part3 « Fetish Review Blog

part3

Lydia rolled her eyes as she chuckled at her colleague’s behavior. With her

innocent coy eyes and lack of makeup, she portrayed a natural beauty. Her deep

brown orbs reflected sympathy with their warm, enticing stare. She was an

optimist and felt everybody needed a fair chance to prove themselves. She hadn’t

officially met Dr. Jones, but she followed his work very closely. In her heart

and mind, she knew that Dr. Jones was probably more human and more real than the

participants in this current childlike discussion. She sat listening to them like

it was just another form of entertainment without any merit whatsoever,

entertaining none the less. She, herself, had received her job because of her

father, General Frank Trent. The government-funded research, that the University

relied on, created a need to keep the relationship congenial between the two

institutions. Her parents had planned her whole life. Her only time of freedom

was in college, where she found her sexuality. Yet, due to her strict upbringing,

she denied herself happiness with her only true love, Kate McCormick. They were

buddies, who had met one fateful Saturday night in the TV lounge at their

dormitory keeping each other company while the rest of the campus partied until

dawn.

“And why are you laughing, Lydia? You should know as well as I do that good men

are hard to find,” stated Dianne, who had always thought of Lydia as an old maid

type. By the time she would get around to try to get a man, her quaint good looks

would be gone and she would be left high and dry. “Or low and wet,” Dianne

thought to herself as she noticed her own growing discomfort between her legs.

She was horny as always.

“Well, as much as I would love to sit around and talk about my sex life, I must

go to my class,” Lydia remarked absconding from the troubling chatter, which by

some strange twist of fate she had been forced into.

“She really should get out more often,” said Dianne nonchalantly, not noticing

the look of distaste on Janine’s face at the uncalled for jibing of her best

friend and colleague.

Janine quickly excused herself from any further conversation and walked back to

her office. Once inside, she sat down heavily in her chair. She couldn’t keep her

mind off Mac because her mind kept recalling the long sexy nights she had shared

with him. It was the little things, which she thought she had always abhorred,

that enticed her and drove her to love him further. The gentle way he would kid

about her sexual appetite, the crude and often abusive language he used while

making love and the overall sexy way he looked at her with his large inquisitive

eyes, all made her melt like butter in her seat.

Soon the unbearable heat between her thighs became a raging fire and she began to

thirst for something to quench her uncontrollable lust. “A finger or two would

do,” she thought as she closed her eyes. She had plenty of time, until her first

lecture. Slowly, as if it moved on its own, her right hand crept down to pull up

her dress. One hand found a breast, while the other dug its way into her soaking

wet panties. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through her as her hand came in contact

with her slick, feminine perfumed sex. Through her lust filled daze, she heard a

…End of the part3. To be continued..

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part3

cover the bet with my shirt if I win. J wants to know what I’m betting. I look

at his eyes, staring right through him and say that The Chief is going out of

town next weekend and that I’ll cook dinner for him, dressed this way on next

Friday night. The Chief wants to know what he gets if he wins. I tell the Chief

that he can pick a night for dinner and I’ll cook him what he wants dressed the

same way. The Chief considers this for a moment and decides that’s fair. J wants

to know what else comes with dinner. I swear it just jumped out. I hadn’t

thought of this prior to that moment. I told J that I’d go down on him for

desert.

The Chief started laughing again. “Just how many Aces do you have in that hand?”

He chortled. J piled my shirt up on the pot and said, “That seems more than

fair.” The bastard had drawn a third card to his pair. The Chief later told me

that I blushed all the way down to my nipples. How did the Chief react? Mostly

amused. He knows that even if I do something really outlandish, I’m just looking

for attention, not upset with him. Without going into details, I’ve done things

in the past that would show him that it’s him I love and am devoted to, even if I

do things that raise the odd eyebrow. One of my, still unfulfilled, fantasies is

to have The Chief be cross when I do something really beyond the pale and that he

will take me over his knee, spank me, force me to go down on him, and then take

me, without letting me get completely undressed. So, anyway, I’m here blushing

and the Chief gets up and goes into the kitchen for something to drink. J can’t

decide whether to be horrified or terribly pleased with himself. Finally, he asks

me, “Do I just get one dessert?” Well, that did it. I told him, only one, unless

he wants to try for a double or nothing. I suggest he can stay the weekend or

have me come to his house if he wins and I’m off the hook if I win. He cuts the

cards and shoves the deck at me. I pull up a 10. He pulls out a queen. Now, I’m

a firm believer in the law of averages. I know the odds on losing a high card

cut are the same each time you do it. I also know in the long run they average

out. The Chief is still in the kitchen. I can hear the ice maker running. Want

to try again? I asked J. His eyes bug out just a touch. He glances at the

kitchen door and the Chief is still too far away to hear us. I say, I’ve agreed

to stay like this all weekend and to go down on him. What would he want to try

double or nothing again? He gets this odd look on his face and says, “I’ve always

wanted a totally obedient sexual slave. Become that for the weekend if I win and

you’re off the hook if you win.” Now, I don’t claim to be quoting exactly. It as

late. I was tired, and I was certainly distracted myself. I shuffled the cards

and held them out to him. He drew a card and grinned. He showed me a Jack of

diamonds. I felt a sudden flush go through me. I could feel myself get moist and

the feeling that was somewhere between arousal and panic came over me. I picked a

card. I looked at it and found myself looking at an eight of diamonds. J

actually licked his lips for a moment. Before the Chief came back, J stared

straight into my eyes and said, “Be exactly like this waiting for me at 5:00 on

Friday. When I knock on the door, open it like this.”

So I’m sitting here at my dining room table. My shirt and tights are in the

chair next to J along with his other winnings. My bottom is slowly taking on the

pattern of the chair I’m sitting on because there’s nothing between me and it.

This has definitely not turned out the way I’d planned. I can’t believe I lost

both double or nothings. I went from cooking and serving a meal in the buff (OK,

…End of the part3. To be continued..

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part3

the screen. He then sits in his chair behind me, and starts running his hands up

and down the sides of my body. Gradually, his hands start edging around to the

front, where my breasts stand cocked and tender. Deliberately llingering, he

slides his hands up and around the edges of the breasts, then towards but not

quite to the nipples. The palms of his hands brush oh-so-lightly across the

nipples, and I lean into the sensation, seeking a more certain touch.

“Naughty!” he declares. “I’ll have to teach you to behave.”

He takes my plait, which hangs down my back to below waist level, and wraps it

around my wrists, fastening the end inside the belt. My head is tilted upwards,

unable to move or see what he is doing. One hand seems to be at the computer,

while the other roams randomly around my front, with no set purpose or

destination in mind — or are both hands there? I can’t tell — my traitorous

body is losing its ability to tell individual touches in the surge of stimulation

being provided.

Then he removes my undies (until now still modestly covering me) and starts

running his hands up and down my inside thighs, again avoiding the centre of

sensation. I start moaning — the suspenseful sensation is taking over my senses,

and my whole being contracts to the spots being teased and touched by his

fingers. Any time I try to move my thighs towards his fingers, he stops, until I

realise what he is about and desperately try to control my trembling urging and

listing and attempt to hold still. For another few eternities he teases and

torments, then with a whispered “Good Girl”, he runs the tips of his fingers over

my clit and along the slit, briefly outlining the labia and sparking the nerves

into unsettled activity, eliciting a loud groan from my tensed throat. Then he

stops again.

I am turned around and laid back on the keyboard of the computer. My hair is

loosened slightly, so my head lies straight, but I am still unable to see

anything below my neckline. My legs are around his middle, as he sits back on his

computer chair and contemplates my position and his assignment.

“Please — touch me” I beg, my skin acutely aware that the most minimal caress

will be more erotic now than many more carnal handlings later.

He shifts in his chair, his hands engaged in cryptic activities, his breathing

controlled and yet as charged as mine.

Then something starts moving over my skin. It’s cool, small — I feel like it is

leaving a trail of sparks behind as again my synapses start firing in response to

the sensation. It glides and rolls over my breasts, pressing moderately on my

nipples and standing them upright and quivering. Slowly it tracks over my

stomach, nestling briefly in my navel before continuing its journey south. I

raise my hips to meet it, wild with a frenzied need to identify the intruder. He

laughs low, amused by my distress and need. The object slides smoothly into the

…End of the part3. To be continued..

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part3

else? What are you, an idiot? “She just left, I think. Man, you really missed

it… She was truly butterscotch.” “Butterscotch” was our term for a seriously

hot woman. “Aw, too bad. I have a customer, I have to go. But don’t forget to

make a closing announcement in a couple of minutes.” Crap, I thought, as I

glanced at a clock and realized the time. The store would be closing in twenty

minutes. “No problem,” I said, and hung up. Fortunately, I’d finished most of

the closing procedures and had little to do before making the closing calls. It

was a few minutes early, but I went ahead and made the 15-minute announcement.

Halfway through, she reappeared, walking towards me and smiling. As I hung up,

she leaned forward on the desk again. “You have a beautiful voice,” she said,

biting her finger. I leaned forward again, and my nose caught the unmistakable

scent of a woman’s sex. I tried to suppress a grin and failed. She just smiled

and sucked on her index finger. “You really like being looked at, huh? It turns

you on that much?” I asked quietly. “Yeah, it does. Especially when cute guys

are staring… The kind I like staring at myself.” The full-bore force of her

look hit me like a baseball bat. “Aw, give me a break… I’m not all –” “Shhhh.”

She brought her finger to my lips. It was all I could do not to close my eyes

and suck her finger into my mouth. It reeked of her juices, and smelled divine.

“Don’t get uptight about it, just accept it for what it is. There’s lots of cute

guys around, but you’re interesting. And cute plus interesting, to me, equals

sexy.” My erection pulsed again as she stood up and twirled on one foot, her

skirt flying up just a bit. “Do you think I’m sexy? Or just pretty?” I closed

my mouth again. “Oh, I would definitely have to say you’re sexy. Very.” She

grinned and twirled again. “Very, very.” “Well,” she said, dropping into a split

on the floor, “do you like looking at sexy girls?” I nodded vigorously. She ran

her hands up one leg. “Do you just like to look? Or do you like other things,

too?” Her fingertips reached the hem of her skirt again, and teasingly brushed

it upwards. “I like all kinds of things,” I stammered. “But I like everything

about you.” Over the intercom I heard Jeff do the ten minute announcement in an

annoyed voice. “We’re closing in just a few minutes,” I said. “All good things

come to an end.” “Do they?” she said absentmindedly, as she brushed the skirt up

another bit. “Do they have to?” She looked up at me. “Nope, no way, uh-uh,” I

blurted. She laughed. “You don’t have girls flirt with you very often, do you?

Do you like it?” “I like it a lot. But I’ve never had anyone flirt with me like

you. You’re incredible.” She smiled and pulled the skirt up a bit more, bringing

her leg around. Now her panties were fully visible; I could make out her lips

through the thin material — was that moisture I saw there? For several seconds,

maybe minutes, my eyes traced the contours of those beautiful panties. But then

she stood up and leaned over to me again. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, any old

fart can look down my dress and get a thrill,” she said, touching the front of my

shirt. “But some guys I let see a little more. Some guys I let actually do

something. Maybe they can touch me…” She ran a finger over the back of my

hand; her touch was electric. “Maybe I can touch them… But that’s maybe,” she

said harshly, and she pinched my hand, hard. I grimaced…but nodded. “Maybe,

if you’re a good boy… But we’ll have to see.” She looked around. “Who checks

the bathrooms?” I startled, then replied, “Anybody who volunteers… I’ll do it.”

She grinned. “Okay… I’ll be the one you have to drag out, then. I’ll see you

in a few minutes.” She leaned forward and kissed me, easing her tongue into my

mouth with a luscious swirl I lost myself in, and then she was gone, strutting

towards the restrooms. I quickly made a five minute announcement, then walked

around the back of the store looking for stragglers. I found two, encouraged

them to find what they were looking for and buy it, and gradually made the

rounds, arriving at the other information desk. Jeff was hunched over a magazine.

“Are we clear yet?” “Almost. There’s two over in art; I think they’re hunting

for naked pictures.” “That’s always fun. I’ll go check the –” “No, I’ll do it,

I’m on my way,” I interrupted, moving to the restroom. I checked the men’s room

first and found it empty, then knocked on the women’s room door. “Anyone in

there? It’s time to go,” I said. I heard a slight giggle, and my curiosity (and

my cock) told me to go in, so I did. Opening the first two doors, I found them

empty, but in the third stall she sat on the toilet, one leg on the handicapped

bar and one on the floor. Her fingers were moving in and out of her bare pussy;

I could hear them slurping slightly as she did it, staring right into my eyes and

smiling. I stood there and stared as she masturbated, bringing her other hand to

rub her clitoris. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “Time to go?” she

finally asked. “Yep.” I didn’t move. She dropped her leg to the floor, and

grabbed her panties. With her legs wide open and still looking me in the eye,

she wiped her panties over her sex, even pushing part of it into her before

standing, walking to me and placing them in my hand. “I’ll be back to see you

soon,” she said. She pushed her body into mine; I felt her breasts rub

delightfully against me, and smelled her heavenly aroma. She looked fetchingly

up at me again. “But not tonight. I have things to do tonight, okay?” “Alright,

but come back soon, okay? I’ll be good, I promise.” “Of course you will, if you

ever want any of this,” she said, moving my hand to her crotch. It was hot and

wet, and I instantly moved a finger inside of her. She shuddered, but pushed me

away. “I’ll see you,” she said, and pushed past me and out the door. I almost

ran after her, but realized I had her panties in my hand. I quickly shoved them

in my pocket and ran after her, but she was out the front door. Jeff approached

behind me. “Damn, was that the chick you were talking about? Man, she was

fine.” “Yeah,” I nodded stupidly. “Yeah.”

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part3

It was a surprise.”

“I can imagine,” I said, astounded by the living sense I felt as I studied the

woman’s graceful lines. Pandolf, I knew, was one of the darlings of modern art,

and for once, I could bear witness to genius. This was a brilliant example of

incredible skill. “It must be worth a fortune,” I said tactlessly, thinking

aloud.

“I suppose,” Steven said. “It’s priceless to me.”

“Of course,” I said. “Have you ever shown it, loaned it to a gallery?” I tried

to show off some of the knowledge of standard art practices I had learned in our

work. Steven frowned and then laughed.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t shown anyone this painting in ten years.”

“Why?” I asked.

“When Anna gave me this painting, I was no patron of the arts. I knew a little,

could talk at parties about symmetry and impression, but when I first saw this

piece of work, I saw it as a husband.” Steven stopped to stare again at the

painting of his disrobed wife.

“I thought it was beautiful,” he said, “just as I thought Anna was beautiful, but

I also thought it was too beautiful. Do you know much about Pandolf?”

“No,” I replied.

“When this painting was done, his reputation wasn’t as much for being a painter

as it was for being a scoundrel. Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but I was

spending a fair amount of time at the courthouse and I knew about his scandals;

public drunkeness, vandalism, even petty assaults on stuffy art patrons. I had a

low opinion of the man as a decent citizen. What did I know about art?”

Steven left me standing in front of the painting while he went to a small

assortment of crystal bottles and poured himself a short drink. He downed the

brown liquid in a single motion.

“Anna was beside herself with delight when she gave me this painting and I smiled

and fawned and thanked her for her generous kindness, but the whole time I was

thinking about my Anna posed naked while this creature,” Steven paused. “Painted

her.” He took a deep breath. “It seemed an outrage, and yet I couldn’t accuse

Anna of doing anything wrong when all she had meant to do was provide me with a

monument to the beauty I worshipped. I loved her dearly. She shone.”

“And I couldn’t fault Pandolf’s work,” Steven said. “All art aside, it is a

magnificent piece. It truly captures the essence of Anna’s beauty and I felt

grateful in that regard. He accomplished a feat I could never in a thousand

lifetimes have managed. Pandolf drew out the very essence of my love for Anna

and immortalized the feeling on canvas. But then, the demons rose up within me.”

…End of the part3. To be continued..

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