These slid
down with a seductive whisper and Julia lifted her feet, one by
one, so that Grace could take them off, along with the shoes. She
held the silky undergarment to her face with sensual delight, then
put it to one side and unclipped Julia's suspenders, front and
back, and rolled down the nylons, careful not to snag them. Naked,
Julia was aware of Grace's breath on her skin. She went to unhook
the garter-belt, but Grace slapped her fingers away.
'What?' Julia
squealed, the backs of her hands stinging.
'I shall
undress you,' Grace replied sternly, and imprisoned Julia's outer
labia between thumb and index finger, and walked her middle digit
between the soft inner lips, finding her clitoris and starting to
stimulate it.
Tingling
excitement made Julia gasp. Grace smiled knowingly, then stood up
and went to where articles of clothing hung on the back of a chair.
She took up a wasp-waisted corset of black satin, trimmed with
scarlet, and brought it over.
'I wore
something like this for George,' Julia said as Grace wrapped it
round her, settled her breasts in the half cups and started to pull
on the lacing at the back.
It was
extremely restrictive and growing tighter as Grace hauled, pausing
only to snap, 'Hold the couch - I need to get a purchase. Come on,
breathe in...'
'Oh... ah...'
Julia grunted, bending to cling to the scroll back of the chaise
longue, legs apart, the fair floss hardly covering her chubby lower
lips protruding between.
She was
conscious of Grace behind her, tugging as if her life depended on
closing the gap of the corset to the limit. The more Julia
protested, the air leaving her with a rush at every forceful jerk
at the laces, the more determined Grace became.
Finally,
satisfied that she couldn't reduce Julia's waist any more, she tied
the ends and tucked them away. She prowled round to the front,
pinching Julia's nipples till they swelled like raspberries over
the basque's upper edge.
'Gorgeous,'
she muttered, and bent her head to lick each one, her tongue as
rough as a cat's, causing a frisson of lust to race through Julia's
nervous system.
She caught a
glimpse of herself in a mirror over the mantelpiece, and was struck
by how extreme she looked. The black corset contrasted with her
paler skin, nipping her waist to doll size, thrusting her breasts
high. And, below the edge of the garment that ended at her navel,
the swell of her belly and the outrageous sight of her golden fuzz
sliced through by her labial slit.
'I couldn't
wear this on the catwalk,' she gasped, with some difficulty.
Grace
commenced running her hands over Julia's rounded buttocks, so
shamelessly displayed. She wove her fingers into the valley,
playing over the crimped anus, and then going lower to the damp
vulva.
'You could,
with a few modifications and a few additions.' As she spoke, she
gave full rein to her imagination, adding a length of silk to form
a skirt, or a long stole, a swathe of sable to cover naked nipples,
an exotic turban on Julia's tousled hair.
She was right,
transforming the revealing basque into a bodice suitable for
wearing to the most star-studded première, naughty but acceptable.
'You could have been a designer yourself,' Julia said, and Grace
nodded.
'Perhaps,' she
agreed, whipping away the improvised skirt. 'But we can't all be
prima donnas. Someone has to keep the nuts and bolts of life
together. I know my place and am happy to obey Mr Gabor. There are
many perks, not the least of which is this,' and she cradled
Julia's sex, spreading her fingers in and around the wet delta,
holding the petals apart and concentrating on the juicy button of
her clitoris.
Still clinging
to the walnut frame of the brocade-upholstered couch, Julia
surrendered to the pleasure sweeping her towards orgasm. Grace was
holding her from behind, and she hissed in Julia's ear, 'I'm going
to make you come, but you're not to do it till I say you may. It's
all par for the course. Our models have to be pliable and
submissive.'
'W-why?' Julia
was struggling to sound rational, her traitorous desire increasing,
that artful finger tormenting her needful bud.
'It's a house
rule,' the woman said in husky tones. 'Whoever works for Marty
Blake and Mr Gabor has to know his or her place.'
'Even you?'
Julia sighed, her eyes closed, and then the fingers between her
thighs were too much and her pleasure peaked, her orgasm shattering
into a million fiery sparks.
Then she was
cruelly jarred back to reality as the woman administered a harsh
slap on her bottom. 'Bad girl!' she admonished. 'Did I say you
could come?'
Reeling with
shock, Julia was propelled to the chaise longue and thrust down.
Grace rucked up her grey skirt, revealing a forest of wiry black
hair that sprouted from her mons. She knelt over Julia, spreading
her thighs, the lips of her labia protruding from the thicket,
crowned by a large crimson clitoris. 'Now you'll bring me off,' she
grated, lowering herself till she was squatting over Julia's
stunned face.
She was
appalled yet fascinated by the woman's brazenly exposed and
demanding sex. She had never been in such a position before, never
been so close to another woman's genitals. She was disgusted yet
shamefully excited, tentatively kissing that pink sliver of flesh,
using her fingers to peel apart the hair-fringed folds, then
sucking strongly. Grace's flesh tasted unexpectedly sweet, her
juice coating Julia's cheeks and chin.
Julia found it
difficult to breathe, enveloped in female flesh and female essence,
while Grace was grinding her hips to match the rhythm of the
enchantingly naïve lips and tongue palpating her clitoris. She was
losing control, her body shaking, hands inside her blouse. 'Ah...
ah!' she cried, her voice rising to a howl. 'Oh... yes! Yes! I'm
coming... that's it! Oh, I'm there!'
She writhed
then went rigid, and Julia felt the clitoris pulsing against her
tongue and knew Grace had attained her zenith. Then giving herself
no time to recover, the woman climbed off Julia and stood, her
skirt falling into place. 'Get up,' she snapped. 'Don't think
you're forgiven. You didn't wait to come till I gave you
permission. Such disobedience can't be ignored.'
'This is
silly,' Julia complained. 'Don't you want me to model more
clothes?'
'No need; this
is part of the test. Now, over the table - at once.'
Annoyed,
apprehensive, yet with a dark skein of excitement coiling inside
her, Julia did as she was told. The table was narrow, the surface
highly polished, and Grace pushed a hand into the small of her
back, making her lean across it. The wood pressed against her
breasts, swelling over the basque, forced high by her posture.
'Grip the edge
of the table,' the woman instructed.
'No,' Julia
refused sulkily.
Grace grabbed
her wrists, and there was a metallic snap as fur-lined handcuffs
closed around them, fastened to a length of chain bolted
underneath. Julia tugged, to no avail. She cringed, haunted by
vivid pictures of Theona Blue as she had seen her through the
window of the gymnasium. Was this cruel woman about to whip her?
Fear gripped her, coupled with a reprehensible and inexplicable
throb of anticipation.
Then, without
warning, Grace viciously smacked her bottom. Julia yelped and
clenched her buttocks, pain robbing her of breath. But this didn't
stop Grace from hitting her again, her hand harsh, leaving a
scalding trail. She paused and Julia, sobbing in spite of her
resolution to show no emotion, hoped and prayed she had finished.
Silence yawned and she strained her ears to listen for movement.
She could see nothing but the carpet, and hear nothing but birdsong
filtering in through the window.
Something
swished behind her and she screamed at the impact as Grace struck
her with a riding crop. It bit into Julia's rump, excruciating
agony rising to a crescendo. Before she had time to recover the
lash fell again. She clawed at the table, absorbing the pain, and
when three more stripes joined the first she no longer shrieked,
making mewing noises instead, choked by tears, aware of the pain
yet conscious of something else - a throbbing deep inside her that
resembled sexual desire.
What was
happening to her? Was she becoming totally depraved?
'Ah, she's
perfect. Fresh, artless... I like her.' Gabor sighed, giving a tug
at the gold ring threaded through the piercing in Cressida's
clit-hood. He looked down and added, 'I really must give you a
diamond to go there. A diamond stud, to enhance your wonderful
pussy. Would you like that?'
'Thank you,
master,' she replied meekly, the feisty girl reduced to a slave in
his presence.
They were in a
recess built between the library and the reception room where Grace
had taken Julia, where Gabor was able to spy on visitors. The
mirror that hung over the fireplace was a two-way one, and he'd
been watching everything his aide and the new girl had been doing.
He had heard them talking, heard the whip singing, the niche wired
for sound.
He stripped
off his T-shirt on entering, and his finely tuned body was tanned
and muscular, kept in trim by a rigorous workout routine
orchestrated by his trainer. He was olive-skinned and tanned
easily, his chest and limbs coated with dark hair, pectorals
crowned by wine-red nipples. A scribble of hair ran down from chest
to navel and there fanned out to join the black bush from which his
penis rose from his rolled-down jogging pants. While observing
Julia at every stage of her interview with Grace, he had ordered
Cressida to kneel and press her breasts together, forming a channel
for him to use for his lust. He thrust his cock between her
nut-brown orbs, but hadn't come until he'd raised her, spun her
round and made her stick out her rump so he could plunge into her
receptive vagina, which fitted round him like a velvet glove.
Julia deserved
a diamond too, he thought, watching her climb stiffly but still
with innocent grace from the table and begin dressing. His cock
sprung up again as he admired the red marks scoring her bottom, and
he knew that very soon he'd enter the room, put on his business
head and talk to her, all the while remembering her in the throes
of orgasm or pain. He would hire her, of course, making her feel
privileged to be a part of his team, then slowly and using all his
powers of persuasion, he would seduce her. The idea of her being a
virgin intoxicated him immensely.
Then he
changed his mind, saying quietly to Cressida, 'On second thoughts,
it would be better to keep her dangling. Wind her up and then let
her go. She'll be so wired if I leave it a day or so, that she'll
agree to any terms. She'll model Marty's clothes, but I also want
her to join my team of artistes who entertain influential foreign
customers.'
He picked up
the intercom and spoke to Grace. 'Tell her to come to my penthouse
suite at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon,' he said brusquely, aware
of Cressida coiling herself, snakelike, round his legs, her nimble
fingers forming a ring which she passed over his shaft. It
stiffened and, as he gave Grace his orders, so she rubbed his
escaping jism over the helm.
'You can't see
her today? Very well, sir, I'll tell her,' Grace responded and
replaced the phone.
Gabor heard
her informing Julia that he was busy and couldn't get away till
tomorrow. He noted the flicker of disappointment that passed over
the girl's lovely face, and his penis swelled under Cressida's
ministrations, but his thoughts were with his interview with the
virgin Julia the next day.
'Did you see
Blake?' Arlene demanded as soon as Julia stepped inside the
door.
'No,' Julia
said, dropping her bag on the hall floor and kicking her shoes
across the tiles. 'Jesus! What a trek. The traffic was evil,
road-rage all over the place. I hate driving through the city and
I've to do it again tomorrow. I didn't see his high and mightiness,
Vincent Gabor, either. I'm ordered to attend him tomorrow
afternoon, in his office in town. Apparently, he was too busy to
see me.'
'So you don't
know if you've been taken on?' Arlene paced about restlessly, from
hall to sitting room and then out through the conservatory to the
garden.
'Well, not
finally, I suppose, though his assistant, Grace Pennick, looked at
my CV and had me wear a brief costume. She did other things, too,'
Julia added, her face heated with more than a hectic and
frustrating drive through the busy streets.
'Oh, and what
were they?' Arlene asked, but she was still wrestling with her
annoyance because Blake had not turned up to the audition.
It wasn't
simply the loss of her designs that was bugging her. She was
finding it hard to cope with her own strong feelings concerning
Blake. She was furious with him, naturally, but memories of their
one session in the broom cupboard continued to plague her. Eugene
had been with her almost constantly and she was grateful, but no
matter that they were screwing each other brainless, she still
couldn't blank Blake from her mind.
'I'll tell you
all that happened, in a minute,' Julia promised, and Arlene could
see that she was tired, so fixed a tray of tea and carried it out
to the patio.
The sun was
warm, beating down on their loungers, and she stripped off her
clothes and applied a generous helping of screening oil, enjoying
the rays in this secluded corner, far from prying eyes.
'Aren't you
going to get your kit off?' she asked, pouring tea and taking her
own cup back to her lounger, spreading it with a beach towel and
then lying down, her face shaded by a parasol clipped to the
backrest.
'I suppose
so,' Julia said, surprising Arlene with her reluctance.