Pleasure In Control Ch 09

Julia lands a dream job with a top fashion lingerie house that leads her into a life of beautiful women and daring sexual exploits. In this autobiographical story, Julia explores her sexuality and her body as well as her new contacts. Gradually she pushed the boundaries of her experiences and enters a secret world of lesbian passion, sex and more. This is only as fictional as you want it to be but you will not recognise any of the names. Act out parts of my life if you wish, but be kind, stay safe and stay legal.

This is a full-length novel and this is Chapter 9 of 17. You will enjoy this much more if you have read the preceding chapters first.

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Chapter 9

It was now the end of April and many of Passionella's best employees had gathered at PROM for another new product launch, this time of 'Mesh' - a new range of sexy dance/party/late-nights-at-home wear intended to compete with the growth of more daring high-street underwear shops.

I had been invited, of course, to mingle with the clients as one of them and to check up on the Dems and personal shoppers who can sometimes treat these launches as a night out for their own benefit rather than for the benefit of their customers. On the way there, I ran through some saved messages on my cell-phone voicemail. One had been left by Helen from the Sheffield store.

She introduced herself nervously then started to speak falteringly to my voicemail service like it was a behaviour counsellor:

"Julia, I need your help (long pause) No, let me get straight to the point. You, er, you know we aren't supposed to touch each other, company rules and all that, but, well, ... I have a fantasy about you and I and it's been keeping me awake at night. Julia, I've rubbed my pussy so sore just thinking of you and I ,,, doing, doing, well, something together. But I've saved myself for you for nearly a week now and my clit is throbbing for you and my juices are welling up inside me as I speak. Julia, can you come up to Sheffield really soon so we can get it on in the changing rooms? Or can we meet at PROM for the new product launch next week and enjoy each other in a Private Room? All the girls are talking about you and how much fun they have with you when you shop in their stores. Will you do something with me, Julia?" Click

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All my favourite girls were at the show. Fiona was positively glowing - she'd lost some weight and gained loads of self-confidence since being promoted to Personal Shopper at the new outlet in York. Tall Stevie was as loud as ever and was chatting up Yasmin and Zöe who, as usual, seemed more interested in each other and were being embarrassingly touchy-feely over pre-show drinks. Vikki and Maria were circulating like true professionals, chatting to clients and floating effortlessly from group to group. Abigail was mostly standing still for fear of falling out of her low-cut dress and Helen was attracting admiring and jealous stares in equal measure as she displayed more taught, flat tummy than most of us could at half her age. We made eye contact only briefly across the floor before Linda appeared and announced that the show was about to start.

We filed downstairs to the catwalk and took our seats. To my delight, Helen immediately sat down next to me and the other two vacant seats are taken by Zöe and Yasmin; they wouldn't disturb us as they were still totally engrossed in each other. Helen leaned across and spoke quietly. "Did, did you get my, er ..."

"Yes," I assured her, "I got your message - it was very flattering. I whispered in her ear: "Listen, I'll see you after the show. Shhh!"

Mesh was well presented as a very raunchy product line, something of a departure for Passionella but not losing the air of exclusivity and sophistication we all associated with the brand. Every garment was made up from panels of see-through fine mesh stretched between a structure of straps and webs. As Fiona, Stevie, Maria and another girl I didn't recognise took their turns on the stage, the audience cheered and applauded as we were treated to bras & panties in various cuts & styles, nightwear and 'special outfits' in black or white.

One garment in particular caught my eye. It was a basque and was modelled by lovely Maria; it barely covered her ample Andalusian breasts and stopped just above her hips. It had wide shoulder straps and removable suspenders attached by trademark Passionella logo catches. With it, she wore a Mesh thong with narrow side straps that also featured Passionella Kissing Lips logos. Cheekily, Maria showed that the side catches could be undone to make the thong even easier to remove in a hurry, although she fastened them again without completing the task. Shame.

I was in no doubt that the product range would be a great success when it hit the stores and the audience applauded warmly as Linda took the stage to make her closing remarks.

Immediately after the show, Helen grabbed my arm and positively dragged me up the stairs and into Gold Private Room before any of the other guests had even left their tables. She closed the door quickly and locked it behind her whereupon she let out a long sigh and smiled broadly at me. We flopped into opposite sofas and talked small talk, about the show, the products, the weather and life.

Then Helen looked more serious.

"I meant it. My message. I want to act out my fantasy, right here, right now, and I don't care if I get fired either. Julia, I'm hot for you and I want to show you what I bad girl I can be. Will you let me?"

How could I resist? Helen was not classically beautiful but she had a lean and slender body, long arms and legs and a particularly long, narrow midriff. She had masses of dark hair, to match her dark eyes. I was excited by her forward approach and realised that I could turn tonight to my advantage - I would use Helen as a practice run for my seduction of Linda. By the way, where was Linda tonight? I'd hardly seen her.

"Helen, yes, of course." I replied. She smiled again.

"I'd love you to model that set that Maria wearing, and I want to try out an idea. Are you game?" Helen nodded, and located her size amongst the garments on the hanging rail. "White OK?" she asked. A good choice to contrast with her hair. She disappeared into the en-suite dressing area and appeared moments later, still adjusting the straps to fit. She also had on a pair of white lace-top stockings that she attached to the suspenders and finally she threw a long white silk scarf casually around her neck.

Helen put on the show of my dreams. She moved so sensually and she talked dirty too. She described her garments in tantalising detail and used her long fingers to point out the features and the places where they made her feel good. She wriggled and showed me close up how the mesh had made her nipples hard and how the slightly stretchy material formed around them. She thrust out her chest and moaned, describing how the pressure on her breasts was making her feel horny and how the slightly coarse mesh rubbed over her nipples, making them hyper-sensitive. Looking down, I couldn't help but notice the dark shadow of her bush through the contrasting white mesh of her thong.

I encouraged her and matched the explicitness of her dialogue. I asked her questions about how the clothes made her feel and elicited moans of pleasure as I insisted she repeated and exaggerated those movements that increased her arousal. I had her acting to her own script and she was loving it.

"Helen, does that thong press against your pussy?" I teased, expecting no reply. "Does it feel tight between your legs, Helen? Does it rub you when you move?"

Helen confirmed my thoughts by making even more sensual moves and looking more and more dreamy. I asked more questions, the answers to which I could easily guess: "Helen, are you feeling really hot now? Is your pussy opening up and swelling against the pressure of that thong?" Helen could only nod and lick her lips. I continued to encourage her.

"Is your pussy engorged and wide open now (I could see that it was) and is the thong starting to slip between your lips? Is it, Helen?"

She nodded again.

"Is your clit touching the mesh fabric, now?" By the look on her face, I was sure it was.

"Yes it is, yes, yes, yes you bitch, you know it is. For fuck sake, stop just talking about it and frig me, won't you? I want you to pantie-frig me till I come. You promised. Just do it, now, please, please," Helen pleaded, standing with her hands on her hips, her legs wide apart and her pussy mound thrust towards me.

Now for my flash of inspiration. "Hold still," I demanded.

"I can't, Julia, I can't. I'm so turned on I'm just gong to have to do it myself if you won't - just watch me.

"No, don't," I insisted, and quickly grabbed the silk scarf from around her neck. I tied her wrists together behind her back and she cursed me some more.

"Now hold still, you'll thank me later," I retorted.

Helen was not convinced but I detached the suspenders from the bottom edge of her basque and tossed them aside (thankfully her stockings were hold-ups so they stayed high and smooth on her long, firm thighs).

I then unfastened the Logo clasp at one side of her thong and was delighted to find my hunch worked. Either by accident or by design, I could attach the two halves of the thong's side strap to the suspender attachment clasps at the front and back of the basque. I did the same at the other side and pulled the adjusters tight. This forced Helen's thong tight up against her pussy and she wriggled with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

"Hey, that's not fair," she protested, pulling at the scarf around her wrists.

"There, how does that feel?"

"Even more frustrating than before. You're trying to humiliate me and take advantage of the state you've got me into. This was supposed to be as much for my enjoyment as yours wasn't it? And you just seem to be getting your pleasure from seeing my discomfort. You're, you're a bitch! I thought you were a ..."

I interrupted her with a suggestion:

"Try rocking your pelvis and see what happens." I untied her wrists so she didn't loose her balance but Helen actually looked quite disappointed so I tied them together in front of her with the same scarf.

Helen thrust her hips forward and back a couple of times now that the thong was attached to her basque and not around her waist. As she moved her hips the mesh fabric between her legs rubbed back and forth over her pussy, just as I had hoped. "Oh, ... that's goooooood, " she sighed, and moved some more, "but I really don't think I can come like this."

"Let me help ..." I offered, and shortened the wide shoulder straps of her basque. This pushed her boobs closer together and lifted them higher on her chest, putting more pressure on her erect nipples as they pressed against the mesh bra-cups. But the design of the basque was such that the shoulder straps continued in long webs right down the front and back of the garment and terminated at the suspender attachment clasps. So, by shortening the shoulder strap adjusters I had also pulled her thong tighter up between her legs.

Helen moaned and thrust her hips purposefully. "Oh, that's even better. Mmmmmm ..."

"Tighter?" I asked.

Helen nodded excitedly and I pulled the shoulder adjustments as tight as they would go. She spread her stocking-encased legs wide apart and the thong all but disappeared deep between her engorged pussy lips.

"Tighter! Tighter!" she demanded, "Please!!" But I'd run out of adjustment.

"Lift your hands above your head!" I commanded and Helen obeyed. The effect was devastating because, as she raised her arms the tension on the shoulder straps pulled the basque high, high on her rib cage and rammed her thong harder into her crack.

Helen was panting and shaking. I was afraid she would go weak at the knees and lose the pulling effect but I had another idea still to try. Holding Helen's arms high above her head by the scarf that bound them, I walked her the length of the room. Every small step sent a shudder through her body as the tight thong rasped against her clit and pussy-gash.

When we reached the far wall, I turned her to face me and, staring deep into her dark eyes, I reached up and attached the free end of the scarf to a ring fixed to the wall, presumably for just such a purpose. I tied the scarf so Helen's arms stretched high in the air and the thong pulled so hard I feared the pain might mask the pleasure.

No worries there; Helen took over and established a rhythm. She lifted herself onto her tip-toes to relieve some of the pressure and rotated her hips in alternate directions. Then she bent her knees so most of her weight was taken on her tethered arms causing the thong to dig deeper into her soft, tormented pussy.

Helen let out a long deep moan and repeated the sequence several more times.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh. Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhh, no, no, yes, yes yessssss, no, ... mmmMMMMMmmmmm"

Then she lifted herself onto her toes again and, keeping her upper body still, she used those tight tummy muscles to thrust her pelvis forward and backwards in long slow decisive movements. She'd managed to release just enough tension on the thong straps that she was then able to rub her swollen clit against the inside of the mesh fabric.

I could only imagine what the feelings must have been like as she gave herself the pantie-frig of a lifetime. I sensed she was getting close to orgasm and gestured to untie the scarf but she shook her head. Instead she slowed her rhythm almost to a standstill before gradually building back up again from those almost indiscernible movements.

As her speed increased she started to loose control. Her face became contorted and her whole body began to shake. Finally, she lifted her feet right off the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest so her whole weight was taken by her bound wrists and the thong cut deep, deep into her.

She screamed.

"Yaaaahhhhhhhhh. Mmmmmmmmm. Oh, oh, oh yessssssssssss!" she cried as her orgasm finally arrived.

Taking her weight on her feet again, she twisted and writhed in pleasure and release as she extracted the maximum enjoyment out of her climax. I certainly derived a great deal of pleasure just watching her although I didn't come myself.

I also noticed just how much Helen enjoyed having her wrists bound and wondered if I would like that too.

As she calmed down, I released Helen's arms from the wall ring and untied them. She rubbed her wrists as she sank to the floor and she loosened the shoulder straps of her basque. Unclipping the thong, she extracted it from the soft folds between her legs, rubbing her pussy for the first time.

I feared she would be angry with me, until she spoke:

"Wow, Julia, that was terrific. Thanks!" Her cheeks were rosy red and her face and neck were wet with perspiration.

"But Helen," I replied, "I didn't touch you, you did that all yourself."

"Well, yes, but you set me up for this, you scheming bitch."

"Complaining?"

"No"

"Happy?"

"Definitely"

"Sore?"

"A bit"

"Get dressed and we'll go back to enjoy the party."

It was gone 11:00 pm when we wandered back into the PROM reception area. The few people still there smiled sweetly and knowingly. Zöe and Yasmin strolled out of Red, arm in arm and asked if we knew where Linda was. This confirmed my suspicions: that she is rarely to be seen at these events, preferring to keep a low profile in her office and trusting her staff to entertain her company's clients.

Kirsten blew a kiss to a client who was just leaving and waved to me across the room before departing.

I took a taxi home and showered before climbing into bed. I mulled over the evening's events and thought about my mission to 'satisfy' Linda. Unable to sleep, I masturbated myself slowly and tenderly to a quietly satisfying orgasm to relieve the pent-up tension and excitement of my 'session' with Helen, the images of her lean and tethered body still crystal clear in my mind.

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Early May found me hard at work around the stores as well as performing my secondary role as company spy, searching out new styles and ideas introduced by Passionella's competitors and ensuring that other brands were not overshadowing our store displays. I also purchased competitors' products to test the store staff's knowledge of their various brands and products.

I was also spending time at home, supervising the decorators who were implementing my scheme to improve the decoration of my apt without changing its fundamentally Minimalist feel. Terri was complaining about the difficulty of keeping it clean and tidy whilst the work went on but I promised her a special treat when it was all over. Even more special than her usual 'special treats'.

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When the day finally arrived for me to 'Mystery Shop' Linda I was very nervous, but any negative thoughts were more than cancelled out by the feelings of responsibility and trust placed in me by Emma and Kirsten. Anyway, I liked Linda and she was the owner of the company that employed me. If I could make her happy and at the same time, maybe, improve my employment chances, I'd give it my best shot. I'd dearly wanted to settle an old score with Mrs Grundleton too; revenge is sweet, as they say.

First decision: what to wear? Even though I'd had weeks to plan, I was still undecided. I was looking for a mix of my Recruitment Executive alter ego spiked with sensual temptress. It was the sensual temptress bit that I found difficult to carry off on a Thursday morning in central London. Finally I settled on the suit I'd bought with no particular situation in mind - a shimmering satin fabric in a French Mustard hue with a wrap-over double-breasted jacket (the irony made me smile too) and a calf-length skirt with mid-thigh-high splits up both sides. I'm sure the designer had his own idea of what should be worn underneath but I chose one of my new uplift-for-a-deep-cleavage bras in a strong blue with decorated edges to the cups and narrow twin shoulder straps. The panties consisted of a fairly large triangle of matching blue fabric with similar detailing along its top edge, identical narrow twin straps around the hips meeting at the back at a tiny triangle securing them to the thin web that would soon be nestling in the crack between my tight gym-honed bum cheeks. And nothing else. Except for a pair of dark hold-up lace-topped stockings co-ordinated with fairly sensible buckle-over shoes.

I showered thoroughly, pampered myself to death, shaved my bikini line but left a light re-growth of pubic hair in a small neat shield-like shape. I painted my finger and toenails to match my underwear and applied a minimum of carefully-chosen make-up. I wondered aloud as I dusted and brushed, how many people at Passionella have actually noticed that normally I don't wear any make-up?

I finished my bowl of muesli and downed a second cup of herbal tea before dressing. I slipped my Panties over my hips and wriggled them into position, enjoying the feel of quality materials next to my skin. I threaded my arms into the bra and fastened the clasp behind my back. Looking in the mirror, I almost gasped out loud as I hardly recognised my breasts. Thrust upwards and forwards by the combination of my arms being pushed right back and the clever design of the bra cups. More than half of the large rounded mounds of my breasts was exposed and they swelled firmly and provocatively towards the mirror. Then, when I dropped my arms to my sides, my twin perfectly-rounded hemispheres pressed together so aggressively that they almost touched. A cleavage of such magnificence and glossy-magazine perfection such as I'd never experienced before.