Intro: In part one (found in the Exhibitionism section), Miss Helene Jean Ponsonby, managing director and owner of her family company saw a sign to a mysterious organisation situated next to her offices. She went in to find out what they did, was mistaken for a client, and ended up exposing herself to the receptionist who reciprocated in a mutual masturbation session. She left, not finding out what their company name, N.U.D.E. Ltd stood for. In part 2 (in the Exhibitionism section), she returned the next day still curious about their name and was subjected to an unconventional examination of her sexual interests and desires. This was against the backdrop of fighting off a boardroom coup. However, as her journey of sexual liberation and discovery is occurring, so is her capacity to fight back; again in unconventional ways. In part 3 (in the BDSM section) we joined her at the end of the second day recounting the events of her journey home from the office where she has been 'advised' about purchases in a sex shop, and in turn used her business skills to advise the owner in return for his toys, then entered a clothing shop specialising in leather wear. Here she has explored her dominant side, with tutelage from an attractive Domme Aunt and her sexy and submissive niece. In part 4 we find her getting ready to put into action some of the things she had promised herself she would do the previous day...
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I entered the office on the third day, the Wednesday, feeling energised and ready to keep my promise to that greasy slime ball of a sex shop owner. I knew I had just the right person to market it properly and turn it into the best, the kinkiest and the most profitable one in any North American city. In fact, that was the task I was going to set her; my protégé and future sex partner. Well, I had to have something from this too, didn't I? Free toys were never going to be enough. Still, I did like slime ball. Under the greasy façade Tony Delgado was a nice man trying to get out.
I wore a tight pencil skirt, split on the right thigh just enough to make it sexy but not too much that it would become tarty. I had hold-up stockings, with a seam down each leg and no panties. I had taken to discarding that unnecessary garment, enjoying the freedom it gave me. You know, the previous night when I had got home from the leather couturier (and a bout of BDSM) I had read an article on the history of clothes. It said that women had only started wearing panties in the last 200 years. Why on earth was that, I asked myself, if we had no need for them other than to mop up our perfectly good cunt juice? Apparently our cunts adjusted to the lack of panties, giving out measured amounts of love juice even when aroused that would never shame us, unlike a man cumming in his underpants. My God! What a turn-on, just thinking of a man made to cum in his pants. That was enough for some good 'ol love nectar to seep out of my smoothly shaven pussy.
Yes, readers, when I got home I opened that bag they gave me on leaving the two seamstresses. Inside was a special women's razor, blades, shaving foam for sensitive skin and an unusual oil whose instructions advised rubbing onto my newly shaven pussy lips to moisturise but also inhibit hair growth. It was not until the next morning, after crashing out exhausted from the endless sex, that I had used the contents. It was amazing, the sensations, and the intense sexual feel of my smooth labia. I had masturbated for ages this morning, so much so for the first time in all my years with the Company I was late.
I hoped my staff liked my top too, a white silk blouse that moved with such grace as my big naked tits danced underneath. I revelled in the feel of my hard nipples straining and swaying, wanting to be unfettered yet alluring because they could not be fully seen. It was such a mix of primness and whoring. I knew both the men and the women were looking at me as I walked past their desks to Rebecca Thompson-Forbes's office. At least Jason Banks, the creep for all his good looks (and her boss), had given her a hidey-hole to work from though so often I saw her out of it and sitting at a desk in the open plan near to my own office. Then it struck me, had she been trying to get noticed by me?
Her degree from Oxbridge and MA in marketing lay unused, working for that brilliant but selfish and cruel bastard of a man. She was going to be languishing no more, and Jason would notice her more for her skill than her cute arse and perky breasts to which she had persistently refused him access. That was why she was languishing. No, she was holding out with fierce determination. In fact, I had wondered for a while if she was gay until yesterday when I had seen her stare, admittedly discretely from behind her desk, at the mail man's obvious hard-on, caused by a secretary bending and showing her panties. She had even allowed herself a little giggle, a lick of her incredibly full and sexy lips and a discrete stroke of her hand across the top of her breasts. That gesture was such a give-away of something more happening under those tweedy clothes that seemed modelled on the old me.
The door was closed. Unusual I thought. I tried the handle, locked. I rapped on the door, pressing my ear to the wood in an attempt to hear anything.
"Rebecca? You in there?"
No reply, but there was some sharp whispering and what sounded like a chair being moved. I knocked again.
"Er, coming Ms Ponsonby!" came the strangely warbly reply.
What was going on? I stood, suddenly feeling slightly irritated. I listened again. More whispering and then the door opened, unnaturally slowly I thought. To my surprise it was our young mail man who came out to greet me.
"Well thank you Ms Thompson-Forbes for the advice," he said in a voice that was suspiciously loud, as if he wanted the whole office to know. Plus, his face was more akin to tomato than the olive skin he usually sported.
"You are welcome. Please ask for some of my time whenever you need it, though perhaps it would be best to book it with my secretary so that she can arrange a more suitable venue."
What was she talking about? This office was as good as any.
"Ms Ponsonby, please come in," she welcomed, gesturing me to sit in one of her office chairs as she adjusted her waist band and I quickly noticed, slipped her feet back into her sensible court shoes. She followed my glance.
"Oh, these shoes are killing me!" she blustered, though I knew they were not new. Nothing she wore ever seemed to be. This was strange, but not so much as the peculiar smell that hung in the air. It was familiar. I had smelt it at N.U.D.E. Ltd only yesterday when...
I smiled. She hadn't, had she? I watched her dab a silk hanky at the sides of her mouth, just like people do with a napkin after eating a delicacy. I went for it.
"So, been sucking some cock this morning Ms Forbes?"
I closed the door behind me, feeling a sudden rush of blood to my pussy. I locked it discretely. I watched her beautiful porcelain skin flush the brightest of reds, but there was fire in her eyes; the residue of continued desire. My god, she was beautiful behind all that stuffiness.
"You have, haven't you?!" I exclaimed excitedly. I wanted to know everything, but how would she react? I didn't go to the chair. I went to her, lifting her chin in my hand to stop her from lowering that pretty blushing face. "Go on darling," I purred, "Tell me all and don't stint on the descriptions. I love cock-sucking. Well, ever since I discovered it yesterday."
A quick flash-back to N.U.D.E. The therapist's cock had entered my mouth. It was my first time, but I loved its hardness and heat sliding over my tongue. I'd come close to choking but the porn I'd read made it seem so simple to swallow him, remembering to treat it like I was sucking a sausage (without the bites of course!) but deep into my throat. I knew I had impressed him by his delighted groans of appreciation. I came out of my daydream to hear her say,
