Thursday Evening

Marta sat in the middle of a packed theatre, knowing that she couldn’t hold out much longer, that she was going to cum, and cum hard. She also knew she would probably be loud, and messy, and humiliate herself in public. Worse, she couldn’t close her legs, and the people in front of her, when they turned around, would be able to look right up her skirt at her naked cunt as she was cumming.

And worse still, she found herself wanting it to happen. It was making her so wet!

Encrypticom™ Offices, Thursday Morning

Thesea leaned back against the credenza, nodding to Margrit Larsen, the Black female CEO of Encrypticom. “Yes, James Gainsborough is definitely the target, but somehow a woman name of Dr. Marta Rabinovich is involved.”

“And who is Marta Rabinovich when she’s at home?” Larsen asked.

Thesea looked up at the ceiling, her black ringlet curls falling around her shoulders and a small smile on her lips. “Rabinovich is perhaps the world’s leading quantum physicist. She works at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton.”

“Oh, right, I remember now: James had us approach her about doing some work on using quantum computing for encryption. She turned us down flat, right?”

“Yes.”

Margrit looked at her security investigator, tilted her head to one side, and said, “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

Thesea looked down from the ceiling and smiled, “Gainsborough is banging the good Dr. Rabinovich. Hard.”

Margrit looked at the woman opposite, and her mouth dropped open. “What? James is having an affair with someone he’s trying to hire? That really doesn’t sound like him.”

“But true.” Thesea stood there, a quiet smile on her face.

Margrit leaned back and thought. “Okay, I have no idea what’s going on, but keep an eye on things. We’ve got to find out what Kanrith is up to before he gets too far with his little schemes.” Then she smiled. “And perhaps James has finally found someone who can keep up with him. I hope so!”

Extortion and Exposure: Marta

“So, Dr. Kanrith, let me see if I have this straight. You are threatening to have my Ph.D. called into question with a bogus claim that I plagiarized large sections of it. Said claims will be made by my thesis advisor, whom you have bribed or blackmailed, unless I agree to consult with you. Do I understand you rightly?”

This person, Dr. Val Kanrith, had forced his way into my office late this morning, insisting that we needed to have lunch, “for our mutual benefit.” He told me he wanted to engage my services to help with an encryption system for Encrypticom, even though I told him I had already turned down Dr. Gainsborough’s approach on the same subject.

He informed me that James would soon be forced out of the company, and he would return as CEO.

That rang a bell. I recalled what James had told me about Kanrith; he was a psychopath whom James had earlier fired as CEO.

Realizing I might learn something useful to James, I had accepted Kanrith’s invitation to lunch, then excused myself to the Ladies’. From there I had called Margrit Larsen, told her what was going on, then turned on the Voice Memo feature of my phone, and left the line with Larsen open so she could eavesdrop on my conversation with Kanrith.

“Let’s just say that things will be so much easier if we can come to an agreement,” said Kanrith. “And we will be very generous in supporting your research. I far prefer a carrot to a stick, don’t you?”

I glared at him. “I prefer not to be threatened with extortion. And what about Dr. Gainsborough and Encrypticom management?”

“Well, Jimmie boy is about to have major publicity problems, and there’s a private equity firm that’s going to raid his company’s stock. Plus, his Senate guardian is being reassigned.

“Jimmie’s going to be out on his ass, where he belongs. Turns out he’s been swanning around with a hooker, and they’ve been cavorting in public. The newspapers will eat him alive!”

Kanrith dropped two photos on the table. They were both of me, taken at dinner the other night, probably by “Andromeda.”

[img]https://upload.lushstories.com/973655228-Hooker photos.jpg[/img]

My heart stopped as I recognized myself in the photos. “Are you trying to be insulting?”

“Oh, I agree this tart is a shocking insult to decent people. She’s clearly some high-priced whore he picked up.”

I realized that I had been wearing so much make-up that night that Kanrith did not recognize me, but I was desperately scared by this man.

I stood up. “I’ll think about your proposal,” and left.

~~~~~

Kanrith smiled. He was pretty sure he knew what her answer would have to be. He called for the check.

Meanwhile, Marta put the phone to her ear. “Are you there Ms. Larsen?”

“Please, call me Margrit. Yes, we recorded it all. You’ve been a tremendous help to us, Dr. Rabinovich…”

“Call me Marta.”

“…Marta, then. I think we can put a spoke in Kanrith’s wheel. But be careful. He’s a very dangerous man.”

“I realize that now.”

“And we’ll also look into his threatened allegations about your thesis. Since he admitted to trying to extort you, we know some people in the British government who will take a serious interest in this. Leave it with us.”

Marta spent the afternoon worrying over Kanrith’s proposed extortion, then decided that Margrit could probably achieve more than Marta could.

As a result, when it was time for her to leave for Sir’s condo, she decided she’d try to ignore Kanrith for now. She’d talk to James about it later, once he’d had his way with her – something she was eagerly looking forward to! She decided to focus on that, and headed for his condo.

That Evening: Marta

I arrived at Sir’s place more feeling equal parts scared and excited, because I knew he had a surprise waiting for me. I was also worried about what had happened earlier today, but suspected I wouldn’t get a chance to talk about it until both of us had cum – and I knew he was going to keep me waiting for that.

This was especially hard for me as I was desperate to cum. My Lord had ordered me to masturbate every night since the weekend, but forbidden me from cumming. As a result, I was so horny I could barely see straight, despite my worries.

So, when I got to the door of Sir’s condo, I was already soaking. My breathing was shallow, and I thought I was ready for just about anything.

In any event, I was dying to be fucked.

I unlocked on the door, knocked, then eagerly pushed it open.

There was no one there, which surprised me. I walked in and shouted, “Pussy delivery! Get it while it’s hot!”

Nothing. I stopped, but didn’t hear anything.

Somewhat let down, I put my keys down, took off my coat, and went into the bedroom to wash up. And that’s when it started.

On the bed was a tray with a brand-new set of collar and cuffs, bright red;  and two, big, white boxes, one from one of New York’s most expensive women’s stores, and the other unmarked. Plus, a shoe box from a prestigious shoe designer, whose shoes I had always craved.

And a note.

I opened the note, which read, “Time for an adventure, wouldn’t you agree? Wash up, get naked, put on your new collar and cuffs, then read the rest of the note.”

Since I knew by now that when Sir gives an order, he means for it to be strictly followed, I didn’t unfold the note to read any further. Instead, I shucked off my clothes, folding, sorting, hanging, or depositing them as appropriate, then went into the bathroom.

After using the facilities, and taking a quick shower, I went back to the bedroom. Before putting them on, I noticed that Sir had duplicated the tag from my original dog collar, the one that said “I AM A SLUT, A CUNT, AND A COCKSUCKER,” only now the letters were in red on a black background so they could be read by anyone facing me at conversational distance. I shivered slightly, put on the new collar and cuffs, locked them into place, then picked up the note, unfolded it, and read further.

“The dress is custom made for you, so I know it will fit. It’s new, and very high tech. It’s actually woven from optical fiber, and can change colors and patterns – or go completely transparent – all with the flip of a switch.”

I gulped at that. It sounded like he was planning on exposing me in public somewhere. That was usually wet-making – and always scary. I read on.

“Get dressed (no underwear, of course), leave your purse, and go downstairs. A car will be waiting for you. Get in. You’ll find another note there.

“And I really look forward to seeing all of you later tonight!”

By now I was breathing hard, and wondered if I needed to take another shower before I went, as my natural sent is strong, and what Sir calls his favorite perfume – the smell of my cunt when I’m excited – can be quite nose-worthy. I was pretty sure he wanted it that way.

I sure hoped I wasn’t going anywhere public tonight!

Shaking my head, I opened the big, plain box, and there was what looked like a simple, black, but very elegant, sheath dress, the classic “little black number.” It sparkled, but it looked too small.

I picked it up, and the fabric felt wonderfully soft and warm, despite being sparkly – not at all what I expected from spun glass. I wondered if he was just messing with my head on the optical fiber thing.

There was a simple, black and white designer label from a famous Parisian couture house, which also read, “Fashioned for Marta.”

It had a thin, metallic, pale gold band, about a quarter of an inch thick, like a narrow pencil, running all around the collar in an unbroken line. It was flexible, but didn’t stretch, and the opening was just large enough for me to slip my head through.

There was no zipper at the back of the dress, but the material itself was stretchy so that I was able to slip it over and pull it down into place, falling relatively modestly to about three inches above my knees. It fit like a glove, clung to me, felt marvellously sensuous, and when I looked in the mirror, it left nothing to the imagination.

You could absolutely see, for instance, that I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties, and you could see my nipples as if the dress were painted on rather than worn. And the shape hugged my crotch and showed my ass as if I were naked. I gulped.

I didn’t see how I could be more exposed if it were transparent. But it did feel amazing. Just wearing it for an evening would probably be enough to bring me off.

Then I opened the other box, and found a classic, 1950’s style coat, black, with a broad, leopard-print belt. It was gorgeous, and, when I looked at the label, found that it actually was a 1950s-vintage coat, made of vicuna, but with a brand-new lining, which also sported a “Fashioned for Marta” label. It felt as sensual as the dress.

I slipped it on, and immediately knew what people meant when they said they were “wrapped in luxury.” The coat and dress amounted to an indecent proposal, all on their own. I took the coat off again because it was also amazingly warm.

The shoes were the same color red as my collar and cuffs, and seemed almost more art than footwear, which was to be expected from this maker. They also had 4-inch heels, which are higher than I normally wear. I would have to be careful walking.

I pulled them out, finally figured how to strap them on as the clasps were unusually complicated, and locked into place, and could only be unlocked with care and difficulty. I stood up and walked over to the mirror.

With my still-wet hair, the clinging dress, and high-heeled stilts, Sir would say I looked like “high-priced pooka.” Or Cinderella at the ball, if Cinderella had been a slut with business on her mind.

I ducked into the bathroom, added the Cocksucker Red lipstick, which matched my collar and cuffs (not by accident), some gold-dust eye-shadow, some reddish blush on my cheeks, and I was ready to find the spot marked X and lay down on it. Or get laid on it…

Gathering up the coat, I left the condo with nothing that would identify me, no money, no keys, and no way home. I was almost as helpless, and notionally as naked, as when I first bound myself outside his condo door.

I put the coat on in the elevator, smiled and said hi to Joe the concierge, then walked out to find a limo waiting with the engine running. I took a shivery breath, and got in.

Orders

There was no one in the back seat of the limo. There was a box and, as promised, an envelope that said “Read Me First.” I put on my seatbelt, and the limo immediately started off. I could already smell my excitement in the confines of the limo.

I picked up the envelope, flipped it open, and took out the note.

“I can’t wait to see how you look. I’m sure you’re gorgeous, as always, and I’m sure everyone where you’re going will agree.

“You’ll need the enclosed ticket to get in. Once inside, go to the restroom, and open this box in one of the stalls. There’s another note inside.

“As always, should you fail in your mission, I will disavow any knowledge of your actions.

“Good luck, Maria.” All of which was decidedly odd.

I looked at the ticket. It was for a reserved seat at one of the major downtown cinemas. The movie was – oh, fuck! – the premier of the latest Star Wars movie! The place was going to be swarming with Leias, Lukes, wookies, Reys, and teenage hormones! What the hell was Sir thinking?

I guess I’d have to wait to find out.

When the limo arrived at the cinema, the place was heaving with people, mostly pre-teens and teens, but with a generous smattering of older people, many of the crowd of all ages in costumes.

The limo attracted a lot of attention, and camera flashes started going off all around me. The limo driver hustled over, opened the door, and handed me out. I swivelled sideways, closed my knees, put my very high heels on the ground, and, with help, levered myself out and stood up, bringing the box with me.

Now there were even more flashes, and even some shouted comments. There was no question that I was overdressed – or over-undressed – for the occasion, and it was clear that some of the mob thought I must be one of the cast members or something. Whatever the reason, I was getting a lot of attention.

I walked away from the limo, looking for the entrance, and saw a line snaking around the block. I didn’t fancy standing in that, but didn’t really see an alternative.

As I turned to find the end of the line, I heard a voice, “Ms. Esteban? Would you please come this way? I think we can avoid the line-up for you.” It was a middle-aged man, looking as if he might be the manager of the cinema. He offered his arm, and I took it, walking carefully in the high heels.

“Thank you.”

He guided me around the crowds, in through a far entry door where an usher stood, holding it open. As we went through it, he closed the door behind us, and pulled the locking bar up. We went up a long escalator, emerging in a darkened area with pools of light around the concession stands, an area where there were video games, and a bar for alcoholic beverages.

“Mr. Gainsborough asked me to hold your coat for you. And may I get you something? Popcorn, wine, anything?”

I shucked off my coat and handed it to him, then shook my head and smiled, “No, but thanks.” His eyes widened as he looked at the dress – or rather, me through the dress.

The manager cleared his throat, told me the movie would start in about an hour, and suggested I find my seat before the hoards were allowed in, any time now. He took my coat, gave a small bow, and walked away.

I was feeling slightly stunned and disoriented – which was fairly typical for one of Sir’s more complex escapades. He liked to keep me off-balance. I just wondered what was next.

I found the ladies’ room, went in, locked myself in a stall, and opened the box.

Inside was an egg vibrator, an empty slot for the remote control, a small bottle of lubricant, an earpiece, and a note, which read, “You’d better use the toilet. The movie is almost 3 hours long, and you won’t want to miss any of it.

“Then, put the egg in your cunt, and the earpiece in one ear.

“Once you are seated in the theatre, you are not to get up from your seat for any reason until the final credits are finished. If you do, your dress will turn transparent. Oh, and one more thing: keep your knees at least 12 inches apart at all times. Failure to do so could be embarrassing.

“Enjoy the show! I’m sure others will…”

I swallowed hard, pulled up my dress, then sat down on the toilet. It was hard to pee because of my anxiety, but I knew I absolutely had to, and eventually did. While seated, I fitted the earpiece in my right ear, but heard nothing.

Once I was finished peeing, I took the tube of lube, squeezed some on my fingers, rubbed it all over the egg, then carefully inserted it inside myself. I stood up, wriggled a bit, leaned over and adjusted it slightly, and stood up again. I could barely feel it – now. I had no illusions about whether I’d feel it later.

Taking some toilet paper, I wiped the excess lubricant off my hands, then pulled the dress back down, taking more care to avoid getting lube on it than getting it perfectly in place. I left the stall, holding the box, which I tossed in the waste bin, and went to wash my hands.

Once my hands were dry, I stood up, looked in the mirror, and adjusted my dress. Suddenly, with no warning, the dress seemed to vanish, and I was standing there, stark naked, wearing only my collar and cuffs, plus the gold collar of the dress. I froze, and my heart started thumping in my chest. The two or three other women in the room didn’t seem to notice, but one of them must have seen something flicker in the corner of her eye, for she started to turn her head towards me.

Then the dress was back, looking as opaque and solid as it had before.

I knew what had happened, I just didn’t know how. Sir had arranged a demonstration to prove that the dress actually was made of optical fiber, and that he could leave me naked at any moment if I didn’t obey him completely. I gulped. Getting through a three-hour movie with Sir playing with my cunt was, indeed, going to be a Mission Impossible.

~~~~~

While Marta contemplated her future, another woman left the restroom, slipped under the guide ropes, and into the theatre where Marta would be seated. She checked her earpiece, asked for a sound check, then took a seat one row back, and two seats over from what would be Marta’s. She glanced at the low-light cameras placed around the theatre, found that all four had red lights on, indicating that they were working, then waited for her quarry’s arrival.

She had black hair that hung in ringlets to her shoulders. Her name was Thesea.

The Adventure Begins: Marta

As I was leaving the restroom, I heard the thundering hoard pounding up the stairs and knew there was going to be a flood of people entering the theatre soon. I hurried over to the ticket taker, handed him my ticket, found which theatre it was, and walked quickly on in.

The usher asked to see my ticket. She looked quizzically at my dress, as if to say it was too much, then walked me to the row in which I was seated. It was right in the middle of the theatre. “You’re in here, halfway down,” she said, then turned and walked back to the entrance.

I was going to be seated right in the middle of a large group of people, mostly teenagers, while Sir played with my cunt. I swallowed hard, and moved into the row, finding my seat, as she said, right in the middle. Since I wasn’t going to get out for anything, I guess it didn’t matter where I was. I guess.

I stood by my seat and decided not to sit down until the movie started. I didn’t want to have to let people pass as once I sat down, since I was prohibited from getting up for any reason.

There was a surge of noise, and then people started filing in to the theatre. They were, in the main, not rushing because all of the seats were reserved. People kept filing in, and some eventually moved into my row, mostly on one side or another. A few squeezed by me with a muttered “Excuse me,” but one guy stopped short and looked me up and down.

“Holy shit!” he said, which made his girlfriend punch his arm and say to me, “Sorry, I haven’t got him paper-trained yet,” then they moved past. They sat down a couple of seats away with his girlfriend beside me. He kept craning his neck in my direction until his girlfriend spoke sharply to him. I turned away from him, then thought better of it, and turned edge on to avoid giving him a better view of my ass.

Eventually, all of the seats were filled – except for the one immediately on my left. That worried me as it smelled of something Sir would do, and I wondered who he had seated next to me.

Then the lights went down, the ads started, and everyone sat down. Reluctantly, I followed suit, knowing that I was now committed for at least three hours – plus commercials and ads.

The problem was, though, that the seat was low, and, with my high heels, my knees were higher than my seat. And since I had to keep my knees spread, it meant that anyone in front of me could turn and look up my dress.

Clearly, Sir was up to his foresighted tricks again. He knew exactly what he wanted to accomplish when he ordered the four-inch heels with the complex buckles.

I couldn’t think of a thing I could do about this except choose which direction I was flashing my cunt. I tried dropping one knee, or even both knees, but the bottom hem of the dress was too tight, and the heels were too high, to make that manageable for more than a second or two. I was going to have to hope that I didn’t draw much attention from the rows in front of me.

Faint hope.

Just then, I heard a familiar voice in my ear. “Good evening, slut. Are you looking forward to the movie?”

I didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t see anyone to say it to, so kept still.

“Oh, it’s all right. I can hear you just fine. Your collar has a delicate microphone. If you speak, even quietly, I can hear you. Now: Are you looking forward to the movie?”

Marta swallowed, “I guess?”

Sir chuckled. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, aren’t we?”

And my dress turned from black to white. It was still opaque, but obviously, it didn’t need to stay that way.

I decided I’d better say something, “I’m, uh, looking forward to it?”

The dress turned black again. The people behind me started whispering. Clearly, there was going to be more than a movie on show tonight.

“We’ll talk later. Make yourself…comfy, okay?” And he was gone.

~~~~~

The ads finished, and were on the second trailer when I heard someone saying, “Excuse me, I’m sorry,…” from my right. I turned to look, and wasn’t really surprised to see Sammi making her way along the row. She reached me, and threw me a big grin, and said, “May I get past, please Missy?”

I turned sideways, pulled my knees together to let her past – and suddenly, my dress vanished and I was naked. I quickly spread my knees apart again, and almost tripped Sammi in the process. The dress re-appeared. Sammi hadn’t noticed the vanishing dress, but sat down, then turned to speak to me.

Sir’s voice spoke in my ear. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The bottom hem of the dress acts as a pressure switch. If you don’t keep your knees far enough apart, your dress vanishes. Plus, there’s a price to pay when for failing to follow instructions…”

I was looking at the hem of my dress. A red line appeared about an inch from the hem, then that strip of my dress vanished entirely, leaving my dress one-inch shorter than it had been. A dotted line appeared two inches higher still, and then faded to black again.

“Get the picture?”

The message was clear. Next time I put my knees together, I’d lose more of my dress, but this time two-inches higher instead of one.

I felt the bottom hem of the dress. The missing inch was still there, it was just transparent. I got the message.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll keep my knees apart, like a good little slut.”

“Yes, you are. Isn’t this exciting?” And he chuckled again.

~~~~~

“Whoa! What just happened to your dress, Missy?” I was alarmed by Sammi’s loud exclamation. If there was one thing I didn’t want, it was to call more attention to my situation.

“Shhh! Please, Sammi. Not so loud!”

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered. “But what happened?”

I thought for a moment, “Sir happened, that’s what. Sammi, I’m going to need your help.”

“Help with what?” she whispered.

“Umm, it’s hard to say. He’s put me in a potentially exposed position.”

“You mean, like physically exposed?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s part of your top-and-bottom stuff?”

I paused, caught by surprise that she was familiar with that slang, “Yes.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t interfere, like?” she asked.

I stopped, not quite sure what to say. Then a thought occurred. “How did you get to sit here, next to me? I’d guess this show has been sold out for some time.”

“Oh, yeah, MONTHS! There was no way I would ever have been able to score tickets. Sir called me and said he had a ticket for me.”

“Out of the blue.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Did he mention that I’d be here?”

Sammi paused, then blushed. “Uh, yeah?”

“Why are you blushing, Sammi? What’s that about?”

“Uh, well, I kinda thought of it as a sort of – date?”

“With me. Even though you know I’m sleeping with Sir, and I’m your mistress.”

“Yeah. I was kind of hoping we could do another three-way?”

That stopped me. Then the guy behind us leaned over and said, “Hey quiet, huh?”

Sammi turned to him and said, “It’s a trailer, asshole. Shut the fuck up!”

“Cunt,” the guy said, almost under his breath, but sat back.

She turned back to me, “Missy, please, give me a chance. I thought you were hot from the first moment I saw you. And Sir, well, he’s a hunk. And I have never cum like I did with you two!”

I thought quickly, “Sir put you up to this, didn’t he?”

She dropped her eyes, and blushed. “Well, yeaah, he did, but…”

I thought again, “Sammi, I can’t speak for Sir, but I promise you I’ll give you my undivided attention for an hour if you help me…”

“Naked?”

I took a deep breath, “Okay, naked.”

“I’ll take it! And if we can talk Sir into a threesome…”

Just then, a title card came on saying “And now, your feature presentation…”and the curtains drew further back.

“If you two lesbos are done now, can we watch the movie?” the asshole behind us said.

“Up yours, tiny tim,” Sammi said, with a big smile on her face.

Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Thank you. I admire you a bunch. This means so much to me.” She wriggled in her seat, then turned to face the screen.

And the egg inside me started to vibrate. The vibration was slow and gentle, but I knew it wouldn’t stay that way. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t decide if I was incredibly excited, or scared out of my wits, but it was probably both.

I knew what the cumming attraction was… it was me!

To be continued…