Attempt One
They say that much
planning goes into seduction, and since I’d been given a day and a half to
contemplate just how this one was going to go, I’d given it some serious
thought. Obviously attire was going to be a major issue, and with that in mind
I’d eschewed my normal procedure that morning and donned blue jeans and a tee
shirt for my morning foray to work.
Now before you go
ballistic, screaming aloud and emailing Julie about how Breanne was in
violation of NHPS Rules, you have to understand that I was still stuffed to the
brim with my Core Driller dildo - 12 inches of solid but flexible rubber,
shaped like a rocket, that was firmly and completely embedded in my slit, held
in with a black lace thong and firmly buttoned denim. And despite the seemingly
wholesome appearance of my attire, the tee shirt I was wearing was soft pink,
with the shadow image of a naked woman in high heels, bending over at the
waist, with the words “Stay Slutty” written next to her, as if the words
themselves were banging her in the ass. I’d also taken a knife to the shirt.
The collar now dipped down to a point where my boobs were practically hanging
out, and since I’d trimmed the bottom hem, a good portion of my belly was now
exposed as well.
The jeans weren’t
exactly in pristine condition either. I’d say they were holey, but extremely
well ventilated might be a better term. The fact that I was wearing a thong
left some distinctly flesh-colored bits showing. Add in my stripper shoes and I
still looked distinctly slutty.
Not bad, right?
I walked into the office
at about 8:30am and as expected, Jose - our building’s day porter, was mopping
the atrium. His face brightened as I came in and he told me I looked very
pretty. I rolled my eyes. Jose and I have a strange relationship. Despite
having had his cock in my mouth multiple times, I still felt like I needed to
keep him at arms distance. Still, he never pushed, never asked. But it was
obvious he was making himself available if I needed something to suck on.
Instead I unlocked the office door and went in. I chucked my black duffle bag
down on the floor by the desk and started the normal process of opening up for
the day.
Kari came in at nine.
Precisely.
She was wearing a St.
John jacket over a sheath dress, in matching colors and her gold hair spilled
down over the shoulders in straight lines. Gold marked her ears, throat, waist,
wrist, and finger, and if the diamond on her wedding ring was any bigger she’d
need a truck and few slaves to carry it around for her. She carried a stylish,
leather attaché case and she stopped in her tracks when she saw me. A distinct
look of disapproval was on her face.
“Dressing down I see?”
She said sternly and I had to take a deep breath to still the trepidation I was
feeling. I knew this was a risk, even with my tits half hanging out, or bits of
my ass showing right through the jeans. She had every right to just order me to
the back closet, strip, and hang me on the punishment frame. I braced myself
for just that, when Kari stopped and read my shirt. Finally she pointed a
finger at me.
“That just saved you,
but I would appreciate in the future you wearing one of the outfits I’ve selected
for you.” Then she paused. “Though if you wish to wear that outfit again
on one of our demolition days I wouldn’t object.” She turned and walked down
that hall and I let out a sigh of relief.
Fifteen minutes later I
stood up, wobbling for just a second on the nine inch platform heels. I’d
opened my duffle bag and pulled out a small bundle of cloth. With an eye on the
atrium, I turned down the hall and slowly sauntered into Kari’s office. She was
on the phone and she gave me a warm look as I walked in. I set the bundle of
material on the chair.
“No. I need it by the
seventeenth. That was what we agreed upon,” she said darkly, but not at me.
Into the phone. Her eyes met mine and she grimaced, then pointed at the phone.
I nodded and smiled.
“Can you use some other
material then?” Kari asked. As she spoke I reached up, grabbed the front of my
Still Slutty shirt, and tugged the material downward. The slit in the collar
opened and a half second later both of my breasts were hanging out, bare and
perfect. Kari’s eyes widened and then her mouth curled up into a huge smile.
She nodded at me.
So I took off the shirt,
tossing it onto one of the chairs opposite her desk. Make no mistake - I was
still standing in the doorway. While not as exposed as I might have been at my
desk in the little lobby, if anyone had come in at that moment they would have
seen me stripping.
Naked from the waist up,
my nipples hardened instantly and the little, gold padlock that dangled from my
right breast danced. I gave Kari one of my most wicked smiles and popped the
button of my jeans, rolling my hips back and forth, side to side. It looked
good, but mostly it made the foot long dildo inside me move. I could feel the
fluids swirl and as I pushed down my jeans, exposing the thong, I couldn’t help
moaning. Softly.
“Okay. Yes. That would
be acceptable. Yes. That will be fine. Thank you,” Kari said into the phone,
her eyes locked on my gyrating form. “Now what about the stone?”
I slipped one foot out
of my stripper shoes, then the other, and the denim ended up on the floor. I
immediately put the shoes back on, doing it all slinky and feminine. The Core
Driller dildo, no longer held in by the combined strength of the lace thong and
my jeans, was stretching the crotch of my thong outward and my pulsing slit
wasn’t helping things stay in place. I reached between my legs, put one foot up
on Kari’s desk, and grabbed the base of the dildo. It slid outward, around my
thong, and ten inches of slick, black, well lubricated rubber came out of my
sex.
Kari’s eyes were locked
on my pussy, but she nodded. “I’d prefer the Colorado, if you don’t mind,” she
said roughly.
I slid the dildo back
in, eyes half closing. Behind me I knew that I was in full view, or at least my
ass was, and there would be no doubt that I was thrusting twelve inches of
rubber into my pussy. But I ignored the risk that someone would enter and
pumped away. I let out another groan. My wrist moved with precision and pure,
unadulterated bliss rose up from between my legs. Extreme pleasure accompanied
every thrust and droplets of moisture spread from my labia to my thighs. I
pumped slowly and thoroughly, trying to make sure that every thrust took as
much of the dildo as I could comfortably handle.
Kari’s eyes watched
hungrily. “I think that looks better wet. Don’t you?” She asked into the phone.
I let out a little chuckle, nodding. Then, just for dramatics, I pulled the
Core Driller dildo completely out of my box, brought my leg down, turned
around, put a foot back up on one of the guest chairs, and slid the full length
back into my slit, but from behind.
My, oh my, it felt good.
And now I was only partially exposed to passersby!
With my back to Kari I
couldn’t see her face, but I was getting pretty sauced. Waves of delight
bubbled up from between my legs and I brought a hand up to pinch a nipple.
Pressure began to build, shifting and swirling inside me as I worked myself
toward orgasm.
“Alright. Thank you.
Have a good day,” Kari said, hanging up the phone.
I moaned, loudly,
driving the thick, black, rubber dildo in deep. From behind.
“I presume you’re going
to ask for permission to cum, before exploding all over my desk,” Kari asked
wryly.
I nodded and twisted my
head to look back at her. “Better than that,” I panted. “I just need a thumbs
up or a thumbs down.”
Kari’s eyebrow went up.
“Crude, yet effective. And the affirmative indicates?”
“That I can cum,” I
replied, my voice tight and high. Just a bit more and I’d be popping.
“Why on earth would I
grant you that privilege?” She asked curiously.
I groaned, this time
with dramatic feeling. “Because you like my performance?” Now I could feel it.
I was getting close. If she was going to allow me to cum, she needed to grant
me permission. Soon.
Kari was silent and I
kept pushing the dildo in and out. My labored breathing was the only sound, punctuated
by the growing intensity of my moans. Then the cliff appeared.
I’m speaking, of course,
of the metaphorical “cliffs of orgasm,” a giant chasm at the top of the
mountain, where a girl stands there on the brink, the very edge. Desperation
and longing are on one side, while satisfaction and hedonistic bliss lie upon
the other. How you approach that edge makes the difference and this time I came
to it with a steady, measured pace. I glanced back at Kari.
“Kari? Please?” I
begged, wanting to cum. The dildo slid in and out. She watched me silently.
Another full thrust of
ten inches. I whimpered. The dildo began to slide out and Kari raised her
hands. Her thumb extended and for a second my breath caught in my throat. Then
she rotated her entire hand until her thumb pointed downward.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry, Bre. But
that just isn’t enough,” she said sadly. “You can’t cum.”
I closed my eyes and
pushed the dildo back in. Then, with unsteady fingers, pushed the base back up
into my thong. My entire body felt strained and uncomfortable and I slowly
turned back around. Kari and I looked at each other. Part of me felt
disappointed, but I’d known that her approving the orgasm wasn’t likely. I’d
sort of expected it. After a moment I turned, grabbed the cloth bundle I’d
brought with me and left in the chair, and shook it out. A summer dress erupted
in my hands and I slid it on over my head.
It was an Ibiza, one
that Kari had bought me last summer. White and cut tight, you could see the
black outline of my thong with a clarity that was almost disturbing. The pink
circles of my areola, not to mention the hardware hanging from my nipples, were
also in distinct due to the translucent view. I bent down slowly to get my
jeans and tee shirt, and then with a shrug, left Kari to her own devices.
And me? I had mine.
Stay tuned! More cumming! - Love Bre
I swallowed. “Uh … thank
you,” I replied in a voice better suited for an audition at Disney World - as a
cartoon character. I still felt seriously out of my depth. With my one free
hand I smoothed down the dress Karen liked, an apricot-colored, party dress
Kari had bought me. It had a plunging neckline that dipped well below the
bottoms of both breasts, sequined designs swirling up from the hem, which in and
of itself was positioned somewhere between intriguingly daring and dangerously
obscene. The top of the dress barely contained my breasts and leaning over more
than twenty degrees in any direction would either leave me exposed, or actually
cause my bosom to fall out. Worse, there was no way to wear a bra, so my
nipples were both acutely on display, pierced with enough hardware to set off a
TSA metal detector. 
