"I know that, but I thought you should make an effort with your personal presentation as well. Andrew was very mean making you go without underwear in front of all those people, so I sent you a present. It's a sort of wish you well gift from me to you so I'd be very upset if you decided not to accept it. Let me know how you get on." The phone went dead.
Once the initial shock and suspicion had subsided, Laura pulled the silk bow and lifted the lid from the box. Carefully lifting the white tissue paper revealed just what Amelia had promised, a beautiful set of underwear in black silk. Laura smiled as the relief flooded through her. She removed the bra from the box and her breath caught; the modifications were slight but frightful. She took out the panties and they too made her heart rate quicken. How could they expect her to wear those, today of all days.
Voices from outside the door brought her thoughts back to the impending presentation. With no desire to disappoint Amelia she slipped her arms through the straps of the bra leaned forward to settle herself into the tight cups and pulled the clasp tight at the back.
The blunted tacks set in the fabric pressed into her skin. Those in direct contact with her nipples were more uncomfortable but should be bearable unless the nipples hardened from the stimulation creating a never ending cycle of pain and arousal. The panties were also slightly too small for her causing the tacks set into the crotch area to have the same effect on her lower lips.
As Laura checked herself in the mirror, the reflection confirmed her suspicions, the bumps of the suspender belt holding up the tan stockings were showing beneath the fabric of her skirt. She turned to the side and admired the effect. The underwear was a turn on to the new-found exhibitionist within her but not to the tortured lips and nipples which were paying the price. Remain calm she told herself and it would pass, and remember not to sit down if at all possible.
When the time came she took three large, calming breaths and opened the office door.
"Are you ready? Good luck, I'm sure you'll do fine," Abbie said, as Laura passed her desk. Suspecting that Abbie somehow knew her secret made Laura blush. Don't be silly, she couldn't possibly know she told herself, the only visible signs were the bumps in her skirt, and that was not so unusual these days as more and more women were wearing stockings. Abbie detected her unease.
"Are you OK?" She asked.
"Yes of course," Laura assured her, "just a little nervous."
Most people were already seated at the large conference table when Laura entered. All eyes seemed to turn in her direction and she panicked, convinced that they could all see right through her clothing, see the tight underwear and the cruel tacks biting into her tender skin. It took all of her willpower to overcome the urge to scamper back to her office, making up some excuse about feeling unwell, an unexpected emergency, anything to avoid the gaze of all those knowing eyes.
Her logical mind however, overcame the irrational fears and she gently lowered herself into her seat at the table. You're just being over sensitive she told herself. On any other day they would have all turned and looked as you walked in, we all do it, it's natural.
Sitting through the other presentations seemed to take forever, all the financial mumbo jumbo and legal gobbledygook meant nothing to her, and she'd heard it all before. She wanted it to end but knew that when it did it would be her turn to stand and be the centre of attention. They were bound to notice the outline of her stockings and belt, if they hadn't already, and she would have to avoid the urge to twist her shoulders and squeeze together her thighs in a desperate attempt to ease the rapidly growing discomfort of the tacks.
Amelia's devilish mind had to be admired: it was a slowly progressive torture, increased by Laura's own reaction to it. As with the compulsion to scratch an insect bite, she couldn't resist the urge to discretely slide her hand under the table to press the cursed tacks into the sore flesh of her lips. On one occasion a barely audible cry escaped her mouth causing the gentleman next to her to turn his head. Her sweet smile placated his concern and she pretended to concentrate on the speaker.
An inordinate amount of wishing failed to make the time pass more slowly and eventually her turn arrived. The others had enjoyed the luxury of remaining seated as they explained the content of their handouts. Laura had to stand to point out the features of her presentation on the screen.
Rising from her seat caused the tacks to bite deeper, sending a delicious wave of pain and arousal through her body, and despite her best efforts to prevent it the flow seemed to focus on the over-sensitive nub throbbing between her legs. In that brief but significant moment something changed. The physical pleasure her body received from those cursed tacks overcame the anxiety and uncertainty. A rebellious pride swept through her, establishing a new-found confidence in herself and in her ability to endure the effects of her hidden torture.
The applause and compliments she received at the end of her presentation were well deserved--she knew it had been one of her best. The many practice runs had paid off, allowing her mind to drift to other matters without compromising the impact. She had fun speculating what the colleagues and guests would think if they were privy to her secret, if they knew the torture her nipples were suffering or could imagine the pleasure she received from overcoming the burning between her legs.
Would any of those men get hard, she asked herself, or would they be appalled at her disgusting behaviour. Several times she had caught them staring at her legs and the outline of her underwear. If only you knew, she thought, if only you could see the merciless tacks working their way into the skin of my freshly shaven lips and mound, then you'd have some material to use in your fantasies. Then she glanced around at the women, would they consider her weird or would they envy her predicament. According to Amelia there were lots of women who craved that sort of defilement, were any of them in front of her in that meeting? What secrets were being played out before her? How many of these bodies were being mistreated on the orders of another? Laura didn't really care--as long as hers was. As long as she was part of the game and paying the price, she was happy.
Never before had she wished for a meeting to end as quickly as possible. Normally she enjoyed the post business informality, meeting people, catching up with news, picking up useful information and contacts. And she did it on that occasion just as she would any other, despite the desperate need to race to her office and remove the source of the burning in her private parts.
"What do you think of Broughton's problems with all the new regulations then?" Asked lovely old Henry Mercer.
With half a box of thumb-tacks burning holes in my nipples and fanny, I don't really give a shit at the moment Henry, actually came out as "Oh I'm sure they'll get round it, they always do. Anyway how's Celia these days, I haven't seen her for ages?"
Eventually the meeting broke up and the guests began to drift away, leaving assurances of their satisfaction and their gratitude. When an appropriate opportunity presented itself Laura left the few remaining colleagues and headed for the refuge of her office.
As soon as the door closed she fished the phone from her bag and called Amelia. No answer. Shit. The second and third attempt were also unsuccessful. For the twenty minutes she sat at her desk, legs apart in a desperate attempt to relive the pressure, her mind begged Amelia to answer.
Snatching up the phone before the second ring had finished, relief flooded through her.
"Amelia, oh thank God."
"Is everything OK? You sound flustered." There did seem to be genuine concern in her voice.
"Amelia I'm in agony, can I take these things off now, please?" There was an awful pause which Laura dreaded ending with the word no.
"You mean you've still got them on? Oh Laura, I knew you were cut out for this. You could have decided when to take them off--as soon as you'd finished the task I'd have thought." Laura was lost for words and felt more than a little foolish.
"But, I just thought..." she stumbled for an explanation. "I just assumed that I needed permission, that's all."
