I caught my reflection in the window and hesitated only momentarily as I considered the girl who stared back at me. The first thing that went through my mind was “damn, I’ll bet she’s a good fuck,” followed by the awful, sinking feeling that everyone else would have the exact same thought. I grimaced. The girl was dressed in a pair of slip on high heels. And not the sort you’d find a professional looking woman wearing. No, these were platforms, each boasting thick soles and a nine inch spike at the back. The arch of each foot was bent dramatically and I knew from experience that while it looked amazing, it meant I’d need a foot massage and some aspirin later. The girl in the reflection had red painted toenails which matched her hair, which curled and fell in locks down her shoulders.
Her blouse was borderline decent, and by borderline I mean on the wrong side of the border. It was white, translucent, and did very little to keep the pink, silver dollar circles of her nipples from showing. Of course the fact that the gold hoop piercing on her right nipple, along with the tiny gold padlock that hung from it, easily seen through the shirt as well, just made looking at her ample bosom that much more interesting. The shirt was tight too, so she filled it out impressively. And just in case you hadn’t noticed that you could see her tits through the material, the cut was daring. Her collar plunged low to a few almost meaningless buttons at the front and did more to reveal her breasts than the thinness of the cloth.
The skirt was tight, black, and ridiculously short. It barely covered her bottom and the only good news was that at least it actually did cover her bottom. A simple twist of the hips made sure of that and while it molded like paint to her sculpted butt, it was sort of hard not to look at her legs.
So yeah, she was definitely “fuckable.” I sighed, resigned to looking like a nympho humiliation pain slut out for another assignment. Because in truth, I was.
It was Saturday morning and I’d been careful to pick the day because I didn’t exactly want a crowd around as I struggled to complete Master Brandon’s assignment. Julie had kindly presented it to me in the middle of the week, even lobbying to have me do it on a work day. Kari had initially been in favor of the idea, at least until she’d read the details of what Brandon had in mind. Then she’d called Julie, argued a bit, then suggested Saturday. She even provided a location, which was why I was about to go into a building with only fifteen stories, instead of the tallest skyscraper in Houston.
As far as office buildings went, the concrete, steel, and glass construction wasn’t the most impressive of the buildings in the greater Houston area, but it was new and fresh and only half occupied. Master Brandon had specified I select the highest office building in Houston, but Kari had squashed that idea, pointing out that anything over twenty stories would have elevators dedicated for groups of floors, rather than one that went from top to bottom. For me, I was sort of glad Kari had gotten involved. We had been both visited the building a number of times over the last few weeks dealing with a client remodeling their penthouse office. I’d accompanied her to take pictures, notes, and eventually just to distract the living hell out of the company CFO, a nice looking man named George Padilla who had been annoying Kari by following her around like a lost puppy. Once I’d sauntered in looking, well… much the same as I did that Saturday morning, he’d payed way more attention to me than to what Kari was doing. It allowed her to work unimpeded. He had especially liked the fuck me shoes I’d been wearing. Had I sat down in his office and put my feet up on his desk, flashing my legs and probably a bit more at him, he’d have gladly let Kari go off on her own while he explored my finances. Deeply.
On Saturday the place wasn’t exactly busy but I was able to get in with a minimal of fuss. My attire caught a wide-eyed grin from the security officer at the front desk, but then I was past him and stepped into the elevator alcove and pressed the button. There were five elevators and each one stopped on every floor. I took a deep breath, my boobs once again threatening to pop out of my top. Finally the door to one of the elevators slid open and I stepped in, alone.
I pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and as the elevator started to rise I fished the pink control box out of my waistband. There were two sliders on it, along with double rows of unilluminated red LEDs and a matching pink wire disappeared into my skirt. I didn’t waste any time. I used my thumb on both sliders simultaneously, pushing them upward even as the elevator began to climb. All twelve lights came on and the cheap music being piped out of the elevator’s speakers did nothing to mute the sudden hum of two powerful, electric motors that emanated from under my skirt.
The rest of Breanne's amazing tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog. But don't despair! It can be found in her novel "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 13"! Check it out now at Amazon.com!