The Silken Pt. 02

In the silence of Gina's office, her fingertips whispered up and down the black pantyhose the junior associate was wearing. "You love this, don't you, Mark?" she asked.

As Gina's hand moved from his legs to his cock, Mark breathed in sharply. Sitting in her office chair, wearing only sheer-to-waist, coffee-colored hose and a pair of open-toe heels herself, it pleased Gina to see his young dick strain against the material.

"Yes," he said through the nylon stocking pulled over his head.

The office's blinds were closed. No one on the darkening streets of Arclight would know what went on in one of the town's more prestigious boutique law firms, or be able to see how one of its successful attorneys was using the hired help for her pleasure.

Hard to believe it had only been three weeks since Gina had went into a local store, "The Silken", to get out of the rain. It was then that Cheryl, the young Korean-American woman working there, had given Gina a pair of special pantyhose.

At the time, Gina had thought it simple kindness. After all, the hose that Gina had on had been soaked in the rain, and had a run in them.

It had turned out that Cheryl's gift of the black pantyhose with the gold thread at the seam was the ultimate act of kindness. Those hose changed the wearer female, or as she would learn by playing with Mark, male. They would work by simply wearing them on your legs, if given enough time. But they would work much faster if they were pulled over the victim's head so that the hose's power could more quickly reach the future slave's mind. An orgasm while wearing the special nylon would bind that person to what Gina now knew The Silken: the ever-growing family of pantyhose-encased slaves.

Gina's hand gripped Mark's shaft now through his pantyhose. Mark groaned, and this pleased Gina. She began to run the fingers of her free hand along her hose-covered slit. "You love wearing your nylon mask, too, don't you, Mark?"

"Yes, I do," he said. In the office's dim light, Gina saw pre-cum in his hose.

"I know you do, Mark. You see, wearing a pantyhose mask is a sign of your submission to me."

"Yes, Mistress. I love it."

Gina began fingering herself harder through her nylons. There was just something about being called "Mistress." She was finding that anyone that had enslaved another was that person's master or Mistress. In that way, Cheryl was Gina's Mistress; Cheryl's mother was Cheryl's Mistress.

As near as Gina could tell, Cheryl's mother was the one behind it all, the woman who had created the gold-threaded hose, sold them at her high-end hosiery boutique, and so enslaving (or was it liberating?) one-by-one to the good citizens of Arclight. Cheryl's mother was thus the true Mistress to them all.

Still, while Cheryl's mother may be the one all The Silken worshiped, there was something uniquely intimate in being someone's personal Mistress, hearing them say that powerful word in reference to her. Gina had realized that she wanted to hear her daughter Laura call her "Mistress" as well, just like Cheryl did with her own mother.

The past few weeks had been practice for Laura's seduction. She considered this as she kept stroking Mark's cock.

"Does this cock want to cum, Mark?"

"Yes, Mistress. It wants to cum so bad."

"Not yet, Mark," Gina said, smiling. "You have to be good while I stroke this nice, big, pantyhose-encased dick of yours. I don't want you making a spermy mess in your hose just yet."

There was no gold thread shooting through the nylon seam that covered the dick Gina now toyed with, nor through the pantyhose Mark wore over his face. No need for the special hose now. The handsome, late-twenties attorney had been hers for a while.

Gina still remembered Cheryl giving her several pairs of the special hose.

"Do you have any queen-plus sizes?" Gina had asked, looking at the packaging's size labels.

Cheryl had been dressed only in a pair of suntan hose herself, her pussy sobbing wet from Gina licking it mere moments before. Cheryl had asked, "Won't those be a bit big for your daughter? I remember that picture you showed me. She's a younger version of you."

Gina knew how thin and pretty her daughter was, and appreciated the compliment Cheryl had just paid her. "Our relationship has gotten bad since her father died. That's why I want Laura's seduction to be perfect. Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?" Gina had said. "There's a tall, muscled junior associate in my office that I've seen looking at my legs ever since he was hired last year. I think his legs would look wonderful in hose. I know they'd feel wonderful rubbing against mine."

Even through the nylon slave mask she had on, Gina had seen the look of concern on Cheryl's face. "If he's that strong, you may need help getting the hose on him."

"No, I think seducing a man will be easier than taking a woman."

"How?" Cheryl had asked.

"I know he wants to fuck me. I'll just get him hot one night after work, then tell him I'm a pervert and only like being fucked by men in hose. I was married to a wonderful man. I know guys. They'll do anything for sex," Gina had explained.

Gina's heart beat faster seeing Cheryl's smile. "I knew you were going to be a natural at this."

A day later, Gina had asked Mark to stay late at the office. "I need to get ready for a deposition next week, and could use the help," Gina had told him.

"Sure, I'd love to help you with whatever you need," he had said, not even caring about the suggestiveness of his comment. He was an attractive guy, and even if Gina was a little older, she was hot. She had nice legs, a great ass. But they'd worked late nights together before, and nothing had happened then. It reasoned that nothing would happen again, Mark had figured, other than flirting.

She'd contacted him over the office intercom that night only after everyone else had gone home. "Can you come to my office? I'm ready to get started."

"Be right there," Mark had said.

When he had entered her office, Gina had been sitting on her desk, nylon-encased legs coyly crossed. "Hi," she'd said.

Suddenly Mark had started to think that there could be more than flirting on the night's agenda.

He liked the job, or at least the money he it paid, and didn't want to lose it. His sister worked for the firm too, and he didn't want to endanger her job either.

On the other hand, he told himself, how often does one get to fuck the boss? Worse case scenario he had to leave, and she'd have to write a glowing reference to avoid a sexual harassment claim. Best case, they'd start something semi-regular, and he could fuck her at the office from time-to-time.

Either way, it wouldn't be a lifetime commitment. He'd decided to see how far this would go, and closed the door. "Hi, yourself."

"Are you ready to get started on that deposition?"

He looked her straight in the eye. She had been wearing more eyeliner than usual, heightening her exoticism. "I'll do anything you want me to do."

"Soon enough," she'd said. "First, we need to talk about something else: I've been noticing you looking at my legs a lot."

That had embarrassed Mark. Being a lawyer, he'd tried to obfuscate the issue. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean."

"Don't play dumb, Mark. I've seen you looking at me. All the time. I didn't ask you here for a sexual harassment seminar. I just want to know why."

If she'd noticed him looking, he had realized, then she knew the answer. Mark had always been so confident in court, but now felt awkwardly boyish. He was handsome, had slept with a lot of women, but at his core he remembered how he'd been as a kid, getting into his mom's hosiery drawer. He'd still felt shame about it, had spent a lifetime erecting an edifice of cool success to hide the embarrassed child within. "You just have nice legs," he'd said.

"Do you like my stockings? I find a lot of men's eyes linger whenever a woman is wearing pantyhose."

"Yes," Mark had confessed, looking at the floor.

"It's okay, Mark," she's said, crossing then re-crossing her legs. "I wear pantyhose because I like the attention. More specifically, I like your attention."

Mark had looked up. "Do you want more of my attention?"

"Come over here." She had taken his hand, placed it on her legs. "It's better to feel than just to look, isn't it, Mark?"

He had gone flush. "Yes."

"Kiss me."

Mark had, rubbing her legs harder as he did. Feeling the material, and her hot tongue in his mouth, Mark's dick had become hard enough to cut glass.

Eventually, Gina had broken the kiss and stood up. Turning her back to him, she had bent slightly over her desk. "Can you help me with my skirt?"

Mark had unfastened the hook, then slid down the zipper. Gina's skirt had fallen around her spiked heels, exposing her nylon-clad ass. The seam of her hose had run perfectly down its center, as though they had been machined to her body.

"No panties?" he'd asked, honestly surprised.

"Don't you like how I look in nylon without any ugly cotton obstructing the view?" she's said, wiggling her ass at him.

"God, yes," Mark had said. Then, staring at her nylon-encased lower body, he saw that the seam of her hose was torn. Right at her crotch.

Mark had begun fumbling with his zipper, pulled his erect cock out, but Gina had turned to him. "Not yet."

"What? Why?"

"You're not dressed appropriately," she had explained. Her purse had been on her desk. Mark watched as she pulled out a pair of hose. "Put these on."

He had looked at her. "Are you serious?"

"Do you want to fuck me or not? Judging by your dick, you do, but there's an entrance fee. I only want a real pervert, otherwise I'll be bored. Prove you're worthy." She had drawn close to him, rubbed the pantyhose she held against his cock. "You like looking at them. You like touching them. You'll love wearing them. I promise. Put them on."

The nylon against his dick, the sensation was amazing.

"Okay," he'd quickly said.

He had taken the hose from her and stripped. Kicking off his shoes, he'd unbuckled his belt, taken off his boxers, pants, and socks.

Gina had begun unbuttoning her blouse. It had slipped to the floor, and Mark had seen that she wasn't wearing a bra, but that her hose were pulled them up over her tits.

"Go on, Markie. Get dressed for me."

Naked, he'd sat on the leather couch, looked at the hose for a second. He'd noticed a gold thread at the seam only because it stood out against the coffee-hue of the hose, but didn't think anything of it. Then he'd bunched one leg of the hose up at his foot before pulling it up to his thigh.

It had felt good, being encased. Then he began pulling the hose up his other leg.

"You put those on like you've done it before," Gina had said with a laugh.

Mark hadn't said anything to her playful comment. The truth was, he had tried on his mother's pantyhose. A few times, in fact. He'd liked the feeling then, to his eternal shame. Pulling the nylons up over his dick and ass in front of Gina, it felt like a homecoming.

Mark had stood then, showing off his shaft through the nylon.

"Mmmmm, you look good," Gina had said. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Amazing, actually." He'd been surprised how powerful the hose made him feel. The hose felt incredible against his skin, firmly encasing him. Almost as they were gently guiding him. He hadn't ever felt so sexual in his entire life.

"One more thing and your outfit will be complete," Gina had said, taking another pair of the hose from her purse.

"What are those for?"

"Your head. Wear it like you're a robber. You can pretend like you're raping me."

By then, it had felt like if anyone even breathed hard on his dick he'd cum. These hose had matched the ones on his legs, right down to the golden thread worming its way through the center seam. He'd quickly pulled them over his face, and sighed pleasantly.

"Do you like your pantyhose mask, Mark?" Gina had asked, stroking him.

It actually felt great having the hose over his head. "Yes."

"What's it feel like?"

It had been hard for him to explain. It was like a woman's fingers running through his hair, and then into his mind, massaging any self-disgust or doubt away. The fact he'd worn them wasn't something to be ashamed of, but the most natural thing in the world.

"I just feel... like I belong here," he'd said.

"No. You belong inside me."

With that, Gina had guided him back to the couch, pulled the waistband of his hose down to free his cock. Squatting above him, she'd impaled his dick through her hose's cut-out gusset, and into her yearning pussy.

Mark had yelled, feeling her tight, slick wetness encase him. "Oh, fuck!"

She'd begun riding him, placing her hands on either side of his pantyhose mask, as if afraid he'd tear it off.

She needn't have worried. Of all the women he'd ever fucked, none had made him feel like this. He had wondered if the mask was slightly cutting off his oxygen, making him feel high.

Was he in danger? He'd suddenly felt like this had all gone too perfectly, like this was all some kind of a trap Gina had laid for him.

Except she was a woman, he a man. He could take anything she threw at him if it were some kind of trap. Besides, it just felt so fucking good.

"Tell me what you're thinking, Markie," Gina had commanded between thrusts.

Mark had been going to pick up on the robber-rape scene Gina had suggested when she'd handed him the pantyhose mask, but something else had suddenly asserted itself.

It had been somewhat like he'd felt when he first put on the mask, massaging away his shame. If there's nothing to be ashamed of, why not tell her? Mark thought.

"I'm thinking about when I was home from college on Christmas break. I'd taken a pair of my girlfriend's hose before break, like a keepsake for when I wouldn't see her I'd told myself, but really that wasn't it. She'd been really tall, on the varsity volleyball team. Her hose would fit me. I tried them on that Christmas, when no one was home," Mark had said, so turned on by the memory he'd licked the inside of his mask after uttering it.

Gina had kept jamming herself on him. "I like that, Markie. Tell me more. What else do you remember about that? Think hard."

He'd been about to tell her how he jagged off on the hose, watched fascinated as the seed from his first orgasm strained through the nylon.

Except whatever had been massaging his thoughts had seemed to be molding them, and he remembered something that didn't actually happen. Or did it?

The feeling of Gina on his shaft, of the pantyhose on his body, and now in his mind, Mark hadn't been able to stop from telling her what he was thinking.

"My mother," Mark began uncertainly. "I'd been wrong. She'd still been home, had walked in while I had the hose on."

Gina's sweat had been falling onto his bare chest, her hose slick against his. "What did you do? I need details."

"I tried to hide, like an embarrassed kid," Mark had said, the memory rooting itself deeper into him, "but she found me in the closet. She told me to come out."

"What did she do when she found her naughty, nylon boy, Markie?"

"She told me that I hadn't done anything wrong, and led me by the hand from the closet. She sat me on her bed. I wanted to get something to throw over myself. My boner was so big in my hose, even after she found me, and I was embarrassed."

"What happened then?" Gina's manicured hands had moved from Mark's nylon-stockinged head to her nipples, and she twisted them like stubborn bottle-tops as she continued ramming Mark into her.

"She must have just gotten home from work and was still in her suit. She was wearing black pantyhose. She said she liked pantyhose, too, that it was a family trait. Then she lifted her skirt to show me how much she liked them, and I saw that she wasn't wearing panties."

"Mmmm--tell me more."

Mark had been speaking compulsively, the memory fully created by his slave-mask: "Mommy said that since I liked her hose so much, maybe I'd like to touch them while she was wearing them. I did and it felt so good and I was getting so hard. Mommy pulled down my hose, grabbed by dick. With her free hand, she popped a hole in the crotch of her hose, then positioned me on top of her."

"What did you do when you were on top of your mommy?"

"Her legs locked around my pantyhose-covered ass, and she guided my dick into her. And... and I was fucking her," Mark had practically shouted through his nylon mask, "I was fucking my mommy right through her pantyhose and she was telling me how much she liked it, and I came, my young cum shooting into her mommy-cunt, and... oh fucking Christ, I can't hold it!!

His cum load had shot into Gina's pussy as she had kept riding him, milking his seed. Gina had watched through his mask as Mark's eyes fluttered, rolled back into his head, his orgasm so intense he'd passed out.

Gina had looked at him, The Silken's newest member, her first victim, and the first man whose cum she'd had since her husband passed away. She'd felt so alive. And now that Mark's memories had been rewritten to think he'd done something so perverted as having pantyhose sex with his mother, why, he'd be capable of anything.

Especially making other pantyhose slaves.

With Mark a slave the past several weeks, work had become a joy. Gina still worked as hard as ever. Even as a slave there were still bills to pay, the most important being to provide for her eighteen-year-old daughter. It was good, though, to have something to look forward to at the end of the day. In this case, it was having a man ten years her junior fucking her through her hose, while yelling that she was his Mistress as his cock pumped its seed into her womb.

"Oh fuck," Gina whispered now, still working her pussy while playing with Mark's dick. She was close to orgasm.

"Mistress, may I cum please?" Mark begged, standing straight with his dick sticking out like a flagpole off a Manhattan skyscraper.

"Soon, darling, soon."

Just then, the door to Gina's office opened.

Anyone walking in at that moment would have been in for quite a sight. A beautiful, late-thirties Asian woman, lithe and tone, wearing only a pair of coffee-colored pantyhose and high heels. Her dress crumpled on the floor, her legs spread wide while rubbing her pantyhose pussy with her left hand, her right on the thick cock of an athletically-built man who was wearing black pantyhose, a matching pair pulled over his head to make a mask.

It was an image that would have left someone in shock.

Unless they had already been taken by The Silken.

From her chair, more a queen's throne now, Gina regarded the twenty-two-year-old woman now entering.

"Mistress," the girl said simply through her pantyhose mask, her long blonde hair spilling out from underneath it.

The girl was wearing a simple wool skirt which she shed after she closed the office door behind her. With the skirt on the floor, one could see her smooth pussy through the sheer black hose. Next, she pulled off her sweater, and unbuttoned the blue shirt underneath. Both fell to the floor silently.

She was about 5' 6" with an athletic build at her arms and legs, which seemed somewhat incongruous with the soft heaviness of her breasts. They poured out when she unhooked her black lace bra, and let it too fall to the carpet.

"Amy, you look lovely this evening. So glad you could stay late again."

"I'm always happy to put in long hours for you," Amy said as she approached Gina and Mark wearing nothing but the hose on her face and legs, and a pair of black, high-heeled boots.