The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Internship

Part 5 of 10

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright © 2019

Archived on the Erotic Mind Control web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

By the next week Nichole had lost count of how many time she’d cum in front of her boss. Sometimes by her own hands. Sometimes it was Ms. Henderson’s hands, stroking her, teasing her, playing her as Nichole lay back in bliss against the older woman. So many times. She knew it was more than the times she’d cum in her own bed. And that was at least once a night. She’d lie there alone. But not in the dark.

The blue candle always burned beside her bed.

Like three other blue candles burned in the house.

Nichole’s hands would play across her naked body, the sensations pouring through her. Hot, demanding, liquid. Anyone else would have cried out in ecstasy.

Nichole never made a sound.

When she was done her eyes would fall on her candle. She’d pick it up, the light playing over her body. She’d stare at the flame for hours, cradling it at as she sat on her bed. She didn’t know how long she sat like that. Never remembered it. Never remembered the new truths the candle whispered to her.

Never knew that her sisters and her mother were staring at their own candles after finding their own glorious orgasms.

They weren’t told to be quiet. But they never heard each other.

Nichole was quiet.

Just like she was every time she came in front of Ms. Henderson.

* * *

“Finally!” Alice cried, glaring at Nichole as her eldest sister entered the kitchen. “I thought you were never coming down.”

Nichole didn’t think that was fair. She wasn’t running late. She didn’t lie in bed after her alarm went off. Like Ruth often did. Although the middle sister had made it to the kitchen before her today. Of course Nichole wouldn’t lie in bed. She had to get to work. She didn’t want to be late. She didn’t need to lie in bed, every morning she woke up refreshed. Even if she did spend hours…

A memory of staring at a flickering blue flame shrivelled and vanished, replaced by an image of blue eyes.

“Well, I’m here now,” Nichole declared, pouring herself a cup of fresh orange juice and sitting down at the table. She reached for a piece of toast. Their mother always had breakfast ready for them. “What does it matter?”

Alice looked at Nichole for a moment, a worried frown playing over her features, a pout forming on the younger sister’s pink, glossy, lips. Nichole had always wondered why Alice insisted on putting on lipstick before breakfast. But the youngest sister had done it ever since their mother had let Alice start using makeup, years before.

That’s not right. For a moment there was an image in Nichole’s mind. A memory. Of Alice first starting wearing makeup to school just a week before.

She’s been wearing it for years, silly. The memory flashed and died. Gone.

Maybe it was because Alice was the youngest that she felt the need to start using makeup so young, years ago.

Nichole was sure that was right. She remembered it.

Alice’s lips were particularly noticeable this morning. They appeared moist, almost shining. Nichole wondered just how many layers of gloss the eighteen year-old had needed to achieve that effect.

Nichole watched as her sister took a deep breath.

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” Alice announced, nervously looking from one of her family members to the next.

Well, of course you do, you have lots of friends. Wait, what?

What her sister had said didn’t make any sense to Nichole. Alice had boyfriends. Didn’t she? A string of them. She’d never shown any interest in girls. Not like that. But there was no mistaking what the youngest sister meant. Not with the dreamy, far-away, look in her eyes.

“Oh that’s wonderful, dear,” their mother cried, running around the table to give her youngest daughter a hug. “Who is she? Is it anyone we know? Oh, you have to bring her home with you after school. Will she want to stay for dinner? I’ll have to make something special. Hmm, I might need to do some shopping.” Their mother’s brow creased as she glanced in the direction of the family’s large white fridge.

Elaine’s reaction didn’t surprise the eldest of the sisters. Even if her fussing did seem a little over the top. Their mother always tried to be supportive of her daughters.

“Mum!” Alice cried, struggling to escape her mother’s embrace. “Um. Her name’s Sandra. She’s in my class at school.”

It was Nichole’s turn to frown. She was sure she’d heard Alice talking about Sandra. But as a rival for the affections of some boy or other.

Maybe she’d misheard.

“So is she really your girlfriend?” Ruth teased, smirking. “Or do you just want her to be?”

“Of course she is,” Alice shot back indignantly. “We, we kissed and, and…” Alice’s cheeks flushed bright red.

“Oh, I remember her from your class photos,” Ruth continued gleefully. “Isn’t she the blonde one with green eyes? And tall. She’s gorgeous. You done any more than kiss her yet?”

“Ruth!” their mother scolded. “Don’t be like that. This is important to your sister.” After giving her middle child a meaningful look she turned back to Alice. “Really, please ask her to come over. We’d all love to meet her. And that includes Ruth.”

“Uh, sure mum,” Alice replied uncertainly. “I’ll have to ask her though.”

“Anyway, it’s not like it’s any big surprise,” Ruth muttered. “That just leaves Nichole now.”

“Really Ruth,” their mother tutted. “Just because you and I are gay doesn’t mean anything about your sisters. Now if you can’t be supportive you can just be quiet. Or you can say something nice to your sister. Was anyone like this when you came out?”

Ruth had the decency to look suitably abashed. “Sorry sis,” she offered apologetically. “Welcome to the club.” Ruth leant over the table to hug her sister, Alice embracing her in return.

Nichole hadn’t been able to say a word during the whole exchange. Her head was spinning. Alice declaring herself gay was one thing. But Ruth and her mother? They weren’t gay as well, were they? From what her mother had said it was no secret. But Nichole couldn’t remember any of that. She should remember one of her sisters announcing that she was gay. And their mother had been married. To Nichole and her sisters’ father. Surely she’d know if her own mother was gay.

“You should ask Lisa over as well,” their mother mused.

Nichole had no idea who Lisa was. She wasn’t even sure who their mother was talking to.

“I’ll have to see if she’s free,” Ruth replied.

“Oh, trouble in paradise?” Alice teased. “You’ve only been together, what, a couple of weeks? She tired of you already?”

“Alice!” their mother cried.

“She works some nights,” Ruth protested.

Nichole didn’t know what was going on. She’d never heard of this ‘Lisa’. She still couldn’t understand Alice being gay. She remembered her youngest sister as boy-obsessed. Maybe that had been a cover, Alice protesting too much. But Nichole didn’t think so. She remembered the walls of her sister’s room, covered in posters of male pop idols and anime characters. How Alice talked about her boyfriends. And whenever Ruth had shown any interest in relationships it had always been boys as well. Wide-eyed Nichole stared around the breakfast table. The other people seated there looked like her family. They acted like her family, their mother fussing over her daughters before heading to work, her sisters teasing each other. But it was wrong. They weren’t gay. She needed to get away. To clear her head. Abruptly she shot out of her seat.

“Um, er, that’s great Alice, great. I, uh, forgot something upstairs.”

Nichole bolted from the room and shot up the stairs, ignoring her mother’s cries. This couldn’t be right. Without stopping she threw open the door to Alice’s room. Just as Nichole remembered the posters were there on the wall.

The posters of female singers, their beautiful faces, staring down at Nichole. Posters of female anime characters, just as scantily clad as the singers, all big eyes and long hair in a rainbow of colours.

And on the table next to Alice’s bed was a blue candle, its blue flame glowing, dancing. Drawing Nichole’s eyes. Holding her gaze.

There was an image of blue eyes in her mind.

Of course it was no surprise that Alice was gay. The youngest of the sisters had protested at times, but those posters on her walls had always told a story. All of beautiful women. Ruth had teased Alice that it was only girls she put up on her wall. Nichole could clearly remember that. And with their mother and Ruth being gay it wasn’t that big a surprise. Ruth had come out a few years ago and Elaine finally being honest about her own sexuality was what had led to their parent’s divorce. Ruth’s current girlfriend was Lisa. Ruth had announced that at dinner a couple of weeks ago. Nichole had met Lisa, a short, slim, girl, with a very pretty face and long, chestnut-brown, hair. She liked her, the girl was obviously shy but with a wicked sense of humour.

Nichole knew all that.

She didn’t know what she’d been worried about.

She didn’t remember being worried.

She needed to go back downstairs, where she found their mother still fussing over Alice.

“I’m happy for you,” Nichole declared, hugging her youngest sister. “That can’t have been easy.”

“Yeah, well,” Alice shrugged. “It’s been coming for a while, you know.”

“Like years,” Ruth interjected, then was silenced by a look from their mother.

“Anyway,” Alice continued. “It’s good to have it out there. Like a weight gone. And it’s not like I’m alone.” She indicated their mother and Ruth. “So what about you?” she added to Nichole.

Nichole felt her eyes grow wide. Alice was asking her if she was gay. She wasn’t. She remembered her fantasies of her dark lover. Her dreams of some man, tall and handsome, who’d sweep her off her feet. She wasn’t gay. That was silly.

No matter how many times she’d cum in front of her boss. Who was a woman. And tall and blonde and stunningly attractive and whose merest glance could leave Nichole quivering. No matter how many times Ms. Henderson’s hands had played Nichole’s body, teasing, holding her on the precipice before sending her tumbling over the edge, every nerve in her body crying out in bliss as Nichole made not a sound. No matter how wonderful it felt. No matter that every night, when she came, the image of blue eyes danced in front of her mind.

She wasn’t gay.

Was she?

“No, uh,” Nichole managed after a moment, shrugging weakly. “Someone’s got to be the token straight, right?”

Ruth looked at her doubtfully and their mother just smiled and said, “Of course, dear.”

* * *

Nichole was still telling herself that she wasn’t gay as she stood in front of her boss’ desk. As her fingers stroked her labia and her thumb ground into her clit. She was still telling herself that as her orgasm rocked through her, as her lips forming a perfect ‘O’, though no sound emerged from them. Was still trying to tell herself as she came down, her fingers trailing slowly up and down her sopping opening, the tremors from her crest running through her. She wasn’t gay. She was just a young woman seeing to her needs.

Nichole bit her lip, trying to think of that dark-haired dream lover.

The image wouldn’t hold. All she could think of was the sight in front of her. Ms. Henderson sitting at her desk, her boss idly tapping a pen on her cheek as she regarded her computer screen.

Even that idle gesture was so elegant. And Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue…

Nichole couldn’t hold the image of that dark lover, blue eyes and long blonde hair filling her mind.

Ms. Henderson was speaking, the words whispered but just loud enough to reach the young intern. Even so Nichole didn’t know what they were, still swimming in the afterglow of her orgasm. It didn’t matter. She’d learn what her boss needed her to learn.

“Well, done,” her boss smiled, looking up from her screen. “You are a good girl.”

A shiver of delight swept through the young intern at the executive’s words, mixing with the last tremors of her orgasm. She didn’t say anything. There was no need to.

“And I do like your outfit,” Nichole’s boss commented. Despite Ms. Henderson’s words Nichole could sense some hesitation there. “But I think I’d like something different for the today. You just wait there.”

Without another word Ms. Henderson rose from her chair and headed to the door of her office. Nichole was tempted to turn around. See what her boss was doing. She could watch Ms. Henderson all day. But she hadn’t been told to do that. So Nichole just stood there, arms at her side. And waited.

She didn’t have to wait long, Ms. Henderson soon reappearing in her view holding a plastic suit bag. Nichole thought she recognised it from when she’d closed the door to the office, the bag hanging on a hook near the door. But she hadn’t paid much attention. She’d assumed it held some of Ms. Henderson’s clothes.

And she’d hardly been able to think of anything, her need pouring through her.

It wasn’t much better now.

Ms. Henderson bent over to lay the clothes bag on her desk, her rear beautifully outlined in her short skirt.

Nichole’s arousal began to build, despite the glorious orgasm she’d just had. Delicious heat was spilling out from her centre.

I’m not gay. Nichole wasn’t even sure why she was protesting.

“Yes, I think this will do nicely,” Ms Henderson commented happily.

The tall blonde spun around, holding up the contents of the bag. It consisted of a medium-grey skirt suit, the skirt pleated and so very short. There was a white silk blouse, shimmering and pure.

“What do you think?” Ms. Henderson asked.

Nichole wasn’t sure what to think. The outfit almost looked like one of Alice’s uniforms. There was no crest on the jacket. But apart from that it could be a school blazer. And with the pleated skirt and white blouse…

It was obviously for her though. She didn’t want to think about that. She wasn’t sure why Ms. Henderson insisted on buying her all these clothes.

“I,” Nichole began, only to be silenced by an elegant finger on her lips.

“But first we’ll need to get you out of these things. Oh, they’re nice. I can’t fault Clara’s taste. And I do want to see you in them again. But I saw this outfit yesterday and I couldn’t help thinking of you.”

She was thinking of me!

At the thought a shot of warmth surged through the young woman, mingling with the heat spreading form her centre. But Nichole wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. She indicated the door. “Um, should, uh. Go change?”

“Why bother dear?” her boss asked. “Here’s as good as anywhere.”

Nichole’s eyes widened. Did Ms. Henderson mean she was supposed to change in her office? That couldn’t be right, could it? Nichole wasn’t sure why it worried her. After all the times her boss had touched her. Everywhere. Why would taking her clothes off in front of Ms. Henderson matter? Clara had seen her in her underwear.

“Here?” the young intern asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” her boss confirmed. “Why waste the time going somewhere and then coming back?”

Nichole supposed that made sense. She started to shrug out of her jacket.

“Stop,” her boss commanded, a thin smile on her beautiful lips. “Let me. You just stand there.”

Nichole froze on the spot. She didn’t know what her Ms. Henderson meant. She couldn’t mean…

Even before Nichole had finished that thought Ms. Henderson was slipping the jacket from the unresisting young woman.

“Now, arms out,” Ms. Henderson instructed as she one undid the top button on Nichole’s rose pink blouse. “Yes, like that, a nice T-shape. Good girl.”

A frisson of pleasure shot through the young woman as Ms. Henderson undid her next button.

Nichole didn’t know what to think. Surely her boss undressing her wasn’t right. But she knew she could trust Ms. Henderson. The executive was being so kind, giving up her time to instruct Nichole. She knew that whatever Ms. Henderson wanted to teach her was something Nichole should learn.

Another button was undone.

Arousal was crawling through the young woman. She was sure that her nipples must be tenting her bra. A bra that was now in Ms. Henderson’s plain sight. Did Ms. Henderson like what she saw? Nichole hoped that she did. She didn’t want to think about why that mattered to her so much.

Or how wet she was.

Another button was undone, Nichole quivering in need.

Ms. Henderson pulled the sides of Nichole’s blouse apart. Slowly her hands ran down the intern’s sides, Nichole’s skin sparking from the contact.

“Very nice. Just standing there. Letting me do this. It’s what you want, isn’t it Nichole? You don’t have to speak. You don’t have to nod. Just stand there. But we both know it’s true.”

It was true. It was so true. Nichole wanted her boss to undress her. Wanted Ms. Henderson’s hands on her. She wanted to stand there, her eyes straight ahead. Nichole could see Ms. Henderson’s sky blue blouse. And the curve of her boss’ breasts. For a moment she wondered what Ms. Henderson’s bra looked like. What her breasts would look like. The image swirled in her mind. She couldn’t think, need pouring through her. Nichole could barely recognise the sound as Ms. Henderson slowly pulled down the zipper on her skirt.

“Just step out of it.” Ms. Henderson’s hand was on her arm, helping her keep her balance. Under her boss’ guidance Nichole lifted first one foot, then another. Then again, to let her step into the new skirt. She could feel it being pulled up her legs. Nichole swallowed as she felt the pressure of Ms. Henderson’s fingers through the fabric. Her boss’ hands were on her legs.

A pulse of pleasure shot from Nichole’s centre.

It felt so good, Ms. Henderson dressing her, as the skirt was shifted into place. It felt right. The zipper wasn’t done up, not yet. But it was tight enough to stay there as Ms. Henderson replaced Nichole’s rose pink blouse with the white one. Did up the buttons.

Nichole shivered at that, deliciously. Ms. Henderson’s hands were so close to her breasts. She imagined those hands on her breasts, caressing, exploring.

She could hardly breathe.

The ends of the blouse were slipped into her skirt. Was that faint sensation the hem of her blouse? Or were Ms. Henderson’s hands brushing the top of her panties?

Nichole hoped it was her boss’ hands.

“There we are,” Ms. Henderson commented, stepping back. “Very nice, if I do say so myself. What do you think?”

Nichole wasn’t sure. She was trying to imagine how she looked.

Perhaps her boss sensed her confusion, leading the intern by the arm to stand in front of the large window the office boasted.

Nichole could just make out her reflection. The jacket (or was it a blazer?) was perfectly tailored, narrowing in at the waist before flaring over the top of her hips. The skirt was so short, so much of her thighs exposed. She wouldn’t be able to dare bend at all. It might even be shorter than the skirts her youngest sister wore to school. And it looked so much like one of them, the pleats immaculately pressed.

Nichole looked at the image of her face, her own blue eyes staring back. They looked so empty. Did her eyes really look like that?

“Uh, it’s er, nice?” the intern managed. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I think it’s better than that,” Ms. Henderson tutted. “But modesty can be becoming. There is one problem though.”

A pit opened in Nichole’s stomach. She couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her boss.

“The clothes are splendid and you wear them rather well. But everything comes from the foundations, doesn’t it? And I think yours could be better.”

Nichole frowned. She wasn’t sure what her boss meant. Foundations? Oh. Perhaps Ms. Henderson meant her underwear. Nichole admitted that hers wasn’t anything special. Nothing to be ashamed of, or so she thought. A white t-shirt bra. But that was supposed to be the best for a working day, wasn’t it? Nichole admitted her wasn’t that expensive but it wasn’t cheap either. But it didn’t have any decoration. Plain, simple. Her panties weren’t any better. Just white cotton. Nichole had thought that should be enough for a day in the office. But now they made her cringe in embarrassment.

Ms. Henderson was leaning over her desk, an elegant finger on a button on her office phone. “Clara,” the executive declared crisply. “I need you in here now.”

Nichole swallowed nervously as the PA entered the room. If Ms. Henderson didn’t think her underwear was good enough and Clara was being summoned then Nichole knew what that meant. She wasn’t looking forward to another shopping expedition. Especially if it involved underwear.

Nichole’s heart sank as Ms. Henderson addressed her PA. “I need you take Nichole out shopping again. Underwear this time. A good range. You know what I mean. And if there’s anything else that needs taking care of, then see to that as well.”

Clara rolled her eyes and huffed.

Ms. Henderson didn’t seem impressed, rewarding Clara with a cold stare. “I want this done properly,” the executive insisted.

Nichole didn’t want it done at all. If her boss thought she needed some new underwear then Nichole could take care of that herself. She was at university after all. Even if she had only finished one year. It wasn’t like she was still in school. No matter how much her current outfit reminded her of a uniform.

“I, uh, could go after work,” the intern ventured nervously.

“Nonsense,” Ms. Henderson declared. “Just do what Clara says. Clara will be happy to go with you. Won’t you Clara?”

Nichole thought that Clara was anything but happy about the idea but all the PA said was “Yes, Ms. Henderson.” The look she shot the young intern wasn’t friendly in the least.

Nichole soon found herself being dragged along behind the brunette again. “I have got better things to do then fix your wardrobe, you know,” the PA declared sullenly.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Nichole protested.

Clara didn’t respond, but did increase the speed of her steps, Nichole forced to keep up by the grip the woman had on her arm. Not for the first time she wondered why Ms. Henderson put up with her PA’s antics.

When they arrived at their destination, an up-market lingerie boutique, Clara almost threw Nichole inside one of the fitting rooms, stepping inside after the young intern and closing the door after them.

“Well, let’s see what we have to work with,” Clara huffed.

“What?” Nichole knew she should do more than utter some weak protest. She should tell the woman what she thought of her. Demand she get out of the fitting room. She could choose her own underwear. But the words wouldn’t form on her lips. The thought died, replaced by an image of blue eyes.

She was stripping out of the clothes Ms. Henderson had dressed her in almost before she knew what she was doing.

Task complete Nichole simply stood there in the small space, wondering what to do. Her arms hung uselessly at her side, her hands twitching. She wanted to cover herself. Maybe even turn aside. But she just couldn’t.

Clara’s hands were grasping her breasts, the PA’s fingers sinking into Nichole’s flesh through the fabric of her bra. Nichole didn’t want to think about the flash of pleasure that shot through her.

“Not bad,” the PA allowed grudgingly. “I mean I can see what she. Well. Do you think you’ll get any bigger? I doubt it actually. We’ll need to get you measured.”

Nichole frowned. “But? What? I know what size I am.”

“You’ve probably got it wrong,” the PA scoffed. “Have you ever even been in place like this?” The PA didn’t give Nichole a chance to respond. “No, you haven’t have you? You don’t have any idea, do you? Just stand there and I’ll get someone.”

Nichole was left alone in the fitting room. She glanced at her clothes. At least she assumed they were hers now. Ms. Henderson had given them to her. She could put them on. Leave. Clara wasn’t here. Wouldn’t be able to stop her. It would be so easy.

But she couldn’t.

Ms. Henderson wouldn’t want that.

For a moment all Nichole could see was a pair of blue eyes.

Of course she should stay right where was. That’s what Clara had told her do. Just stand there, in the small room. Arms by her side. Waiting. Not moving. It was like she was in a box. Waiting for someone to open it. Take her out and play with her.

She didn’t have to do anything until then.

Nichole’s eyes didn’t move, fixed on a spot on the door on the level of her eyes.

“Yes, it’s for my sister,” she heard Clara say, who knew how long later. “She has a new boyfriend and, well. So she decided she needed a complete new wardrobe. But she’s never had that much in the way lingerie before so she asked for my help.”

The door was flung open again, Clara standing there with one of the boutique’s employees.

Nichole didn’t move an inch.

She still hadn’t been told to.

“You want a full range, don’t you sis?” Clara grinned wickedly. “That’s what you said, isn’t it? You want things that’ll really turn him on. Plus other stuff as well.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Nichole heard herself say. There was a happy smile on her lips. She was losing herself in those blue eyes.

The shop assistant looked doubtfully between Clara and Nichole and then shrugged. “Well, I’ll need to measure you first.”

Nichole simply stood there as the tape measure was placed around her chest.

“34B,” the woman announced. “Is that what you’re wearing now?”

The woman’s words barely penetrated the fog around Nichole’s mind

“Answer her, Nichole,” Clara huffed.

“Yes,” the intern replied. She barely registered the scowl on the PA’s face. Part of Nichole wanted to be happy that she’d proved Clara wrong. She did know her own size. But that was so unimportant. What was important was doing what she was told.

“I’ll go get some possibilities then,” the shop assistant declared.

Nichole simply stood there as the woman hurried off.

Clara leaned over to whisper to the young intern. “When she comes back you’ll just stand there. You’ll let me decide. You’ll agree with anything I suggest you get. The sexier, the more revealing, the better. But I get to decide. Right?”

Nichole just nodded. It was what Ms. Henderson would have wanted.

She was so turned on by the idea.

Clara stepped away as the sound of the shop assistant’s footsteps could be heard approaching.

“How about these?” the woman suggested, a pair of lacy black bra and knickers draping seductively from a hanger. There was a garter belt as well.

Clara took the garments and held them up against Nichole’s body. “Not a bad start. But have you got something racier? What was that set in the window? It looked like it was more straps than anything else.”

“Oh, that’s a popular line,” the woman replied before she left again.

“And bring a few more options,” Clara called after the woman. “Remember she wants a new wardrobe. Don’t you, you little slut?” That last sentence was hissed in Nichole’s ear.

Nichole tried to frown. She shouldn’t let Clara talk to her like that. It wasn’t fair. Or maybe it was, with what she did in Ms. Henderson’s office. She wasn’t being a slut. She was just seeing to her needs. Wasn’t she? But it didn’t matter, a wave of calm washing over the young blonde. Everything was what Ms. Henderson wanted.

That was all that mattered.

Nichole simply nodded again.

The next time the shop assistant returned she was laden down with so many items Nichole couldn’t take them in, white and black and red and pink. Deep purple and dark chocolate brown. Frills and silk and laces. Bustiers and corsets. Bodysuits split to the navel and panties cut so high Nichole thought they were little more than string and scraps of silk. Some of them looked almost non-existent, the young woman wondering how they would cover any of her at all.

But it was what Ms. Henderson wanted.

One piece at a time Clara and the shop assistant held the lingerie up in front of Nichole’s body. Pressed them to her, thrills going through the intern’s body at the touch of the slinky garments. But Nichole didn’t show any reaction. She simply stood there. Sometimes Clara would say no and the shop assistant would glance at Nichole. Then the intern would smile and nod and sometimes say a word or two. Always agreeing with what the PA said. Because that was what Ms. Henderson had said to do. She was doing what her boss had told her to do. It felt so good.

Nichole could feel her nipples tightening.

“Yes, we’ll take all that,” Clara declared eventually, waving dismissively at a large pile of lingerie. “But she needs some other things as well. Let me go get some.”

“Ah,” was all the shop assistant managed before the PA was out of the changing room. The woman turned to Nichole, a frown on her face. “Are you alright, dear? You seem a little out of it.”

Nichole blinked. With Clara not in the room it felt like a fog was lifting from her mind. What was she doing here? She knew that she could say something. Say that she didn’t want the lingerie. That Clara wasn’t her sister. That she didn’t want those things. Some of them were nice but most were just too much. The words were almost on her lips.

There was an image of blue eyes in her mind.

“No, I’m fine,” Nichole smiled. “It’s just, a little, um, embarrassing. I’ve never bought things like this before. So, uh.”

It was what Ms. Henderson would want her to say.

“And you’re happy with everything we’ve picked out? I mean some of it, is well. Even for this place it’s a bit much.”

“Oh yes,” Nichole confirmed. “My boyfriend will love it. I will too.”

She could imagine wearing the things that had been held against her. Feeling them against her skin. But it wouldn’t be for a boyfriend. It would be for Ms. Henderson. Arousal was slipping through the young woman at the thought. Maybe Ms. Henderson would dress her again. Would she like Nichole in the red and black bustier? Or maybe the pink bra that was hardly there at all? Or the black set that was just straps and scraps of cloth.

She was sure her boss would like all of them.

“We’ll need these as well,” Clara declared.

Nichole almost felt relieved. The PA had returned with much more normal underwear. Not quite what she was wearing. All of it had at least some decoration. Lace and trimming. But some of it almost looked professional. In white and blue and silver grey. Just right for an office. Better than what she had. But there was more, all flowers and pastel patterns, that looked straight out of a teenager’s wardrobe.

“You’re quite sure?” the shop assistant asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Clara insisted.

Nichole just smiled and nodded.

“Just give as a minute and we’ll finish up,” the PA added. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring it all over to the counter.

“I can help,” the assistant offered, obviously considered the pair might change their mind and she’d lose her commission.

“Don’t worry, we’re still taking it all,” Clara scoffed, “Service, right? Do what the customer asks. Now get out and leave us alone.”

Nichole cringed, she could never have been that rude.

“God, I thought she’d never leave,” Clara huffed after the door closed behind the woman. Then she waved at Nichole. “Now get that junk off.”

Nichole blinked. She couldn’t say a single word this time. Clara couldn’t mean her underwear as well?

“Now!”

It looked like the PA did mean exactly that. Nichole couldn’t believe it. She’d never even done that with Ms. Henderson. It was wrong. She couldn’t.

“What did Ms. Henderson say?” Clara’s voice was icy.

She had to do what Clara said.

Trembling Nichole reached around behind herself to undo her bra clasp. She didn’t want to be naked in front of this woman. It was wrong. But she had to do what Ms. Henderson wanted. She’d told Nichole to do what Clara said. But that didn’t mean anything the PA said, did it? If Clara told her to jump off a building, Nichole wouldn’t do that. But she couldn’t stop herself taking off her underwear.

Reluctantly Nichole lowered her bra away from her chest. She wanted to cover herself. She knew her nipples were erect. She could feel them. Her arousal would be so obvious to the PA. She wanted to stop herself. But she knew that she couldn’t do that. Slowly she lowered her panties down her legs. She wanted to do it quickly, but she just couldn’t.

Even if she knew how much her unhurried motion made her disrobing look like a tease.

The dampness of her arousal just made it worse.

Clara’s eyes trailed hungrily down Nichole’s body, then stopped, a look of distaste marring her features. The intern could tell that the PA’s gaze was fixed on her centre. “God, just what I thought. You haven’t got the slightest clue have you? Do you even know what high-cut is?”

Nichole flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t even thought about that. Even when she’d realised how skimpy some of the panties were. How she wouldn’t be able to wear them unless she, she. It wasn’t that she didn’t pay any attention to, …, down there. But all she did was make sure she could safely wear her swimwear. She knew that a lot of the lingerie that Clara had selected was far skimpier than that.

She can’t mean?

Nichole jumped as Clara’s fingers ran over her crotch, through her pubic hair, tugging at it painfully. “Just how much do you think you’ll have to lose?” the woman hissed, her lips inches from Nichole’s ear.

The PA’s fingers drew a line over the intern’s sensitive flesh. “Maybe here?”

Nichole just stared at Clara, the brunette’s mouth formed into an evil grin, the young intern trembling at the sight.

“Or maybe here,” the PA’s voice thick with suggestion.

Clara’s fingers had edged inward. They were almost brushing Nichole’s labia. The PA couldn’t mean that Nichole should remove that much, could she? Nichole didn’t want to think about it.

Or how much Clara’s touch was turning her on.

Nichole didn’t want to lose any of her hair. She already had a bikini line, and that was enough. She could remember having none when she was younger. She knew what some women did. But she didn’t want to do that. How she was now meant she was grown up, mature.

“That’ll be our next stop,” Clara informed her. “I’d have liked to see you in one of those thongs. But you’re too clueless, aren’t you? This’ll have to do for now.”

Nichole sighed in relief as Clara shoved a sky blue set of underwear into her hands. The bra and knickers were edged in lace, a cute little bow in the front of each. But they were no more revealing than her own set.

She didn’t want to think about later.

Waxing is alright, the intern tried to tell herself as she was dragged along by the PA, her arms laden down by the bags holding the results of their shopping expedition. Everyone waxes. Well lots of women. So it’s okay.

Nichole was still telling herself that as the pair came to a halt.

“In here,” Clara commanded, shoving Nichole through the door. “Just the right place for a slut like you.”

Nichole didn’t think that was fair. It was a beauty shop. It offered all sorts of services. Waxing and nails and eyebrows. It looked upmarket, expensive. Clean surfaces, bright lights and posters of beautiful women. With beautiful figures and long, clean, legs and Nichole didn’t want to think why her eyes had drifted to them.

She could almost imagine Ms. Henderson here, having, having.

The images piled through her mind.

Clara was speaking.

“Yes, a full laser treatment. No! Not for me. For her!”

What? Nichole struggled to understand what Clara meant. But the fog in her head wouldn’t let her. All she knew was that she had to do what the PA said.

Clara grabbed Nichole by the arm as the assistant beckoned her to follow. “Do what they say,” the PA hissed. “Everything. You’ll enjoy it. Just like the little slut you are.”

Nichole wasn’t sure what Clara meant. She did think that the PA shouldn’t talk to her like that. But she wasn’t sure why.

She was still trying to work it out as the technician, a pretty girl with hazel eyes, told her to disrobe and lie down.

Nichole did just what she was told.

It was what Ms. Henderson wanted her to do.

“Could you spread your legs a bit more please?” the girl.

Of course Nichole could do that.

A pair of blue eyes floated in front of Nichole. Nothing else mattered. The eyes were so blue. Like the ocean. She could drown in them. Go under and never come up. It wouldn’t matter.

The girl was doing something, down there. Nichole didn’t know what. It felt good. Maybe it shouldn’t feel good. Lying there, so exposed, in front of a stranger. There was a hint of pain, a small pricking sensation, again and again and again. But Nichole hardly noticed. She floated there. She knew that her eyes were staring at the ceiling of the room. But she couldn’t see it. All she could see was blue eyes.

She was so turned on. Was she damp? She might be. Arousal quivered through her. Something pushing it higher and higher. More small prickles. Her nipples were so tight. Nichole could barely breathe. There was something happening at her centre. Was it pleasure? Pain? She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The blue eyes told her it was what Ms. Henderson wanted.

Not knowing just pushed her arousal higher.

She was almost cumming.

“All done,” the technician said.

Nichole blinked. What was done? Where was she? Anxiously the young women looked around the room. It was white, sterile, like a doctor’s surgery. Gleaming benchtops and instruments Nichole didn’t understand.

“You’ll probably need follow-up treatments,” the technician was saying.

Follow-up? Nichole couldn’t understand what the other woman meant. Her arousal was still hammering away at her.

“Although maybe not too many,” the woman continued. “With some people it just wants to go, you know?”

Nichole frowned. She didn’t know. She realised her legs were spread. She was half-naked, exposed.

Nichole’s jaw dropped as her eyes fell to her centre. She was bare. Denuded. Not a hair in sight. She sucked in a sharp breath. How had she let this happen?

The blue eyes were in front of her vision again.

But of course she’d wanted it. She needed to be able to wear the lingerie Ms. Henderson had paid for. It only made sense. And better to be safe than sorry. Some of it was so skimpy that getting rid of all her hair was the definitely best idea. And anyway she liked it better this way. Didn’t she?

Of course she did.

Because it was what Ms. Henderson wanted.

Nichole didn’t say a word as Clara paid for her treatment. The young intern was trembling, the arousal still coursing through her at what Ms. Henderson was going to think. It had felt so good pulling on her panties, the silky fabric a breath against her denuded skin. How much better would it be to have Ms. Henderson’s eyes on her.

Those blue eyes.

“You’re turned on, aren’t you, you little slut?” Clara hissed on her ears.

Nichole didn’t like Clara talking to her like that. But she couldn’t deny the truth of the PA’s words. So she just nodded.

Her arousal didn’t dissipate the whole way back to Ms. Henderson’s office.

“So how did we get on?” the agency’s owner asked.

“Alright,” Clara grumbled.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you think so,” Ms. Henderson responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What about you Nichole? Do you like your new things?”

“Oh yes, Ms Henderson,” the young intern gushed. “They’re wonderful. Thank you so much.”

Nichole didn’t know where the words had come from. But she knew they were what Ms. Henderson had wanted to here.

“So let’s have a look. Show me what you bought.”

One after another Nichole pulled the items from the bags. Ms. Henderson smiled. Sometimes she’d take one. Hold it up against Nichole’s body. And just sometimes her hands would brush Nichole, the young woman trembling from the touch, her arousal pushing just that little bit higher.

“Oh, I like this one,” the executive exclaimed, a barely there set of black underwear held against the young woman. “I can see just what that would go with. And the purple set as well. They’re all good, really. You’ve done well Clara.”

Nichole thought the PA should say something, but the dark-haired woman just grunted.

“But what do you have on now?” Ms. Henderson asked, her attention turning back to Nichole.

“Um, they’re uh, blue,” the intern managed.

“I’m sure they are dear,” Ms. Henderson smiled, those blue eyes regarding Nichole. There was a light dancing in those eyes. Like the flame of a candle, flickering. Nichole couldn’t even think of looking anywhere else. Didn’t need to. It was almost as good as having Ms. Henderson’s hands on her. Better, maybe. She didn’t need to do anything. Didn’t need to think. Just stand there. And do what she was told. “But really, you should show me. Pull your skirt up.”

Of course that’s what Nichole should do. Her hand reached for the hem of her grey, pleated, skirt. Pulled it up to her waist. She held it there. She hadn’t been told to let go.

“Did you need to get anything else done on her?” Ms. Henderson asked.

Nichole didn’t reply. She knew the question wasn’t directed at her. So she just stood there, one hand holding her skirt bunched around her waist.

“Of course I did,” Clara huffed. “The little slut hasn’t got the first idea.”

“Clara!” Ms. Henderson exclaimed. “You will not speak about a colleague like that in front of me.” The executive had turned to glare at her PA. A wave of sadness rushed over Nichole, the sight of those eyes denied her. But they still swum in her mind. And Ms. Henderson’s long blonde hair was in front of her. It looked so gorgeous. She wondered what it would feel like, her arousal peaking again at thought of that hair against her skin.

Ms. Henderson gave herself a shake, as if reeling her temper back in. The movement sent a ripple through her hair, Nichole gasping at the sight. “Now dear, why don’t you pull those panties aside and show me?”

Nichole frowned, just for a moment. Pulling her skirt up and showing Ms. Henderson her panties wasn’t so bad. Nichole was sure that was right. After all, the woman had paid for them. But pulling them aside? That was too much. Even if Ms. Henderson had touched her down there. So many times.

But she had to show Ms. Henderson her pussy. That was the word. She had to do what Ms. Henderson said. Ms. Henderson was so kind. Teaching her so much. Paying for new clothes. Helping see to her needs. It was only right that Nichole do everything Ms. Henderson said.

Nichole knew that she’d heard that somewhere. Something blue and flickering had told her that. The memory drifted away. But she knew that she had to do what her boss said.

With her free hand Nichole tugged her blue panties aside. It didn’t matter that Clara was there. The PA had already seen her naked. And anyway it was what she wanted to do. Because it was what Ms. Henderson wanted.

That was all that mattered.

Ms. Henderson smiled, the expression sending a pulse of arousal through the young intern. “Oh very nice. So very pretty. But I’m sure it’s made you all hot and bothered, hasn’t it Nichole? All turned on. Thinking about how you look now. It’s how you want to look. You’ve never wanted it any other way. But you’ve never had the courage until today. Isn’t that right? Don’t speak, just nod.”

Nichole nodded. Why wouldn’t she? What Ms. Henderson was saying was right. She’d never wanted any hair on her pussy. She hated it. Always had. But she’d never dared do anything about it. Not until today. It felt so good.

Bare, just as it should be.

“You’ll always keep it like that,” Ms. Henderson.

Nichole nodded again. She wondered why her boss had said that. Of course Nichole would keep it like that. It was what she wanted. It was what she’d always wanted.

“It must be turning you on so much,” Ms. Henderson whispered.

It was. Having no hair on her pussy was such a turn on.

“Let me help with that,” the tall blonde smiled. “But remember, not a sound.”

Nichole just barely registered Ms Henderson reach out, the older woman’s fingers playing across her denuded crotch, trails of fire left in their wake. There were stars in front of the young woman’s eyes. But they didn’t stop her seeing Ms. Henderson’s blue eyes.

Arousal was pounding through the young woman. Her breath hitched as her boss’ fingernails trailed over her labia. That was wrong. The word too clinical. Ms. Henderson was playing with her pussy. Her cuntlips. Her bare, eager, pussy. Nichole could hardly think of anything better, holding her clothes aside so her boss could play with her.

“Not a sound,” the executive repeated as her finger found Nichole’s clit. The young woman’s mouth gaped open as her world exploded.

But not a sound issued forth.

It was so much better that way.

Ms. Henderson had to grab Nichole’s arms as the young woman’s knees failed, the pleasure too intense, electric bliss rocketing through her. Ms. Henderson held Nichole to her as the aftershocks rode through the young woman, the feel of Ms. Henderson’s breasts against hers making Nichole’s eyelids flutter.

“Are you right now, dear?” Ms. Henderson asked a few minutes later, her hands still on Nichole’s upper arms to steady the young woman.

Mutely, Nichole nodded. How could she not be right? She felt so good. She’d finally got rid of all that hair on her pussy and Ms. Henderson had helped her see to her needs and she was still holding her and…

Ms. Henderson’s eyes were so blue.

“Now what shall we send you home in?” the executive mused. “Ah! I know! You just get out of all that.”

Unhurriedly, Ms. Henderson sauntered over to the pile of lingerie. Nichole quickly disrobed. She didn’t care that Clara was still there. That the woman had watched hungrily while Ms. Henderson had fingered Nichole to her glorious orgasm. Ms. Henderson must have wanted Clara there. So Nichole didn’t mind.

She stood there naked, almost serene, waiting for her boss to return.

“Put these on,” Ms. Henderson ordered. She was carrying a white lacy bustier and panties set. Garters drifted down from the bustier, ready for the white stockings that went with the set. “They’ll be just right, don’t you think Clara?”

The PA just shrugged, the gesture making clear that she didn’t care one way or the other.

“Doesn’t that feel good, dear?” Ms. Henderson asked as Nichole adjusted the last of the garters. It did. And the up garment, tight around her torso. And the silky panties against her deliciously bare skin. But then, anything Ms. Henderson gave her to wear would feel good. Nichole knew that.

“And you can put those back on,” the executive continued, indicating the skirt suit Nichole had arrived in that day, now hanging on the hock next to the door.

“There we are,” Ms. Henderson announced happily, patting Nichole’s left shoulder, smoothing the fabric of her coat. The older woman’s fingers trailed down, from Nichole’s shoulder towards her chest. Nichole hoped that those fingers would keep going, trail over her breast.

She wasn’t disappointed.

“You look quite professional, now don’t you?” Ms Henderson observed. “The skirt is just the right length to show off your legs without looking slutty. No matter what some people might say,” she added, with a glance in Clara’s direction. The PA simply huffed and crossed her arms. “The blouse is expensive, but understated. I do like silk. It says what it needs to without shouting it. And the coat is so well tailored. Well, it ought to be after how much it cost. But anyway. And under that, lingerie that’s just a bit naughty. No-one would know looking at you. They might guess, from the stockings, but they wouldn’t know. Doesn’t it feel good? The way that bustier cups your breasts? The silk of the panties against your bare skin?”

It did, Nichole’s arousal rising again.

Ms. Henderson’s hand was under Nichole’s skirt, her finger playing across the silk garment.

Nichole’s arousal flared.

“But they’re expensive too. Refined. Not cheap. Almost elegant. Just right for someone starting their career. I have been meaning to ask you, Nichole. Is working here what you expected? Joining the rat race, after graduating. Are you happy?”

Nichole frowned. Graduating. She hadn’t graduated. Surely she’d remember if she had. She’d only finished one year of her degree. She couldn’t have graduated. Or had she finished two years? Images and memories rushed around her head. She was drowning in them. She was losing herself. She couldn’t understand.

Ms. Henderson was watching her. Waiting for Nichole’s reply. The young woman was caught by those blue eyes. Latched onto them like a drowning woman would to a piece of flotsam in a storm.

“Oh, it’s great,” Nichole beamed. “Not quite what I expected, but you know. I always knew it would take some time to adjust.” Not every new graduate was so lucky in finding a job. And Ms. Henderson had been so good to her. Helping with her wardrobe.

And her needs.

“Yes, well,” Nichole’s boss sighed. “Back to work then. There are some more proposals for you to evaluate. You’ll find them in your email. I want your opinion before five. Off you go.”

Nichole turned and hurried out the room.

Of course she had to work. She’d graduated. Of course she’d graduated. That was Ms. Henderson had said. She’d joined the agency straight out of university.

Arousal was burning at her centre again, the feel of silk against her bare skin amplifying the pulses. Nichole was sure she’d be almost at boiling point by the time she saw her boss again. Maybe Ms. Henderson would let her get off again. Would it be Nichole’s hands playing with her bare pussy? Or Ms. Henderson’s? Nichole didn’t know. She didn’t care. Either way she’d get off in front of her boss.

She was so lucky.

(To be continued)