Ms. Josephs Adventure

Ms. Josephs first appeared in the 3 part story "I call her L" which detailed the fictitious adventure between Addictedtonylon and his editor. Ms. Josephs, and her new found desires are now a spin-off from those stories. This story was edited by LSEiland.

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It was late one day, just before my staff was ready to leave. The phone rang at 4:45 pm; I was doing routine paperwork in my office, all the patients had left.

Rita, my office manager called in to me. "It's a lady named Ms. Josephs calling. She says it's important to talk to you. That you would know what it is about."

I smiled, knowing Ms. Josephs was the store supervisor at TJ Maxx. "Sure, put her through." My Literotica editor, who I simply call L instead of LS Eiland, had included her as part of a conspiracy to embarrass me into writing a new story. She required me to purchase all kinds of lingerie while standing in line at TJMaxx. L has now returned home, but encouraged her co-conspirators to use me for whatever fantasies they wanted to fulfill.

"Hello Addicted, L said I could call you, is that okay?" she said somewhat haltingly, as if searching for the proper words, revealing hesitancy in her voice.

"Hello Ms. Josephs. It has been a few weeks since we last met at your store, hasn't it? I was so embarrassed," I said to her. "Is there something we need to talk about?" I was aware that L had encouraged the ladies to pursue their fantasies, and wanted me to report back to her about any encounters I might have.

"Well Addicted, there is something I need from you. I have this fantasy and need you to help me act it out." I could now detect some temerity in her voice. Ms. Josephs was about 45 years old. While she was not terribly attractive in the store, the right makeup, hairstyling, and clothing would make her a stunning woman. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring when I met her before, the extent of what I knew about her.

She then added, "Seeing you tied up, being spanked by L aroused me, like I hadn't been in years. Would you like to tie me up?" she said forthrightly, her voice now with a hint of mischievousness.

Ahh, just what I was hoping for,

I thought to myself.

After pausing, and acting as if taken aback by her request, I answered, "If I do, it must be part of a night long scenario, one in which you will be treated as a sophisticated woman, but bound nonetheless." The thoughts of our evening started to formulate in my brain.

She seemed to have a newfound reluctance, despite her success in overcoming the initial inhibition in calling me. "I don't want to do anything too kinky, at least to begin. You know, I am just starting to experiment since you and L brought out my dark side."

"Let's pick a weekend, and I will send your instructions. I think we're going to do this in Philadelphia, so you will be completely unhampered in fulfilling your desires." I then added, "Just you and me."

"Are you sure we have to travel so far?" she asked.

I responded to her question. "Ms. Josephs, being anonymous is one of the great liberators. It allows you to lead a life, at least temporarily, that you could otherwise not imagine. Assuming an entire new persona, one that is completely unfettered with your past life, acting naughty and feeling perverted is all part of the fantasy I intend to create for you."

I could hear her breathing over the phone. I was aware she might be masturbating at this time, so I asked her, "Are you playing with yourself, Ms. Josephs?"

"Oh Addicted, just a little. You are making me very excited. I...I...I didn't know I was capable of this, not until L talked with me and said it was alright," she stuttered.

"I will drop off your instructions at the store in a red envelope with your name on it. If you decide not to participate, let me know. Otherwise, I expect you to follow the instructions prepared precisely."

I planned for the weekend two weeks from now. We would meet in Philadelphia at the Barnes Art Museum at 3 p.m. I told her what I wanted her to wear; a professional business suit, her skirt hemmed four inches above her knee. The jacket of the suit would suffice, no blouse, just a bra. Her heels should be red with three-inch heels. I instructed her to go to a downtown department store, and have one of the makeup consultants do a complete makeover prior to meeting me. I included $100, and instructed her to go to a salon for a new hairstyle, chosen by the stylist in anticipation of the night.

On the prescribed day, she was waiting for me outside the Museum. She was hardly recognizable from the person who was the supervisor at TJMaxx. She wore a black business suit with tan stockings and 3-inch patent leather red heels. I met her at the front of the museum. Her hair had been styled attractively, with randomly placed spikey curls, an extremely foxy style, and blond highlights. Her makeup included mauve eye shadow and mascara highlighting her eyes enticingly. She had crimson lipstick and acrylic nails. Ms. Josephs must have talked to L, who told her acrylic nails were a real turn on for me. She looked absolutely resplendent, and I knew her newfound nefarious behavior would prevail. The aura she radiated was sentient of her highly charged sexuality.

"Follow just a few steps behind me, never in front of me," I instructed her. I brought a black ribbon choker necklace, which I placed around her neck. It had a loop attached, which I tugged on briefly. "I will need this later," I added. What is your first name?"

"Zelda." she answered forlornly, as if this was a major hindrance to her enjoying the evening.

"I like it, very mysterious," I reassured her, "but I will call you Ms Josephs to keep our activities with a degree of formality and mission."

We toured the Museum together, slowly looking at the art works. The click of her high heels was like an old grandfather clock, clicking down the seconds until the rendezvous as she followed me as I wandered from room to room. Despite her prior matronly appearance, she was now transformed into a woman of class and sophistication, erotic by appearance alone, and very attractive. I lingered by the Renoir nudes, as she stood closely behind me. I never again acknowledged her presence, giving the appearance to others as fulfilled her role of an artsy concubine.

We entered a room in the museum that was unoccupied. I turned around to face her and said, in a commanding voice, "Take off your panties."

She started to look around, as if trying to find the ladies room, so supplied further instructions.

"Right here," I told her as I was aware of her intent.

"I can't do that here, somebody could see me," she countered to my command. "My panties are underneath my garter belt, so I would have to readjust the garters to take them off."

"Perfect," I stated.

There was a chair in the corner the room. She went over, sat down and started to surreptitiously reach under her skirt and reattach each garter underneath her panties to allow their removal. I stared at her, as this was her first challenge of the afternoon. The room remained empty, but she kept staring at the doors, her head turning from one to the other in anticipation of somebody entering the room in her current predicament. Then, she noticed a patron enter the room, and she quickly pulled down her skirt, smoothing it so as to conceal her activities, but one stocking had been ungartered and the welt apparent on her thigh. She tried to appear nonchalant despite a curious stare. He moved on to the next room after staring at her leg and she resumed her manipulations.

There were three garters on each leg. After fumbling for several minutes, she slipped her panties off and brought them to me with a large grin. She took a brief bow, holding the panties in front of my face between two fingers as she presented them to me. She seemed so proud of herself for this accomplishment.

She announced, "Here you are, sir, as instructed."

After 90 minutes in the museum, an announcement was made about it closing. We went to the Four Seasons Hotel across the street. Again Ms. Josephs lagged slightly behind, out of my peripheral vision. I had already stored the items I would need for the night under the bed in the room. We had a cocktail at the bar. I stood and had her sit on a barstool, the seat very small. She had adjusted her skirt, so her now bare buttocks were in direct contact with the cool leather seat. The welt at the top of her stockings was apparent, as was the impression of the clasp on her skirt. Despite readjusting her skirt, she could not hide the fact she was wearing stockings. Ms. Josephs alluringly sipped at her martini, leaving a hint of her lipstick on the edge of the glass. I had ordered a scotch, and gave her a toast. "Here's to your night of adventure."

I started to find out more about her. Ms. Josephs had been divorced from an unpleasant marriage that never fulfilled her. Her previous husband had been quite wealthy, but she was forced to sign a prenuptial agreement, leaving her with nothing after they divorced. Therefore, she assumed her job as a supervisor at TJMaxx. Now at 45, she found it difficult to meet men and had resorted primarily to Internet romances. Ms. Josephs had been afraid to reveal her submissive desires to a stranger on the internet. When she was asked by L to participate, it reawakened those sexual urges.

Ms. Josephs and I made our way to the Fountain restaurant, where we dined on wonderful cuisine. She ate slowly, anticipating, if not subconsciously postponing what might be her fate tonight. I felt her stocking toes rub on my leg during the dinner, a more mischievous smile coming over her face. Her lips were seductive, adorned with perfectly applied lipstick, slightly glossy. During the dinner, she was starting to create a new mood with her submission, asking permission to sample each course. Whenever I spoke with her, she would answer "Yes sir," with a slight pause between words as if she was learning a new language and uncertain of the words.

We shared a delightful dark chocolate mousse for dessert. While I was eating with a spoon, Ms. Josephs took a ladyfinger cookie, dipped it in the mousse and suggestively licked the chocolate off the cookie as she stared into my eyes. She allowed the chocolate to remain on her tongue, her mouth parted as she swirled her tongue in her mouth. An aperitif completed the meal.

"Here is the key card, go up to the room and I will join you soon." I handed her the plastic card that would permit entry to the room. I also had handed her an envelope. "Enclosed in this envelope is a piece of paper with a word. That is the safe word. When you say it, any further activities will stop and you will be released. Use it carefully, as there is no reconsideration once spoken."

Ms. Josephs got up from the table, placing her napkin on her seat. She walked over to me and whispered in my ear, "Whatever you say, sir." She handed me back the unopened envelope. "I don't have any need for a safe word."

Ms. Josephs kissed me firmly on the lips, while simultaneously reaching down to my crotch, rubbing my now hardened cock through my pants. "Oh, excuse me, sir." I handed her a new pair of panties, bright red, which she needed to wear. "Ooh, thank you, sir."

When I arrived at the room, Ms. Josephs had already removed her outer clothing. She was standing with her gossamer mesh bra, an elegant black 6-strap garter belt, her tan stockings with a darker welt and fine blue line around the stocking, and her shiny red heels. She had put on the matching bright red panties, the elasticity of them made for a tight package on her spectacularly fit body. I remained in my suit and tie. It was now dark outside. I dimmed the lights in the room. One side featured a full-length window with drapes pulled. I had requested satin sheets on the bed and that request had been met.

"Are you ready for some mischief, Ms. Josephs?" I whispered in her ear.

"Ready for what, sir?" She was trying to be innocent at the start, a temptress nonetheless.

I positioned her facing the large picture window and spread her legs by pressing on the insides of her thighs, where the stocking still covered her skin. I brought out two lengths of red shibari rope from under the bed. I carefully coiled one rope tightly around her right ankle, assuring the coils were uniform and close fitting. The left ankle was similarly bound. A spreader bar was attached to one of her ankles with a hook on the rope.

"Oh, sir, what is that you're doing?" She said in her innocent voice. "I didn't expect you to have brought such a device. I have only seen these on porn sites. This is going to leave my privates so vulnerable."

I didn't say a word, just attached the cuff to the left ankle. Her legs were now about two feet apart, just so she could stand comfortably in her high heels. I smoothed her stockings over her legs, lingering with my fingertips at the top welt, walking my fingers to the edge of her pubic hairs. They had been trimmed to a thin ribbon.

I then faced Ms. Josephs, reached behind, and undid her bra. Her breasts were clearly her best feature, two delightful mounds of flesh, nicely firm with unusually large brown areola. Despite her age, she had no sag in her breasts. I pulled out two nipple clamps which had been kept in a filled ice bucket. The two clamps were connected by a gold chain. Upon placing each clamp, I was gentle, but could see an immediate effect, causing crenulation of the nipple to a tasty looking nubbin adherent to the pads. I attached the chain to her neck choker, heightening her luridly submissive appearance.

"Put your hands behind your back." I commanded in a staid, unemotional voice, giving her no opportunity for negotiation.

"What are you going to do next, sir?" She emphasized the last word, absconding into the world of bondage willingly.

I took a length of shibari red silk rope, and gathered her wrists together. "I have to secure you; you know that, Ms. Josephs."

I started at her wrists, leaving her hands freed. I wrapped the rope closely from her wrists to her elbows, than tied the two ends in a knot. Above her, barely noticeable, was the fire sprinkler with the protective cage over the top. With the help of a footstool, I climbed and ran the rope through the cage. As I pulled on the rope, first her arms rose upward. This forced her gradually to assume a semi-bent position, so her breasts hung from her chest. Her nipples pointed to the floor, now stretching the gold chain taut, resulting in a slight pull upward on her nipples; an engineering marvel.

I retrieved my smartphone and took several pictures, showing them to her. She looked so vulnerable, compromised in a posture of obeisance. I will print these for you, so you can remember this night forever. You are a piece of art. You belong in that museum, a thing of beauty. My 21st Century Renoir nude.

"Dr. Addicted, I've been a bad girl, imagining this night for many years." she said as I looked her in the eyes.

"Well, what should we do about that, Ms. Josephs? Should I call room service and have the attendant see you like this?" She looked genuinely concerned I might actually do that. "Or maybe some other punishment is fitting."

"Oh, please don't let anyone else see me like this. I would be ashamed by what you have done to me," she begged.

Then I looked at her beautiful face, her eyes haunting me with the desire of total submission. "I don't think you need any punishment. You have just joined me in the mystery zone, abandoning your comfort zone completely and irrevocably.

With that, I reached from behind along the crack of her buttocks, putting my middle finger in her pussy, "Very wet, Ms. Josephs." Her panties were so tight. It was if my finger was destined to remain there to serve its useful purpose. But I had other plans.

I took a 5-speed remote control vibrator, and placed it within her panties, securely held in place and in contact with her clitoris by the elasticity of the panties. I then sat in the overstuffed chair facing her at one angle. In one hand, I had the remote for the vibrator. In the other, the remote to open and close the drapes to the full width window of the penthouse suite, overlooking the pedestrians on the busy street below.

"Do you want me to turn on this vibrator, Ms. Josephs?" She was clearly excited, and whimpered in a pleading tone. "Oh, please, Dr. Addicted. Turn it on for me."

As I started the lowest speed, I opened the drapes about two foot. The night lights of the city were evident in the hiatus. I turned on the reading lamp next to me and my laptop.

"Now Ms. Josephs, here is the way we play this game. I don't think you're going to have an orgasm at this speed. Therefore, I will turn up to speed at your request. But, I'll also open the drapes another two feet. I'm not going to untie you until you have an orgasm, or until you use the safe word." I paused, as if I just remembered she had foregone the safe word downstairs.

It was obvious from her expression that she knew her fate. "So, you decide. Do you stay like this, slightly stimulated hoping that you might have an orgasm? Or, do I turn up to speed but reveal your precarious situation to an audience outside."

I could see the thought of being exposed like this provided a thrill she had not anticipated.

"Oh, Addicted, I'm so embarrassed." She waited for a few more minutes, and then begged me, "Please, turn it up to the next speed."

I used the remote and first opened the drapes to four feet, then turned the vibrator to the next speed. The effect on her was immediate, as she sank down on her knees slightly as if to increase the intensity of the vibrations on her clitoris. She started to sway back and forth, her eyes closed. Then, as she opened them, she saw that her silhouette, bathed in the glow of the light, was directly in front of the parted drapes. She looked at her breasts, the chain taut, her nipples stimulated by the clamps. She looked at me, caught in a quandary, unable to climax, knowing full well that achieving her orgasm would require one, if not two, levels of vibration in exchange for relinquishing any remaining modesty.

Once again, she said in a begging tone, "Please, Addicted, turn it up to the next level."

I teased her as I looked out the window, seeing the public pass below. "I don't see anybody looking up here. I don't think they expect to have this beautiful woman, bound, ripe, aroused, pre-orgasmic, displayed so wantonly." With that, I turned the remote to the third level of stimulation. Then, looking her again directly in the eyes, I opened the curtains another two feet. There was absolutely no way she would not be visible if somebody was glancing up at our window 15 stories above the road.

It was almost as if she could not hold herself up, but the arm-binding ropes would not allow her out of her compromised position. She was panting, staring at me intently as the perpetrator of this endeavor. I didn't know how long she had gone without an orgasm before tonight. I could see the wetness on her panties. Clearly the vibrator was having its intended effect. The gold chain attached from her nipple clamps to her collar was swinging in response to her body movements. Her nipples had become slightly reddened and swollen from the pressure of the clamps. I made a mental note that I must lick them before the evening was over.

She produced a throaty moan, her eyes stared straight ahead, and a reflection of her body was clearly evident in the picture window. I got out of the chair and walked around her, examining my handiwork. "Is this everything you intended, Ms. Josephs?" I questioned her.

"Oh yes, Addicted, but I have to achieve an orgasm first. Please turn it up to the fourth level."

"As you wish," The curtains opened to a full eight feet. She must have realized that she was so brazenly revealed that it no longer mattered how wide the curtains were open.