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Author’s Note: This Chapter received a minor update in Jan 2014. Just a few small fixes.
Chapters 1 through 5 of this story appear in the Exhibitionism -)
Friday June 7, 2013
Elise and Arthur each awoke at 6:00AM. Nearly fifty miles of suburb, cityscape and saltwater lay between them but it was not enough.
In the East Bay, Arthur had been kept awake by memories of Elise intentionally taunting him atop his exercise bike and faking an injury to trick him into inappropriate touching.
In the City, Elise’s sleep had been haunted by her mortifying attempt to seduce Doctor Peters and her growing obsession with the pleasure wrought by her clit’s new ornament.
Arthur climbed from his bed naked. His morning erection jutted out, fat and unsatisfied, from his bear-shaped body. He pulled on a bathrobe, shuffled to his private kitchen and made a bowl of cereal for breakfast. He watched some local news, which was all about the impending BART strike. Then he showered and got dressed. His commute consisted of walking through the lockable doorway that connected his one-bedroom apartment to his office at the laboratory.
Elise did twenty minutes of yoga stretches in her sleepwear on the floor of her friends’ living room and then showered. After drying off, she pulled on a pink thong, grey jeans, wedge sandals and a zippered hoodie over a sleeveless cotton top and walked nine blocks downhill to the Market Street BART station. Her train ride took forty minutes. She then had to walk four more blocks to get to the lab.
During the course of her commute Elise convinced herself that she needed to confess to Doctor Peters about the Model O. That was the only way he would understand why she had become so aroused during her workout. But she wanted to be selectively honest. It would be too embarrassing to tell him the whole truth; about Doctor Yamamoto discovering her masturbating in the upstairs restroom on Wednesday and installing the clit clock on her the next morning as some bizarre form of treatment. She hoped to pass off the Model O as a personal choice and simply say that she got carried away with it on the exercise bike.
Elise arrived at 9:00AM. Doctor Peters had already made coffee. This eliminated one potential source of their interaction. Elise exchanged polite hellos with each of the three men on the first floor, then sat down at her little desk and got to work.
“Elise,” Doctor Peters called down to her from his dais ten minutes later, “Doctor Yamamoto is leaving early today, to get a head-start on his weekend. So, he’ll probably need you upstairs fairly soon.”
“Oh,” Elise replied, “So… should I go ahead and change into my uniform now?”
“That would be best, thank you. And Elise?”
Elise stood from her chair: “Yes, Doctor Peters?”
“As soon as you’re in uniform, I’d like to see you up here. We need to talk about your performance yesterday.”
“Oh…” Elise felt her face flush. Her mind stuck on Doctor Peters’ use of the word ‘performance.’ He must be referring to the injury she had faked. Or, she considered, perhaps he was referring to the pathetic, kneeling orgasm she’d had right in front of him. Or maybe he meant there was a problem with her actual work performance. There were many possibilities and none were good. Elise suddenly felt too warm in her street clothes. She hurried to the closet with a hushed “Okay, Doctor Peters.”
Elise shut herself into the big walk-in where all her candy striper outfits were stored. She had not yet considered what to wear today, and now her mind was preoccupied with all the various explanations she might need to give Doctor Peters. She absentmindedly lifted a halter top dress of cream-colored silk by its hanger. She held the dress up against her skin, and then against her two pairs of ankle-strap high heeled sandals. She decided it looked more innocent with the pearl-colored shoes. Today she wanted to appear as sweet and innocent as possible for Doctor Peters, to compensate for her wanton display the prior evening.
Elise hung the little dress on the back of the door and stripped off her clothes. The halter dress was completely backless, so that meant her bra was out of the question. She was soon barefoot and naked save only for her high-cut lace thong. Elise stood for a moment, alone in the closet, thinking. She considered what Doctor Peters’ reaction would be when she told him about the Model O. Instinctively her right hand found its way down to the front of her panties and toyed with the little donut-shaped collar that had encircled her clit for the past twenty-four hours. What would he say? What would he think?
Elise was awash in self-doubt. In the absence of any real plan, she decided the best thing to do was make herself as pretty as possible. Maybe that would entice Doctor Peters to be more forgiving. She hoped so. She didn’t want to think about the alternative: being dismissed from the internship and sent ataşehir escort bayan home to her parents’ house in Arizona.
Elise pulled the silk halter dress off its hanger. She noticed how light it was. It draped from her hand as weightlessly as a silk scarf.
“Wow,” Elise thought as she carefully stepped into the dress. “This sure feels fragile. I hope it’s not too see-through.”
Once the garment was up around her waist, Elise raised the two loose ends of the halter top up over her petite breasts and carefully tied them together in a bow behind her neck. Then she shook the unlined dress down and let it drape naturally against her body. She immediately realized it was much too short. The dress’ lower hem ended several inches above her crotch. Its two daringly rounded side slits reached up nearly to her waist.
Frustrated, Elise twisted around to check the little tag that hung inside the rear flap of the dress, which, she also noticed, failed to cover her butt. The label indicated it was a size zero.
“Dammit,” Elise whispered, “I’m sure I told him I was a size 2! Why are there so many size zeros in here?”
To make the dress fit, Elise untied the bow holding up the halter top and let out as much free length as possible, leaving just enough to retie the ends in a simple knot behind her neck. Once that was done, Elise looked down and was pleased to see the dress hung long enough to cover her panties in front and her bottom behind. But now the halter top plunged very low between her breasts, almost to her navel. It made the proportions of the dress look a little odd, she thought.
Elise ran her hands down her lower back and felt that the fabric of the dress did not start until below her sacroiliac dimples. Her back, sides and arms were entirely naked. But at least now the dress covered her butt, she reminded herself. She tucked the waist of her pink thong down an inch lower on her hips so that it would not show above the dress. It was worrisome though, that between the dress’ gaping u-shaped side slits and backless design, her rear was left covered by a mere square foot of silk dangling by its top two corners. The slightest breeze would wreak havoc with her modesty.
“Well,” Elise consoled herself quietly, “at least I don’t need to wear this outside in the wind. Now, I just need to pick some stockings. Then I’ll suffer through whatever lecture Doctor Peters is about to give me.”
Elise looked through all the unopened stockings on the shelf. She wanted a white pair that was as plain as possible. She found one labeled ‘white fishnet’ and opened it. Inside she discovered not two gartered stockings as she expected, but rather a conjoined pair of waist-high pantyhose. They were indeed white and fishnet, however, which Elise thought would look good beneath the cream-colored dress.
“Well that’s nice,” she considered, “these will give me a bit more coverage.”
Elise stretched the elastic hose between her hands. The diamond-shaped openings in the fishnet weave grew from coffee-straw diameter to the width of a pencil. Each intersection of thread was tied in a sturdy knot.
“Hmm,” she thought, “I wonder if you’re supposed to wear these with panties or instead of? They’re almost like tights and my pink underwear is probably gonna show through this dress anyway… or creep up too high in back again, so….”
Elise thought about the conversation she was about to have with Doctor Peters. He would probably ask to see the Model O once she used it as her excuse for her behavior yesterday. If she put on these pantyhose over her thong, she’d have to roll them both down in order to show him the device. If she wore the fishnet hose without panties, she could probably get away with just lifting the front of her dress. The openings in the fishnet were wide enough that Doctor Peters would probably be able to discern the Model O through them.
“Keep it simple,” Elise told herself. She set the pantyhose aside and pulled her lace panties down until they fell to the floor. She stepped out of them and pulled the fishnet hose on in their place.
The pantyhose fit perfectly. If Elise could have watched herself from behind, even she would have appreciated the way their diamond pattern stretched wider and wider and she pulled them up past her thighs onto her round bottom. The most distended squares, the ones stretched taut across the swell of each butt cheek, became as wide as a man’s finger.
From her toes to her waist Elise became wrapped in a crisscrossing mesh of white nylon. The material clung to her curves so tightly that it looked painted-on. Each knot created a miniscule dimple in her butter-soft skin.
Unlike real pantyhose, these lacked any sort of double layering in the crotch area or toes. This meant Elise’s waxed privates were caged behind a lattice of white thread but otherwise naked. The central seam that held the two halves of the pantyhose together descended escort kadıöy vertically down her front, bisecting her twin outer labia. Just above that crease, the highly-polished torus of the Model O pressed the head of her clit prominently outward, ensuring it would be exposed to every tug and twist the fabric might deliver. The central seam continued under her naked crotch, tight against her perineum and anus, disappearing between her butt cheeks before re-emerging at her tailbone where it rejoined the pantyhose’s thin waistband.
Satisfied that the hose were on correctly, Elise let the front and rear flaps of her little dress go and observed how they draped over her netted skin. She liked the way the dress’ open side slits showed the fishnet pattern continuing uninterrupted from her legs to her waist. She took care to push the waistband of the pantyhose down a bit so it would not peek out above the low back of the dress.
Elise grabbed the skinny pearl sandals off their shelf and stepped up onto them. The shoes raised her standing height from 5’3″ to 5’7″ and exaggerated her already disproportionately long legs to an extreme degree below her compact torso. She secured the shoes’ thin straps around her ankles. Then she cleaned her discarded clothes from the floor and folded them all away neatly.
She had remembered, this time, to bring her purse and cosmetics bag into the closet so she could fully prepare herself before stepping out to Doctor Peters’ office. Elise opened a small hand mirror and began to fix her make-up and hair. She pulled the elastic band from her ponytail and brushed her long hair straight until it hung down in a ‘V’ passed the middle of her back. Then she used two little silver clips to secure her long forelocks behind her ears. Satisfied with her hair, she put on a dangly pair of silver earrings and then got to work on her makeup; thin lines of dark green eyeliner to set-off her hazel eyes, light swipes of mascara on her lashes, subtle gold glitter on her neck and chest, a layer of light pink lipstick and, lastly, clear lip-gloss over her lipstick to give her mouth an extra bit of glistening sexiness.
“Jesus,” Elise whispered, “all this to escape a little scolding. I must really not want to be sent home!”
She put away her cosmetics and smoothed the front of her dress down over her breasts. The twin bumps of her nipples under the silk were obvious from her vantage point, but she felt they would be much subtler when viewed from someone else’s perspective. The halter straps seemed to want to narrow themselves though, which Elise thought exposed a little too much side-boob. She spread each strap wider and pressed them to her breasts, wishing she had some double-sided tape to hold them in place. She worried that if she leaned forward too far the fabric would hang away, leaving her young breasts dangling naked in midair.
“Well,” Elise considered, “at least the waist chain will remind me to keep my back straight. That should keep me out of trouble.”
She ran her hands up and down her netted legs one more time to make sure the hose lay smoothly against her skin. Beneath the little front flap of the dress she carefully adjusted the crotch of the pantyhose, making sure the seam was centered and that the Model O had not gotten tangled up in the netting. Beneath her wandering fingers, she could feel how large the nub of her clit was. It bulged from the metal torus like a mushroom cap.
Why was it, Elise wondered, that wearing these outfits always made her so horny?
She toyed with her clit for a few moments, then slid her other hand beneath the front of the dress too. While her right hand played with the Model O, she traced the fingers of her left hand along the little trench between her labia majora. The seam of her pantyhose was nestled quite deeply inside. She teased the tip of her pinky finger through the nylon netting and briefly slipped it between her inner labia. She was soft and squishy inside.
“Okay, I have to stop doing this!” Elise scolded herself, withdrawing her hands from her crotch. “Otherwise, I’m going to get in so much trouble.”
“Ting…” the Model O chimed, sending a resonant tremor through her clit.
“Dammit!” Elise whispered, “Not now… I need to be good!”
“Ting… ting… ting…” the clit clock resounded with unwavering precision.
Elise grabbed the shelving for support as the twelve chimes of the Model O slowly unleashed themselves upon her distended clitoris. She had thought she would be more accustomed to the device by now, but when she was already turned-on like this its chimes were breathtaking. They felt like delicate flicks from a bionic tongue. The real killer though was their resonance — it rang her clit like a tiny church bell. Elise closed her eyes. By the seventh chime her knees dipped. If not for her grip on the shelves, she would have sunk to the floor.
The final five chimes left Elise whimpering maltepe escort with pent-up arousal. When it was over she remained motionless for a few heartbeats. Part of her body wanted the chiming to restart. Instead, she consciously focused on breathing away the pleasure that echoed in her clit. Eventually she straightened up to her full height again. She slipped a hand back under the front flap of her dress and cupped her sex. As she feared, her entire vagina felt swollen and warm.
“Okay, okay,” she mumbled after removing her hand, “just take a moment. Get a grip. You can do this.”
Elise wiped her hands off on her folded jeans and then smoothed her silk dress down again. She twisted around one more time to make sure the waist of her pantyhose was not showing above the dress’ low back.
Satisfied that she looked presentable, Elise re-entered the office.
Doctor Peters immediately called her over. Elise walked up onto the carpet dais and stopped at the nearest corner of his wide wooden desk.
“No, no,” Arthur said irritably, “come all the way around here. I want to see this outfit you’ve chosen.”
Elise looped her fingers together behind her bare back and dutifully walked around Doctor Peters’ desk until she was standing in front of him. Her nervous muscles could not help gently twisting her body from side to side. Her seated boss inspected her from head to toe.
“You’re all in white,” Doctor Peters began, “with no stripes anywhere. And that dress fits you funny. Turn around.”
Elise’s heart sank. The doctor seemed to be in an unforgiving mood. She shuffled her steeply inclined feet around until her back was to him.
Arthur realized it was the first time he had seen her with her hair down. She looked adorable and sexy. But he was not going to cave so easily. Not by a long shot.
“Move your hair so I can see,” he instructed.
Elise reached both hands behind her head, gathered her long auburn locks and pulled them forward over one shoulder. She then let her hands fall slack at her sides.
“I think I see what you’ve done wrong,” Arthur said as he rose from his chair.
Elise felt his huge body approaching. He stopped right behind her. Then his hands were on the knot that held up her halter top.
“Doctor Peters, wait!” she spluttered.
“You’ve tied this too low… I remember from the pictures that this dress is supposed to be tied in a nice bow behind your neck, not this ugly little knot. Don’t worry… I’m going to fix it for you.”
By then he already had the knot untied. Elise clutched her chest, desperate to make sure her little boobs stayed hidden as Arthur dragged the dress higher on her body. Once he had four or five inches of slack to work with, he re-tied the halter top in a bow behind her neck and patted her gently on both shoulders.
“There,” he said, “that should fix the dress, now we just need to sort the rest of it so we can finally get on with our little talk.”
“But Doctor Peters,” Elise whined, “Look at how short this is now!”
Elise turned to face him, clutching the front hem of the dress, trying to pull it lower. It was useless though. The dress ended above her crotch.
Arthur pretended not to notice: “Your hair needs to be in a ponytail… or up in some way. This is a lab after all, and we can’t risk having all that long hair getting sucked into a fan or something. Afterhours you can wear it however you like, but while you’re on duty you need to wear it up, okay?”
“Okay,” Elise muttered. “I have some hair ties in the closet. Do you want me to fix it now?”
“Yes. And do you have more of that pink ribbon you used the other day?”
“Umm, yeah. I brought a whole spool from home. It’s in my bag.”
“Good. Bring the whole thing out here. I have an idea.”
Elise retreated to the closet clutching the back flap of her dress so it would not fly up when she stepped down off the dais. She fetched the spool of pink satin ribbon from her bag, as well as the cut piece she had used the other day as a hair tie. When she got back to Doctor Peters’ desk, he took the spool of ribbon from her and told her to use the existing piece to fix her hair up in a high ponytail. While Elise did this, Doctor Peters sat back down and retrieved a pair of scissors from one of his desk drawers. Elise watched as he cut two equal lengths of ribbon from the spool.
“Okay Elise,” Doctor Peters began, “come closer and turn around again, right here.”
He pointed at the carpet between his feet. Elise felt renewed embarrassment about her dress being so short now that she was going to have to stand with her bottom right in front of his face. She tip-toed forward in her tall heels until her knees were between his, touching his leather chair, then she slowly turned around.
She stopped once her back was to him and stood with her pert little bottom stuck out. Her posture was less a choice than a consequence dictated by her steep heels and snug belly chain. Her entire back was naked. The dress’ rear, a mere flap of tissue-thin cream colored silk, lay draped across her arched tailbone. The flap ended just below the middle of her ass, leaving the net-stretching swells of her lower butt cheeks exposed.
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