly out of the corner of my eye.

I took the bodystocking with me into the bathroom and, to howls of protest from Kirsten, dressed in my day clothes over the top before emerging. Then, I went through the 'I can't undo my buttons' routine with Kirsten and she revelled in undoing them for me. I wouldn't let her pull open my blouse though, to reveal the purple Lycra and lace bodystocking. I wanted to do this, and I wanted to do it slowly. Very, very slowly, facing K as she perched on her chair.

She fidgeted and panted as I revealed my sheathed boobs; the Lycra flattening them a little more than it had Rachel's, but my exquisitely erect nipples poked delightfully against the fabric forming two long conical points. I cupped my breasts momentarily, allowing my nipples to extrude between my thumbs and forefingers.

Kirsten smiled and nodded her approval.

From here, and still facing her I slid my hands slowly down my chest and my abdomen making small circles on the way and, as adeptly as I could, released the five buttons down the front of my trousers. Taking my cue from Rachel again, I invited Kirsten to pull them down.

To my amazement and pleasure, she crawled towards me, tiger-like, and pulled them off with her teeth! I kicked them away and pirouetted across to the other side of the room. Kirsten, still on all fours, followed me. Then, sitting back on her heels, she watched spellbound as I put on the best show I knew how, twisting, tuning and gyrating seductively in front of the long mirror. I couldn't believe it was really me as I watched myself, in a detached way. Which Julie, or Julia, was it I was watching?

I simply couldn't resist when Kirsten asked to feel the firmness of my breasts through the thin fabric of the bodysuit. After all, that's what I did to Rachel. So I turned to the mirror and allowed her to reach under my arms and close her warm hands onto the fronts of my boobs. I felt a surge of tension in my nipples and they pushed even harder to meet the pressure of Kirsten's hands as she moulded and caressed my breasts. Then, she slipped her hands under them and cupped them tenderly. Lifting them slightly, she caused them to press even tighter against the stretch Lycra that encased my torso, and the most exquisite bolt of sexual energy shots through me. I closed my eyes to better savour the glorious feelings and I went weak at the knees.

Kirsten released her hold on my breasts and I opened my eyes. She was looking at my reflection in the mirror, smiling a wistful, dreamy smile of satisfaction, and her eyes were dewy.

"Kirsten," I said, commandingly, "get your fucking clothes off, now, and let me have some of the fun."

She didn't need any more persuasion and she started to undo the gold buttons of her high-necked jacket. No tease this time, more a sense of urgency. Pushing out her chest, she pulled her jacket apart and slipped it down her arms, allowing it to fall in a heap on the floor behind her.

Under her corporate-burgundy-coloured jacket, Kirsten was wearing a white silky camisole top and the only shoulder straps I could see were its narrow lacy supports. Was she, maybe, not wearing a bra? Puzzlingly, I couldn't see her nipples through the camisole so I suspected that she was. But still I hoped that, this evening, I'd get to see her naked breasts.

Kirsten pulled down the zipper on her trousers and allowed them to join her jacket on the floor. I could now see that she was wearing a pair of white panties set high on her hips at the sides and which plunged in a deep vee at the front. The smooth flesh of her abdomen peeped from below the lower lace-trimmed edge of her camisole and that delectable triangle of white skin ended just above her mound.

In a single swift movement she lifted her camisole by the hem and pulled it over her head. Now I could see, to my great delight, that she was wearing a white strapless bustière that I soon realised was identical to the russet brown one that I borrowed, except of course that it fitted her perfectly.

"Do you like what you see?" she enquired – a rhetorical question! I'd turned my back to the mirror now and was gazing in wonder at her physical form. "Kirsten, you look fantastic. Come on," I pleaded, "give me a show, just like when you were a Dem."

To add to the tension, Kirsten walked deliberately and seductively to the music centre and put on a slow, jazzy instrumental track that I didn't recognise, and started to move. Slowly, erotically, she blew my mind with her display. She looked at me tantalisingly out from under her eyebrows. She tossed her head back and from side to side. She thrust her breasts forward, then pulled them back as the leaned her shoulders forward towards me. Turning and gyrating, she traced the shape of her neck and body with her hands, and then made small movements in time to the music, almost like an Indian dancer. Her bustière was fastened on its tightest setting, accentuating the shape of her slim body. She pulled the sides of her panties high on her hips and caressed her own covered breasts. She is unbelievably sexy and she knows it.

"Kirsten, you are tuning me on like no-one ever has before, I exclaimed, "You're the best."

Absent-mindedly, I had been running my own hands over my own body and Kirsten reciprocated: "And you are the best audience I have ever had. Go on, J, turn me on more."

I obliged and, facing Kirsten, I ran my hands down my sides and on down the outsides of my thighs, then slowly ran my fingers back up the insides, stopping just before I reached the edges of my purple Lycra second skin. The look of ecstasy on my face was real. Feeling weak, I dropped to my knees and spread my legs, continuing to describe small circles on my inner thighs. I rocked back and forth, tilting my pelvis and momentarily lifting my bum off my heels, then dropping back. The alternating tension in my abdomen gave me an extra thrill and my whole body tingled, elevated to a higher level of excitement.

Then I really went wild. I swivelled round on my knees so my back was to Kirsten, who by now was sitting on the edge of a chair, and dropped forward onto all fours, pushing my bum towards my audience so she got a really good look at my crotch. Panting and moaning, I gyrated my hips, causing my pussy to rub against the inside of the tight bodystocking that was stretched between my legs. The feeling was wonderful and I wanted, I needed, desperately to rub my clitoris.

Gaining confidence and aware of Kirsten's heightened attention, I stood slowly, turned and looked her straight in the eye.

"Help me, Kirsten, please help me," I asked, trying to conceal my weak and wavering voice.

I walked to the long bench in front of her dressing table and lay back on it. With my head supported at one end and the other end under my coccyx, I tensed my tummy muscles and lifted my feet off the floor, pulling my knees almost up to my chest and spreading my inner thighs. I felt so very, very horny and the feeling of unashamedly exposing my barely-covered pussy to my friend and mentor was driving me crazy.

"Kirsten," I then said with difficulty as my mouth was so dry (unlike my pussy which, unsurprisingly, was by now soaking wet) "there are three small buttons between my legs. Undo them, please."

Without hesitating, Kirsten smiled and walked slowly towards me. She knelt at the end of the padded bench and looked down.

"No," she said, "You are wrong. There are four"

"I only remember three," I replied, puzzled by her contradiction.

"No, definitely four," she countered.

"Are you sure, Kirsten? I think you're wrong," I protested, unsure quite why we were arguing over such an unimportant detail as the exact number of buttons.

"Let's count them," Kirsten suggested, and began.


She touched a fingertip on the outer left button that secured the crotch of the bodystocking over my aching, pulsing pussy. I heard myself gasp quietly.


She pressed lightly on the button at the other side of my swollen mound and my muscles spasmed at her touch. After a longer pause she continued.


Kirsten lightly touched the small white button in the centre of the gusset, located just over the entrance to my moist vagina. My legs quivered and I moaned, clutching at my lycra-clad breasts and squeezing my nipples, hard. Only then did I realise what she was planning to do next.

I released my hold on my aching breasts and clutched tightly to the sides of the padded bench as I steadied myself for what I had (correctly) guessed was to come next.

After a long, long pause - the longest, most excruciating period of cruel anticipation I had ever known, during which tears welled up in my eyes as I held my breath - Kirsten purred "Four," and simultaneously flicked her fingernail across the taught fabric directly over the swollen, sensitive bud of my clit.

I screamed. Then, trying to control myself, I swallowed hard, feigning (unconvincing) self-composure.

"Kirsten, please undo the first 3 buttons for me." I asked, trying my best to sound calm, just as if we were together in a store changing room. Kirsten obliged, taking care of course not to touch the hypersensitive flesh of my inner thighs. She undid the two outer buttons. Then she unhooked middle one, releasing the tension in the Lycra. As the fabric snapped away from above and below my pussy I felt a rush of cool air hit my gaping, engorged cunt.

I let out a long sigh of relief and looked down between my knees at Kirsten. She was sitting on her haunches, smiling a sensuous, dreamy smile. She flashed her eyes momentarily to meet mine before returning to feast them upon my wide-open, dripping-wet vulva.

"Here, let me tidy you up," she offered, and neatly, caringly she tucked the front and rear webs of the body-stocking up inside its narrow waist so it now looked and felt more like a skin-tight vest. The whole of my body, from my hips right the way down to my glossy, high-heeled shoes was totally naked and exposed to Kirsten's gaze, and I was loving every single highly-charged moment.

I wanted to return my hands to my breasts to stimulate my hugely-erect nipples but they were needed somewhere else. I had never masturbated in front of someone else before. Not even a man, let alone a woman, but I was past all rational thought. My hips and knees were starting to ache from holding my debauched position on the padded bench, but I pushed those feelings aside, realising that Kirsten could not frig me off so I was going to have to do it myself.

Leaving my nipples to point achingly skywards (in my mind, they called to me in protest as I ignored them), I ran my hands slowly down my taught, straining abdomen and over the edge of the bodystocking onto warm, smooth skin. Onwards I tracked, down to the edge of my mound until I reached the first curls of my pubes.

I pulled my knees closer to my shoulders and slid my fingers between my thighs and around my mound. They met again at the spot where Kirsten found the third button instantly becoming wet and slippery with the slippery natural fluids that exuded in copious pulses from my open hole.

I glanced at Kirsten and she nodded in approval. "Go on, you've got to do it. If you don't come now, in front of me, you'll never be able to do it in front of a Passionella Dem. You know you need to, to keep up the deception. Remember, you are Julia, successful and wealthy recruitment executive. You'll expose yourself as a fraud, an impostor, if you can't masturbate in the private rooms; all Passionella's inner circle of valued clients do it. It's what they pay for."

I knew she was right and in my present state of heightened arousal, I needed little convincing.

"Yes, Kirsten, I know. I can do it and I'm going to do it for you." I sighed.

I went in for the kill, sliding the long middle finger of my right hand deep into my open, well-lubricated vagina, then moving it slowly up between the gaping folds of my swollen inner labia lips and under my hood.

I touched my clit,

... and cried out,

... loud.

... Very, very loud.

Unable to hold my position any longer, I dropped my feet flat on the floor and pushed my pussy mound high into the air. My nipples pressed hard against the tight Lycra that restrained them and as I thrashed my head from side to side, my damp hair fell across my eyes. I gasped and panted and I gulped huge mouthfuls of air. My lips were dry so I moistened them with my tongue, tasting salty perspiration on my face.

Frantically I rubbed my clitoris. Up and down, round and round and from side to side until I quickly exploded into a deep and powerful orgasm, releasing all the pent-up excitement of masturbating in front of another woman for the first time. And no ordinary woman. The gorgeous Kirsten.

I extracted every last gramme of pleasure from my oh-so-public climax. The feelings went on for ages and my heart was thumping, I pulled my knees back up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my shins, pulling my inner thighs together to exert pressure on my still-pulsing pussy. As the sensations slowly subsided, I relaxed and lay back on the bench, exhausted.

Kirsten broke the silence. "Julia, sweetie, I have never seen a client, or a Dem, or anyone else, masturbate in such a provocative and sensual way as that. You are fantastic, you are wonderful. You make me feel so horny and you turn me on like I can't remember ever feeling before. You, you, oh Julia ..."

I sat up and only then realised why Kirsten's had voice trailed off. She now had her right hand down the front of her panties. I could see the outline of her knuckles pressed tight against the inside of the material as she held it away from her pussy. Her fingers were between her legs and she was kneeling up.

"Oh, Kirsten, oh, Kirsten." is all I could say as she frigged herself wildly. First she leaned back and thrust her pelvis towards me. Then she leaned forward, supporting her upper body on just her left hand as she continued to masturbate her pussy with the other, moaning and pleading with herself.

I wanted to help.

I stood astride her waist and leaned over her. To help support her weight (and for no other reason, I told myself), I reached under her torso and grasped her breasts, still trapped in the white bustier, and squeezed them. I moulded their shape with my eager hands and I rubbed her nipples through the fabric of her bra-cups. As I squatted astride her, a small stream of sticky cunt-juice oozed from my vagina and trickled down onto Kirsten's bare back, between the edge of her bustière and the top of her panties. I saw her muscles twitch as she felt my wetness on her skin.

My tormented, and now glistening, friend looked up over her shoulder and pleaded with me.

"Julia, I need to come, now. I'm desperate. Release me. Tell me I can. Please, oh please tell me I can come. Let me come ... sweetie ... please say I can ..."

Her voice tailed off and there was a hint of real urgency in her request. This was not an act.

Frightened by the sudden realisation that, as 'client', I had to give her permission to come, I experienced - in a fleeting moment - feelings of both power and passion.

"Kirsten, for fuck's sake, come now, you sexy bitch, let it go! Come on, come on! Come!" I yelled.

Kirsten immediately growled a deep, animal growl and convulsed as her orgasm flooded through her body. She collapsed on the floor between my feet, ground her pussy into the carpet and let out a long, deep moan before rolling over onto her back.

Kirsten looked up at me from between my legs. My pussy was still twitching as my fat, wet, engorged cunt-lips protruded beneath me, exposed to her fascinated gaze. She held up her fingers invitingly and I smelt her musky scent. I bent forward to suck on them but she pulled them away at the last moment, putting each one in her own mouth and licking them clean.

"Thanks, sweetie, that was absolutely glorious!" Kirsten sighed, exhaling deeply. "I think we had better look at the rest of your shopping another time."

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