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.
“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.