The hand then continued upward, first sliding up and under her turtleneck–again that warmth, now on her lower back, then drifting down again, this time dwindling again to one small moth-touch, now tracing the top of her panties, now slipping–oh god–beneath the elastic. Oh no, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t pull down her panties, would he? She would die of shame.
But no: the finger seemed to be gathering up the material as if he were going to pull her panties up. He was pulling them up, tighter–she could feel them pulling between her cheeks–and tighter! They were beginning to…oh my god, she could feel the pressure on her…oh god, oh god, oh….
The pressure gradually eased off as he removed his hand. She felt her panties loosen slightly. Thank goodness. Now they were done, she was sure.
“All right…stand and face me.”
She did so, relieved to feel her dress falling back into place. She said, “Please, are we done? Can I go home now?”
He shook his head and replied, “Mm-mm,” as casually as if she’d just asked if he knew the time.
He suddenly leaned forward and took her by the wrists, staring into her eyes. “You don’t get it yet, do you? From now on you’re my slave.”
Jane felt a jolt of ice in her stomach and her mouth fell open in dismay.
He released her and sat back. “I think you need a little review. What do you have to do?”
She swallowed, and forced herself to say the words. “W-whatever you tell me.”
He nodded. “Mm-hm. So what are you?”
Oh god, he’s right, she thought.
“I’m…your…slave?” She phrased it as a question, even though she knew it wasn’t.
He nodded again, as if encouraging her. “That’s right…slave. And what else are you?”
Her mind went blank. Then she remembered. “I’m…a little…s-slut.”
Oh god.
“Very good. So that means from now on you’re my little slut, right?”
It seemed to Jane that he was holding his breath as he waited for her answer, but she had no idea why. He knew she had no choice, didn’t he?
Again she forced herself to speak. “Y-yes.” She started to look down in embarrassment but caught herself in time. “I’m your li-little slut.”
There it was again: his eyes went wide, just for an instant. As if he couldn’t believe what was happening any more than she could. Then it was gone.
He nodded a third time. “Good. Don’t forget.”
He held her in his gaze again. “Now, slave, I want you to say, ‘Please, may I…” he watched her face as he concluded, “take off my dress for you?'”
Jane, shocked in spite of everything that had already happened, opened her mouth to argue, to plead.
His eyes blazed and he started to rise to his feet. Immediately she fell silent.
After a moment he slowly resumed his seat. “You were about to say something, slave?”
Well, she thought, he’s already seen my panties, what difference can it make now?
She took a slow breath and let it out. “Please…m-may I take off my dress for you?”
“You may.” He leaned back against the wall and looked up at her as if waiting for a movie to begin.
She reached both hands behind her neck to unfasten and begin unzipping her jumper, then reached behind her to complete the job, looking at him all the while. Then she slowly pulled down first one shoulder of the dress, then the other. She pulled her arms out of the sleeve-holes. The front of her dress now hung below her waist. She stopped for a moment, as if considering, then tugged at the waistline of her dress, which slid slowly down over her hips and puddled at her feet. She stood with her arms at her sides.
Even though she wasn’t really any more exposed than she had been before she certainly felt as if she were. Especially since the contours of her small breasts were now plainly visible under her turtleneck, as he had plainly noticed.
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Very good. Now let’s find out if you’ve learned anything. What do you think your next question should be?”
She didn’t have to think about it for long, and she knew now there was no way to avoid it. “Please, may I take off my sweater for you?”
He gave her a thin smile of approval. “Very good, slave. You may.”
She wasted no time trying to delay the inevitable. She crossed her arms in front of her and pulled the turtleneck over her head in one smooth motion, dropping it on the floor beside her. Her bra matched her panties, and she felt obscurely glad about that fact. No worse than a bathing suit, she told herself desperately, dropping her hands back to her sides.
He looked at her for a long moment without speaking.
She had been too overwhelmed before to notice but now she became aware that his breath, too, was unsteady. And there, again: something in his eyes…what was it?
Then it was gone again as he spoke. “Stand with your feet apart and put your hands behind your head.”
She did so, and instantly became very much aware of how this position made her breasts more prominent, and even more aware that he knew it. He was looking at them now–his gaze almost like a touch as it moved slowly down from her face to her breasts, down her waist to linger on her panties for a moment, then just as slowly back up.
He leaned back again, as if to take in the whole picture.
“Close your eyes.”
She did so. Nothing happened for a moment. In the darkness behind her eyes she became aware of sounds and smells–the low hum of the ventilation system, the gurgling pipes, the disinfectant odor of the bathroom, the growing sense of warmth near her stomach…
When she felt his hand there she started and inadvertently began to open her eyes, then shut them again, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
Now everything else, the sounds and smells, vanished, leaving only the feel of his hand, warm–hot!–on her stomach.
For a moment it simply rested there, covering her navel. Then it began to move, at first making only the tiniest of circles, which gradually grew wider and wider until his hand was circling her whole abdomen, but slowly…so slowly.
It really felt wonderful, she admitted to herself, even if she really shouldn’t be allowing it. So soothing, after she’d been so scared and upset.
She felt herself relax a little, her head falling back slightly. She had to keep herself from sighing audibly. And it felt almost natural when the slow circle of warmth continued to rise until it covered her left breast, fondling and molding it through the thin cloth of her bra.
Oh god, she really was a little slut, not only letting this boy she hardly knew touch her like that, but enjoying it. Oh, but she shouldn’t be enjoying it, mustn’t let him know. Could he hear how her breath was rasping in and out of her mouth? Mustn’t let him think she was letting him do it for any other reason than because she had to. What was that? There was a tingling, almost bursting sensation in the tip of her breast.
Oh my god, my nipple is getting hard! Maybe he won’t see it through my bra! Don’t let him see it, don’t let him see it…
But when she felt her nipple gently but firmly seized between two fingers, she couldn’t help herself–she gasped. And then she felt his other hand on her right breast, doing the same thing–squeezing it, molding it, circling the nipple until it too popped up, then seizing it, pinching and gently pulling it in time with the other.