The Organization Pt. 09

The Organization, Part 9 - First Assignment

Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers

(Wednesday, the Twelfth of the Month)

"So, what's the surprise?" Victoria asked. Her sky blue eyes flashed hungrily at the box I was holding, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair swung over her neck and shoulders as she sat on the Bergere cane couch next to me. I could feel the heat of her slim, toned body on mine, even through our clothes - hers, a casual set from Rag & Bone jeans, paired with a white Alexander Wang tee top, mine, a business suit from Ann Taylor in tweed.

"Melissa, my business partner, made these herself - she's quite good at it. Go ahead, open it," I said, smiling.

The twenty-two year old former 'Miss New York Dairy Industry', fashion model, and wife, laughed happily. "I love surprises, I've never been disappointed yet."

"Well, you certainly won't be this time," I said, as she swiftly removed the pretty, purple satin ribbon and bow from the small box in her perfectly manicured hand. I brushed back my own long, blonde hair, darker than her sunlight-evoking shade. As she lifted the top from the box, she sighed.

"Ahh, those look scrumptious," she said. "Chocolate-dipped strawberries - you shouldn't have!"

"Well, maybe not, but when Melissa showed me these, I knew they were going to be perfect for you," I said, smiling warmly. "Melissa brought in a batch to work."

"Oh, they are perfect, they are...do you mind terribly if I save them for later? I'm on a managed diet, and I can only eat certain things at certain times..."

"Diet? You? But you're perfect as you are, right now, darling!" I said, my asshole clenching. I didn't want her saving anything for later.

"Oh, thank you so much," she replied, her gratitude genuine and palpable, "For the compliment, as much as for the wonderful strawberries. But I know that if I eat one, then I'll eat two. And if I eat two, then I'll eat three...at least if I wait until Mark comes home, then I can persuade him to eat two, and it won't be so bad for my figure."

"Is he really that insistent that you always be perfect?" I asked her. I almost felt sorry for her.

"Kayce, I know that I'm a trophy wife," she said. "But all that means is that I'm valued by my husband for, well, skills and attributes different from his first wife's. It isn't as though my position is so different from thousands of other women, is it?" The look on her face was a mixture of a plea for understanding, and frank honesty at the nature of her marriage. I had to admire that second part, at least. The 'understanding' part, though, didn't matter in the least to me.

I had a job to do.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "Why don't we each eat two strawberries? That way, they won't lose their freshness, Mark will get a tiny punishment for, oh, whatever you think he should be punished for" - at this, we both giggled - "and I get to enjoy these delicious, juicy strawberries too? And I'll never tell Melissa!" Again, we both giggled at our mutual contemplated acts of deceit.

"That sounds ideal," Victoria said, daintily reaching into the small white cardboard box, and securing the biggest one between her thumb and forefinger, and then bringing it to her two, perfect, plump and red lips. Just before that perfect mouth opened to receive its due, she hesitated. She looked at me, then to the box.

"Kayce, you've got to eat one too, or what I'm doing is just gorging myself. If you eat along with me, it's sharing."

"I like that," I said hurriedly, as I picked out the smallest, and popped it halfway into my mouth, my teeth sinking through the creamy layer of chocolate, into the juicy fruit underneath. God, the metaphor was so strong in my mind, that I could feel my pussy wetting, imagining that it was Victoria's fat, plump, hot clitoris under my teeth, with her hot, sweet, fragrant cunt juices running from her pink slit equally into my mouth, and down her naked thigh.

"So good," she moaned, and I was startled back to the world, two women, one a working professional in her early thirties, the other, so unwitting as a bored trophy wife, in her early twenties, sitting in an attractive and richly decorated Manhattan condo, enjoying the fresh fruit of early summer, gilded with nature's own aphrodisiac and stimulant, creamy milk chocolate.

I looked up to see a thin line of chocolated saliva running from one corner of Victoria's mouth. In a different place, or a different time - say, in her bedroom in 30 minutes or so - I would gladly lick that stream of sweet goodness from her chin and lip, knowing that she had other glistening, wet flows like it for me. But instead, I giggled, and gestured at her chin.

"I know!" she crowed, struggling to keep it from dripping farther, perhaps staining her pure white top, her index finger serving as a makeshift napkin. She giggled, and I laughed, one of us innocent, the other...not.

She whooped, ran into the kitchen, returning quickly with two small, linen napkins. Handing me one, she said, "Those are so good!"

She wiped her chin daintily, as I said, "I know, right? Melissa has a calling. Sometimes I wonder which she's better at, skullduggery or cooking." I didn't mention how good she is when she combines the two. Victoria would find out, soon enough.

We talked about this and that. Victoria eating one strawberry would be good, two would be better, three would be perfection itself. She ate the second without even thinking about it, but when we both looked at the last of the four, sitting lonely in the box, I said, "Oh, I couldn't, I'm full...I had a big breakfast - a buffet at a business meeting." I saw her wavering, but I knew what she'd say...and she did.

"No, I said I'd stop at two...maybe we could save the last for Mark," though by the look on her face the strawberry probably wouldn't last much longer. Still, I couldn't take the chance. I didn't want anything lying around that could be analyzed later by someone.

"Why don't we split it?" I said. "I'll take a bite, then you..." She brightened at that. The decision was out of her hands, she couldn't be blamed if half of a strawberry added a pound or two to her hips, Kayce had forced her.

I bit into the bottom point of the berry, since the solution had been injected into the upper portions. "Mmm," I said, and then pushed the remnant over to her.

"Ahh," she exulted, as her teeth squashed chocolate, berry pulp, juice and the remainder of The Organization's solution onto her tongue, on its way down her throat, and then on to her brain. Because she had consumed it, instead of it being injected, it would take longer for the changes to begin...but they would occur. I was in no hurry. Her husband wouldn't return for several days.

"It's out of my hands too, now, Victoria," I thought to myself. "Weren't those so good?" I said to her.

"Oh yes," she said. "There's a confectionery store around the corner that carries those occasionally - usually Valentine's Day and such, but their berries are never as good. So, Melissa picked out the berries herself, and dipped them?" she enquired.

"Yes, and she's really a perfectionist about it," I said, leaving out the part about both Melissa and I being nude at the time she made them, and having hot sex during every stage of the process. No one really wants to hear about the personal hygiene at the places their food comes from, after they've eaten, do they? Well, with one or two exceptions, anyway.

For example, I'm very discriminating about the women whose pussies and ass holes I'll be licking. They have to be relatively clean, although a woman who's been exercising for hours before I pull down her sweat pants, and her hot, sweat-soaked panties, then spreading her slim thighs to expose her wet, red slit, hotly fragrant with the intertwined scents of her musky cunt, her dripping, salty sweat, and her 'pretty much clean' ass hole, is absolutely divine, and can be an exciting snack before indulging ourselves in further activities.

I imagined that Victoria's little pussy would be scrupulously clean and fresh, her tight, hopefully pink, ass hole similarly, since she and Mark had a bidet and I assumed she'd use it. I sighed, I think that a bidet takes away some of the charm of a woman's body in bed, but sometimes a woman can be persuaded to share her intimate scents, when the rewards for doing so are rich enough. For example, numerous mind-wrecking orgasms can be persuasive.

"Are you okay?" Victoria asked. I returned my attention to her, hiding my musings.

"Yes, why do you ask?" I replied, smiling.

"Oh...you were blurry for a second there..." she began.

"Excuse me?" I said.

She shook her head a little. "Why did I say that? That would be me, if you looked blurry, right?" She blinked several times, her pretty blue eyes seeming to go in and out of focus.

Temporary mental confusion, followed by near absolute obedience and heightened receptivity to sexual activity, particularly delicious lesbian sex, were the main effects of The Organization's nameless solution. Both Melissa and I had been exposed to it, as well as to a subsequent intense sapphic overload which seals the subject's loyalty to their conversion mistress - in this case, to me.

Victoria would respond to nearly anything that I asked her to do, perhaps including murder, though I had not yet taken it to that point. This was my first assignment, after all.

"Convert the wife of this particular international trader," I had been ordered, and was in the midst of doing.

But she would most definitely be willing to persuade her husband of anything I asked her, and that was the point of my assignment, and my visit to Victoria today.

Of course, as a converted lesbian myself, the process of converting Victoria, the "intense sapphic overload" part, would be rapturous - I'd be experiencing as many, if not more, exquisite orgasms as Victoria, as we pleasured each other. That is, assuming there were no glitches in the process. This was my first conversion of another woman in the field, aside from a young mother in a park, whom I had turned into a lesbian in the park's restroom, as part of my training.

"Are you feeling alright?" I asked her, a feigned look of concern on my face, taking her smooth hand in mine. "Perhaps you should lie down."

"Yes," she said slowly. "Could you excuse me?" she said, her words slurring slightly.

"I wouldn't think of leaving you alone," I said, as I thought, "leave you alone when you're primed to fuck? Not gonna happen, sweet thing."

I helped her to the bedroom, and she lay down on the satin duvet, the fabric creasing slightly under her 140 pounds or so. Victoria was much taller than me, at her model's height, 5' 10" tall, she carried her weight well. A good part of her weight was in her upper body - her breasts were fantastic. No doubt that her husband, Mark, had considered them when he was choosing a wife to replace his perfectly serviceable first wife. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind fucking her, either. Maybe something could be arranged with Victoria and I at some future date...

"Would you like me to lie down with you?" I asked. In her susceptible state, the suggestion was as good as a command.

"Okay," she said. "That would be nice." She subtly turned her body so that she would be facing toward me, just a little, when I lay down. I doubt that she was even conscious of the movement. I took off my jacket, and draped it over a chair back.

"I never noticed how beautiful your breasts are," she sighed.

I smiled, and sat on the bed, then lay down, my body closer to her than propriety would call for. She didn't seem to mind.

"I've always loved yours, too," I lied. Not that she didn't have outrageously beautiful breasts - they were full, maybe D cups, perky, just perfect. It was a lie, because until one month ago, I had no interest in other women's bodies, except to compare them against mine. But now, since my conversion to lesbianism as a member of The Organization, I thought constantly of other women's bodies, and the pleasure that they would bring me, and how I would bring pleasure to them.

I turned to face her better, and she mirrored my shift, until we were looking into each other's eyes. I stroked her forehead, brushing away some stray wisps of her silky blonde hair from over her eyes.

"Your eyes are beautiful," I whispered. She smiled.

"So are yours, so brown and deep...I could drown in them," she sighed, her lips parting.

"Your skin, so smooth and perfect," I breathed, as she angled her face upwards just a millimeter, her eyes closed. I brought my face to hers, and kissed her, lightly, on her cheek, just an inch away, diagonally from the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes opened, fully, her lashes fluttering slightly with her excitement, then her head lifted, again, just a millimeter, towards mine, and I sealed our movements, by bringing my moist lips to hers, so warm and loving. We sealed our kiss, our small sounds showing our mutual excitement and contentment at this turn of events, my tongue slipping from my slightly open mouth to her full lips, pressing there, seeking entry.

She moaned, her lips parting, her sweet, strawberry breath entering my mouth, as my slick tongue entered hers, and caressed her inside, her hips shaking with pleasure, her moans louder. I wondered idly if she had just cum. No matter, that would happen to her a lot before I left her bed again. I stretched out, and wriggled closer to her, my arm going around her to hold her against me, her hand then slipping over my arm to end up with her hand at the back of my head, holding our kiss close.

Finally, though, I broke our kiss, my cheek next to hers, feeling her breath, warm and moist, race over me. I pulled away further, and looked again into her eyes, now so soft and dreaming.

"I don't know what came over me," she said, her expression uncertain.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," she breathed, smiling tentatively. Then a light furrow in her forehead, a hint of wrinkle.

"But, Mark...I'm married, I shouldn't."

"You've never cheated on him?" I asked. I knew that she'd tell me the truth, she had no choice. Choice was a piece of history for her, an outdated, outmoded concept that she could no longer imagine.

"No," she said, nearly strident. "Never. I never thought of it, never wanted to."

"But now you want to," I said. She took it as a command. She had no choice.

"Now I want to," she repeated. She still looked uncertain, but not disobedient.

"Did you ever think of making love to another woman?" I asked her, curious. It made no difference in her conversion whether she had had lesbian fantasies or not. It was just something that I felt like being nosy about.

"No..." she said, hesitantly.

"But..." I replied, sensing...something, something that I could exploit, my lips pressing lightly on hers again.

"When I was modeling..." she said, dreamily.

"Tell me," I said, very interested now.

"There was another girl, a dark-haired girl from the city, from The Bronx," she said. "She was a latina, and beautiful. We roomed together, and I couldn't take my eyes off her when she changed her clothes. I looked at her in her bra and panties, and when she came from the bathroom after showering, in a big, white towel, her brown skin was so pretty." She paused, then, "her eyes were deep and brown, like yours."

"Did you do anything with her?" I asked.

"No," she said.

"Did you want to?" I asked.

"Yes, but I didn't know how," she said. "I waited until she left and...I touched myself."

"You masturbated, thinking of her?" I said. Victoria burrowed her face under my cheek, against the sheet, her arms around my head.

I felt her small nod go on and on.

"And do you want to masturbate now, thinking of her...and of me?" I felt her nod again, more strongly this time. I smiled.

"Well," I said, speaking in a motherly tone, and sitting up, "I think that you should be allowed to, don't you?"

Victoria looked up at me, bewildered at first. "How did I get to this?" she was probably thinking. Then, the solution in her system renewed its hold, and continued making changes inside her, and she relaxed.

"Yes," she said in a small voice.

"Would you like me to help you?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, her voice a little louder, a naughty smile trying to peek out. In some ways the solution makes a woman childish, while it's resetting her view of things. Victoria would not be going through the three day conversion that would bond a woman to both lesbianism and fealty to The Organization, so it was important that I make her experience here as erotic as possible, in order to cement her conversion to lesbianism, and her loyalty to me alone.

She would never know a thing about the Organization behind me, and responsible for the things we intended to make her do in the future.

"You want to be such a bad girl, don't you?" I asked her, in a mock scolding voice, as I stood, and began unbuttoning my blouse. "Bad girls like to see other girls naked, don't they?" Her hand had already gone to the crotch of her jeans, scratching against the fabric over her pussy and clit.

She nodded shyly, her eyes locked on my blouse, and my fingers.

"And they like to see other girls undressing, especially when the other girls don't know they're looking." Her fingers were wildly scratching now, the sensations on her clitoris muffled by the intervening jeans and panties. I had all the buttons undone, and I shifted into 'woman alone' mode, catering to Victoria's fantasy.

Speaking to the air, I began talking.

"Ah, I've just gotten home from school, mom and dad aren't here, whatever will I do? Well, I know the first thing, I've got to take my school uniform off and get in my play clothes. Let me take off this dumb old white blouse with the peter pan collar that the nuns make us wear...it's so dumb. "

"And this scratchy old training bra." I reached behind me under my open blouse and unhooked my bra, then slid it down my arms, pulling my arms from the sleeves to let the bra slip off. Facing Victoria, I cupped my medium sized breasts in my hands, squeezing and caressing them, and pinching my nipples.

"I hope my breasts get bigger," I said, in a little girl voice. "They're so small, I don't think anyone can tell I'm growing up. I heard that story that if you lick another girl's big breasts, yours will get big too, I wonder if it's true." I shrugged childishly, then in a very big girl way, slowly stripped off my blouse, allowing Victoria to see my breasts in profile, and how stiff my nipples were.

I heard her unzip her jeans, but avoided looking at her just yet, wanting to keep her fantasy alive. I imagined though, that her fingers were probably swimming in a hot lake of girly goo, and my mouth began watering.

"I'd better get my school skirt off, I don't want it to get wrinkled."

I slipped it off, followed by my half slip, leaving me in bikini panties alone, then slowly pirouetted in my panties, letting Victoria get a full, long eyeful of my pussy and my bottom. Then I bent over, my ass facing her, to squeeze my legs as I rose up, and yawned and stretched.

"Oh! I'm so tired, maybe I should lie down," I said, then walked over to the bed, gazing down at Victoria, squeezing a breast through her tee with one hand, the other thrust inside her jeans and panties, her fingers very obviously fucking in and out of her gushing cunny. Her hips shook with pleasure, and her eyes were wild with passion.

I didn't need to keep up the pretense anymore.

"I want to lick your body all over, sweetheart," I cooed, as I got onto the bed at the foot, and crawled up her length, straddling her slim body as I did. I dipped my head between her legs, at the rapidly moving crotch of her jeans, and inhaled deeply. "Mmm, I smell a hot...wet...excited pussy, just ready to eat."