The Laura Effect

I gave an almost silent sigh of joy and then I gently stroked the hair at the back of her head.

"Now my darling…"

Nothing more was needed. She shifted her head fractionally and then I felt her tongue grazing the very edges of my labia. I shivered in delight as she traced the same path over and over again patiently easing me apart.

Over the course of the next quarter of an hour she worked her way inwards until her tongue could go no deeper. My whole body felt incredibly hot but it was being stoked by the furnace that my sex had become.

I felt myself lubricating freely and every now and again she would pause to quietly swallow. She continued to dictate the pace and I was happy to let her. I had been growing a little restless, waiting for her to seek out my clitoris, but she had me so aroused that I was going to come without much further stimulation.

Her tongue was moving inside me as if it had a mind of its own and I squeezed it welcomingly. She seemed to find pleasure points that I did not know existed and she started to murmur encouragement. They were not words, simply sounds, but their meaning was obvious.

My body grew tense until I was shaken by tiny convulsions and the whole time she urged me on. Sensing the final onset she sealed her mouth tightly to my sex and moaned one last entreaty. The resonance was the trigger I needed and my body exploded in a glorious liquid release. It seemed to go on and on but she was not deterred. When I finally came down from the pinnacle I was dimly aware that she was still bound tightly to me willing to take all that I had to give.

At the finish my legs were badly cramped and, recognizing this, she slid her arms away allowing me to straighten them out to either side of her. She did not move but simply looked up at me with a rapturous expression.

"Did you enjoy?"

Her face was covered in my juices and perspiration beaded on her forehead making her hair lank but, even in this dishevelled state she still looked totally desirable. I reached down and touched a finger to her cheek.

"It was wonderful…the best."

Her eyes lit up at the compliment and then she smiled.

"Not yet…the best is still to come"

Without another word she bowed down. I felt her tongue at the apex of my labia and my clitoris stirred in response. I was exhausted and it would be an age before I was ready again, if at all, but she was willing to take as long as it took…

Chapter 4

The following day I overslept and was almost late for my second interview with Laura. When I got there I was pleased to find that the session was to be monitored by a different warder which saved any embarrassment.

I gathered my papers together and waited for Laura to be escorted in and it was a further relief to see that she was dressed far more soberly than before. I hoped that the rigours of incarceration were finally coming home to her as it was more likely to make her cooperative.

Her school record indicated an aptitude for maths and intelligence tests suggested that she had well developed problem solving skills. She could be well spoken when she wanted to, as evidenced by her trial, but usually chose to express herself in street argot.

One of the companies offering training places under the rehabilitation scheme was a large firm of Loss Adjusters. Personally I had my doubts about their motives, their chairman being pretty tight with high placed members of the government, but mine was not to reason why.

In truth I was leaning towards rejecting Laura but I was still prepared to give it my best. I spent twenty minutes trying to find out from her where her interests lay but she was irritatingly vague.

At that point I let her have my opinion and gave an almost mechanical presentation of the skills required in Loss Adjusting. To my surprise she showed a keen interest and asked a number of probing questions some of which were beyond my vague knowledge of the subject.

That we were communicating at all was a big plus and I began to feel the familiar buzz which came with doing my job well. I was just explaining to her that, at the highest levels, the job required character reading skills, to see through the bullshit that was so much a part of insurance negotiations, when the warder entered the room.

I could not believe that time had passed so quickly but as Laura turned to leave she smiled at me.

"I think I'm pretty good at character reading. You've met Nicola, how did you find her…?"

With that she was gone and I was left to try and decipher her parting remark. Was it a casual enquiry or was she toying with me?

If my professional life was back on track it was more than could be said for my personal life. John had still not phoned and I was angry with him to the extent that we seemed to have become engaged in a childish game of 'you first'.

I had no doubts that it could all be thrashed out at a face to face meeting but, the truth was, I was in no great hurry. The past few days had revealed to me facets of a persona previously unimagined. I had engaged in reckless sex with two women who had been complete strangers to me and it had excited me in a way that my encounters with men had never come close to.

Had it simply been a case of exploring lesbian sex then I could have dismissed it as one of life's experiences, something to be savoured and then left behind, but this was something different – it was all about control. The thought of going down on a woman still made me shiver but the thrill of having it done to me, and dictating the manner of it, induced a high the like of which I had never known.

I had a degree in psychology but I could not explain to myself the paradox whereby my yearning to be in control was, by any rational analysis, symptomatic of someone out of control.

For the next few days I threw myself into my work. Laura's was one of only many cases that I was currently running but, for all the wrong reasons, it was the most intriguing. I met her for a third time and this time she was keen to talk. She wanted more information on a prospective placement with a Loss Adjusting firm and I promised to get her some background materials.

By the time of our fourth encounter she was speaking of it as though it was a fait accompli and I felt a little guilty. I was still not entirely convinced of her suitability and, although she did not know it, the best I could hope to argue her sentence down to would be two years and that, in itself, was dependent on one major factor.

What finally convinced me was her willingness to take a distance learning course during her time in prison so that she could hit the ground running on her release. I reasoned that, if she passed the exams, it would be proof of her ability to reform.

I began to put the wheels in motion. Without my intervention she was probably facing five years. If I put her forward for the scheme it would automatically go down to three but there was one other possibility.

The government was laying great store by a new scheme called "Face the Victim". As its name implied victim and perpetrator were brought face to face so that the victim could explain the ongoing effects of the offence and the perpetrator had a opportunity to apologize. It was hoped that the scheme would give the victims closure and that the perpetrators, having seen the misery that they caused, would feel suitably remorseful.

It was a very long shot but I wondered if I could bring Laura together with Miranda Coombes; a positive outcome might just get Laura three years remission.

In the event Coombes was a very hard woman to contact. She was now of sufficient stature to be represented by an agent and, of necessity, I had to be circumspect in my approach. At first my calls were not returned but then I tried another tack; I submitted the "Face the Victim" scheme not as a personal issue but as a prospective human interest story.

Later that same day I got a call back. Coombes was prepared to meet me and offered lunch. I accepted but immediately began to have second thoughts. I was not authorized to discuss the scheme officially and if I revealed the true nature of my interest she might have good grounds for seeking my dismissal.

In the event I went anyway. Looking back, I guess I was motivated as much by self interest as I was by taking the case forward. Laura seemed to exert an influence over people, myself included, and if I could bring all the pieces of the jigsaw together I felt that I might just reach a better understanding.

When she walked into the restaurant I saw that the transformation from teacher to television anchor woman was complete. She wore a charcoal, tailored, business suit the skirt of which emphasised her long legs whilst still maintaining her professional appearance. I also noted that the jacket was cut in such a way that it tempered her large breasts and made them appear more modest without compromising their pleasant shape.

I hated to think what the outfit had cost but clearly no expense had been spared. Her face was her fortune and her make-up had been professionally applied to highlight her piercing green eyes and the generous proportions of her lips. As she approached I found myself wondering if she had had some work done on her nose; it looked a little neater than I remembered it from the photographs. All in all this vision that sat down at the table seemed a world away from Laura Simmons.

At the outset she maintained a professional demeanour but, as we both worked our way through a salad, she began to open up. I sold "Face the Victim" as a possible documentary and she seemed keen to cement her claim to being a serious journalist. Throughout the meal I made most of the running as she quizzed me on the nature of my job and my thoughts about the scheme.

It was only over coffee that I alluded to her own experiences and in the space of seconds the atmosphere changed. All pretence at friendliness disappeared as she settled the bill and politely, but tersely, said that she would be in touch. As she left I thought that I had failed and that I would never hear from her again.

I was surprised, therefore, when, two evenings later, the phone rang. It was Miranda. She had just finished the early evening bulletin and asked if I would like to meet for a drink. I hesitated for a second or two having just stepped out of the shower and donned my nightwear.

She picked up on my perceived lack of enthusiasm.

"Look, if you don't want a drink can I swing by? I'm in your area and I just need ten minutes of your time."

I was now intrigued and gave her directions to my apartment the address of which she already knew from my business card. I was dressed in scant shorts with a sloppy top and considered getting dressed again but my skin was still damp and I decided that she would have to take me as she found me.

As I let her into the apartment she saw how I was dressed and faltered momentarily but she quickly regained her composure. I invited her to sit on one of the twin sofas and then I sat opposite and offered a glass of wine from the bottle that I had open.

I sipped from my own glass and waited for her to speak.

"I want you to tell me honestly. Was your approach to me in any way to do with Laura Simmons?"

For just a second I considered a lie but there was something in her look, something imploring.

"I'm evaluating her at present."

Her eyes flashed to anger.

"And so our meeting was a pretence?"

"Look, if you want to proceed with the project, I can put you in touch with the right people. They're anxious to publicise the scheme and your personal experience, whether mentioned or not, will give it an added poignancy."

She considered this for a moment, and seemed to appreciate the merits, before she spoke once more.

"Tell me, in your opinion, does it work?"

"Not in all cases. Some of the perpetrators are beyond remorse but, where they do show it, yes, I think it works. The victims become less fearful and they go on to rebuild their personal dignity. Of course, if you're cynical, you could argue that it gives the victim a chance to gloat but that too can be constructive in terms of rehabilitation."

"Where do the meetings take place?"

"Strictly speaking they should take place in a secure environment, that would usually be a prison, but, if it is not a first degree offence, it could possibly be arranged under guard somewhere of the victims choosing."

There was another pause and she dropped her eyes. I immediately became conscious of my unfettered breasts and I awkwardly covered them with my arm. Miranda did not seem to notice.

"You know what she did to me?"

Again, I was tempted to skirt the issue, but I felt it best to be honest with her.

"Yes, I do."

She looked at me for a long time and I could see that she was reaching a decision as to whether or not to confide. When she next spoke it was with hesitation.

"That girl changed my life. On the one hand, if it hadn't happened, I would still be a teacher, I would not have been able to fulfil my dream but she has taken something away and I want it back."

I think I had inkling but I waited for her to continue.

"I was engaged to be married, I wanted all the usual things, I still do, but I'm different now. And do you know the worst of it? My whole career is built on image, I'm in the public eye, I can't explore these new feelings, but I need to know what I have become."

The Laura effect. Monica was fighting the same demons as I was but I knew that the influence had worked on her in a different way than it had on me. I framed my next question carefully

"You want to know if it was just her or something more?"

This time there was no doubt. Her eyes roamed over my body flitting awkwardly. My mind was working overtime. She was a victim, as I was, in need of help. The professional in me knew exactly what I should do but there was, of course, another way.

I rose from the sofa. Outwardly, I remained calm but my heart was hammering.

"Come with me."

For a second she had a look of confusion, mixed with a hint of trepidation, but the natural tone of authority in my voice seemed to reassure her. She put down her glass and got up.

I led the way and she followed docilely but then hesitated at the threshold of the bedroom.

"Come inside"

She stepped forward, almost mindlessly, and I wished that I had had time to do a little tidying up. The alcove containing my desk and computer was permanently cluttered but I would not normally leave dirty clothes strewn on the floor.

She did not seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the bed with its lazily arranged quilt. She remained frozen and then I remembered something Laura had said. She had commented on Miranda's choice of a pine bed with head and foot boards which made it a perfect choice if bondage was your thing.

Purely by coincidence my bed was of the same type, a king sized model which I had bought from IKEA and constructed myself, but I had chosen it for its elegant simplicity.

Up to that point I had no clear idea exactly where I wanted to take things but one look at her now made up my mind for me. After an awkward hiatus she turned towards me and I gave the guidance she sought.

"Lie down on the bed."

Her hands moved hesitantly towards the buttons of her jacket.

"Don't undress…"

She looked unsure but then did as I asked lying primly with her hands at her sides.

She was dressed much as she had been at our lunch; another immaculately tailored business suit but this time in a fetching shade of pale grey. As I walked towards the bed her nervousness was made evident by the uneasy rise and fall of her chest but I was about to increase her anxiety. I stooped to pick up a pair of discarded 'stay up' stockings from the floor and her eyes immediately widened.

"Let me have your arm."

She looked at the stockings and then back to me before half rising from the bed.

"It's your choice. I'm not forcing you."

Even as I spoke the words it occurred to me that it might actually be the duress that she sought and I thought, for a moment, that she would not go through with it but she lay back down and looked at me earnestly.

"No one must ever know…"

"Why would I want to tell anyone?"

She hesitated for a second or two more and then stretched out her arm to me. As I took her wrist I saw that she was no longer wearing an engagement ring and I felt a momentary pang of guilt about John but it quickly passed.

I passed the stocking around her wrist and tied a double knot before securing the other end to the bedpost. I had no experience but I tied it in such a way that her circulation was not endangered. I then moved to the opposite side and secured her other arm which she extended willingly now that she was reassured that I was not going to be too severe.

At the outset I had intended nothing more than a symbolic restraint but her helplessness had a greater effect on me than I could have imagined. I opened the drawer in the bedside cupboard and took out a second pair of stockings. She raised her head to see what was going on.

"What are you doing?"

"Shush..just relax…"

She had discarded her shoes before lying down and I now took hold of her ankle and bound it as I had her wrist.

"Wait…I'm not sure..."

I ignored her as I finished and then started on the other.

She raised her knee in a gesture of token defiance but she did not resist as I gently pulled her ankle towards the foot of the bed. Now that I had her fully restrained I felt my heart pounding in my chest. We both knew what must come next but I realized that it was more than just the anticipation of physical release. Just days ago Laura had planted a vivid image in my mind, an image that had guiltily haunted my dreams since, and now it had become reality.

I kidded myself that I was helping her to explore her own darker impulses but I had woven my own design. Laura had abused a frightened, naked, teacher; I had only known the immaculate, professional, journalist and it was that woman that now lay before me.

Almost without thinking I ran my hand lightly along her calf and then a little higher until my fingertips grazed the inside of her knee. She moaned, almost imperceptibly, and shifted slightly so that her skirt rode up fractionally. With a smile I arched my fingers beneath it and could now see that she was wearing traditional stockings and a pair of very expensive looking white panties.

"Were you hoping to impress someone this evening?"

She said nothing, as she lay perfectly still with her eyes closed, and I suddenly understood that she was frightened that I would take my hand away. I was intrigued by this. It had been no part of my intention but I allowed my fingers to drift a couple of inches higher.

I was now hovering at the darker border of her stocking top and she was breathing with increasing rapidity. My own need was growing more urgent but I held myself in check.

Very slowly, I eased my fingertips upwards onto bare flesh and she hissed a breath through gritted teeth.

Her skin was very warm and I was aware of toned muscles overlain by an incredibly smooth softness. I was used to the hard insensitivity of men's bodies but this was something completely different. I could feel the tiny tremors of her excitement silently exhorting me to explore further.

Her ankle pulled against it's restraint as I removed my hand but she froze again as she felt me raising her skirt. She lifted her hips a little but I had no intention of removing it altogether. I simply wanted to see the effect I was having on her and I draped it on her stomach to reveal her lower body.

The tan straps of her suspenders perfectly matched the colour tone of her stockings and I wondered just how much they had cost as I playfully slipped a finger underneath. Her body tensed at this fresh intrusion but I eased away again to continue my journey across her inner thigh.