Climax: Volume 2

by Ella Ford

  As the pleasure intensified, I felt my awareness blurring, collapsing down to the solitary focus of our hot bodies. My mouth, my pussy, my feet - my whole universe consisted of these hotspots of intensity. I longed to give in to it, to let it wash me away, but I held on, moving myself quicker until I could take no more.

  Meanwhile, Abby was captive to my attentions. Her head was buried against my sole once more, rubbing my foot against her face and moaning uncontrollably. As her frantic cries began to mount to a constant wail, I sensed that she was close and shifted my foot so that my toes were manipulating her clitoris directly. After only a few seconds of this new attention, Abby screamed out and her body shook, convulsing violently. She threw her head back, releasing my ankle so that my foot fell down onto her chest. I felt her toes go rigid against my face, her whole foot pointing forwards as she struggled to release the furious energy that raged through her. Her legs snapped shut, locking my foot on her pussy, unable and unwilling to break free.

  As my friend’s orgasm washed over her, I pressed down hard on my own clitoris one final time, releasing myself to the barely contained forces that had gathered within me. My body exploded! A blossoming ball of white light that raged outwards with quickening pace. I embraced it, allowing it to sweep through me and carry me it wherever it wanted. I felt my entire body go into spasm, my muscles going tight and hard. I pushed my face against Abby’s soft foot, possessed by an uncontrollable urge to smell her one final time, to taste her in my mouth. I screamed, unable to contain the energy within, needing only to release it or else lose myself in that furious maelstrom.

  From somewhere far away, Abby’s voice joined mine and we both cried out in mutual pleasure. Our entwined limbs writhed like serpents, and we coiled ourselves around each other, for one glorious moment becoming a single entity of sapphic lust.

  And then the force of the shared orgasm released us and our bodies relaxed, a limp tangle of quivering arms and pantyhosed legs. I sighed deeply and sank back into the couch, trembling all over with the echo of the fading intensity. I glanced over at Abby and found my friend staring back at me, a look of pure contentment lighting her face with the afterglow of our desires. I shifted my body and returned her soft foot to my cheek, then allowed myself to fall into a satisfied doze.

  Looking back, I consider that encounter to be my awakening. It cemented in my mind what I wanted, what I needed. In many ways, it was the beginning of my journey.

  It was a journey that Abby and I took together for a short while. Our shared passion being our sordid secret - celebrated in private, beyond the judgemental eyes of our peers. Snatched nights and bathroom rendezvous, we’d find numerous opportunities to be together in the following weeks, exploring our new desires and shared needs. I discovered more about myself in those heated encounters than in all of my twenty five years before them.

  All good things must come to an end though, and Abby soon found herself transferred to a new job in a new city and we parted ways, our kinky fling becoming a treasured part of our shared history, never to be forgotten.

  But while Abby left, my new obsession didn’t. I fell back into my old routine of furtive glances and internet porn. Now though, having known the pleasure of a woman’s touch, this solitary pursuit would not satisfy me and I found myself wanting more, looking further afield.

  I found my thoughts turning to action, and I had just the target in mind. A college intern, called Monique, a pretty young thing with a perfect body and legs that went on forever. She was working at my office for the summer, and was due for her monthly review meeting next week. Did I dare…?

  THE END, FOR NOW

  Her Boss Likes Pantyhose

  by Ella Ford

  Chapter 1

  You’re probably going to think that I was hopelessly naive. A simple midwestern hick girl with small town ideas and an idealized view of the world. But I honestly never realized that my boss had anything other than honorable intentions for me, at least not until much later. But looking back now, I’ll happily admit, something was definitely amiss after my first review meeting.

  I’d been in the city for two months, working for a small PR company downtown. I was lucky enough to land an internship with Blake and Chesterton thanks to a friend of a friend and her connected dad. It didn’t pay well, and I had to rent a room in the tiniest apartment that I’ve ever seen in my life, but it was a means of getting my foot in the door, my first step on the ladder.

  In truth, I really liked the work. It was mostly dogsbody stuff - fetch this, do that - but I met some really nice people and thought I was making a genuine name for myself, one that would hopefully lead to better things once I finally left college and tried to start my career.

  My boss was called Joanne Winters, a pretty and unassuming woman who I reckoned was maybe five years older than me, but appeared a little older than she was thanks to the sharp business suits she wore and her serious demeanor. I’d only know her for a month or so, having recently been transferred into her team, but she seemed friendly enough. She’d personally selected me to fill a place in her department after another intern, Samantha, had been offered a full time position and promoted.

  I guess what I’m trying to say is that nothing at all appeared out of the ordinary. My internship was fine, my boss was nice, my colleagues were helpful. There was no reason at all to think that I would find myself on the path that I found myself on.

  But on the day of my first review meeting with Miss Winters, things started to change, and my simple life would never be the same.

  “Well Monique, I’ve been very happy with your work over the past month,” said Miss Winters with a warm smile. My boss and I were alone in her office, and had spent the last hour or so chatting amiably about my work and what I wanted to do with my career. “Do you have any questions for me?”

  I thought about it for a moment. I was keen to sound as though I took an interest in my advancement. Back home, the girls always called me an overachiever, and I guess they were right. I always finished my homework on time, was always pleasant to my peers and I got involved with as many committees and groups as I possibly could. It was the only way to get ahead! Or so I thought. “I guess I’d just like to know what more I can do around the office to help you out,” I said, attempting to appear as obliging as possible.

  “Ah yes, objectives,” said Miss Winters warmly. She peered over the top of her reading glasses at the papers in front of her. “Let’s start by setting you some six month targets and we’ll review how you’re getting on weekly. How does that sound?”

  I nodded enthusiastically. Objectives! I felt so grown up and accomplished, a young woman on a path to glory! All I had to do was work hard and stick to my studies, and pretty soon I’d be living the middle-class American dream.

  “Firstly, I’d like you to take charge of the office supply contract. If I’m perfectly honest, Sarah has enough on her plate and I think you’re more than capable of ensuring we have enough pens and pencils, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss Winters, I can do that,” I said.

  “Okay, next, I think we can train you up in the company HR system. Would you speak to Jones in IT and schedule in a few days of hands-on learning?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied. This was going really well! Miss Winters obviously thought that I was ready for some real responsibility. I might even come out of this internship with a job offer, something to look forward to when I graduated next year.

  Miss Winters paused for a moment and idly flicked through her papers. “One final thing, Monique,” she said and reached up to remove her reading glasses. She shook her head and ran her hand through her hair, then fixed me with a curious expression that I couldn’t quite identify. “I’d like you to wear pantyhose to work,” she said and then fell silent, studying me as if she was looking for a particular reaction.

  “I-I’m not sure I understand… Pantyhose, Miss Winters?” I asked, wondering where the strange request had come from.

 
; Miss Winters picked up a pen and began to idly nibble on the end, never once looking away from me. “Yes Monique. I’d like you to wear pantyhose. I think it’s important to maintain a certain professional appearance in the workplace, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss Winters,” I replied.

  “And a woman looks so much more professional in pantyhose, wouldn’t you agree?” she drawled.

  “I suppose… I never really thought about it,” I said.

  Miss Winters smiled at me, and then turned her attention back to her papers. “Good, then I think that will be all. Let’s catch up next week and see how you’re getting on. You may go,” she said, casually dismissing me without even looking in my direction. Maybe I was imagining it, but I swear I saw the faintest hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks.

  But you know what? I still didn’t think anything of it. Asking me to wear pantyhose was no big deal - all offices had dress codes, standards that must be maintained. It never occurred to me, at least not at the time, that none of the other girls in the office wore pantyhose. And I certainly never thought anything of the way that Joanne Winters looked at me during my review, the way her eyes kept flicking down to my bare legs and my feet…

  The following weekend, I took a bus ride into the city and visited one of the large downtown department stores. If I’m perfectly honest, I’d never bought pantyhose before. Back home, my mom always made sure that I had a pair when I needed them - for special family occasions or my high school prom. They seemed dreadfully grown up and very old fashioned to me, restrictive and fiddly and hell to wear in the sweltering midwestern summer. But I always thought they made my legs look really good, smoothing out my blemishes and complementing any outfit.

  So it was with a certain degree of trepidation and a little excitement that I made my way to the hosiery section of the store and began to sift through the bewildering array of styles and colors.

  After several minutes of confused browsing, I finally settled on a handful of purchases. Two pairs of sheer, tan colored hose, a pair of nude and two pairs of sheer black. In truth, I found myself wishing that I’d asked Miss Winters more about what she needed me to wear, but I was too befuddled by the strange request that I didn’t think to inquire. So I settled on a range of colors and hoped that one of them would be right.

  After paying for my purchases, I hurried back to the apartment that I shared with a quirky nerd-girl called Jess, and shut myself away in my bedroom.

  I spent the next few hours playing dress-up; matching the pantyhose with my limited wardrobe, trying to figure out what I was going to wear to work on Monday. It seemed uniquely important that I achieve the right look, that I do my best to complete this objective. Pleasing Miss Winters was my key to advancement, and that all important offer of permanent employment.

  Eventually, I settled on the tan pantyhose and a grey, sleeveless dress and cute blazer, with low heeled black pumps. I straightened up and stood before the full length mirror by the door and studied myself. I looked, if I may be so bold, like a million dollars! I’m told that I am classically beautiful, and I always thought that I looked my best when I was properly dressed. This outfit was no exception.

  I’d fixed my raven black hair back in a tight ponytail, revealing my long neck and fresh face. The dress had a tastefully high neck, but was short enough on my thigh to show just enough leg without being vulgar. As I’d hoped, my legs looked spectacular! The pantyhose gave my toned calves and thighs a hint of a shimmer that danced in the bright summer light and invited the eye. I turned to the side and bent my knee, kicking my foot back and pointing my toes, enjoying the way that I looked professional and refined, yet still alluring.

  I could see why guys seemed to like stockings and pantyhose so much - the whole effect was just so touchable! Soft and warm and intriguingly textured, I found myself wanting to reach down and stroke my thighs…

  Anyway. With my outfit decided, I stripped down and neatly folded my clothes, ready for work on Monday.

  As I was slipping out of the grey dress, I heard a noise from the hallway, the sharp creak of the loose floorboard outside my room. I clutched the dress to my chest and stood with my heart hammering in my chest, wearing nothing but the pantyhose and my underwear.

  “Jess, is that you?” I shouted, surprised that my roommate was home at this time.

  From the hallway, I heard a faint cough and a quiet voice. “Yeah Monique, it’s me. I was just … uh … I was going to go out for some lunch, would you like to join me?” she said, sounding weirdly nervous. Jessica was a sweet girl, but she lacked the confidence that a modern woman needed to succeed, and spent a lot of time on her own.

  “Sure Jess, I’ll be right out,” I called back. A late lunch sounded just the ticket, and then I had the rest of the weekend free to relax and enjoy myself before work on Monday. I never thought to wonder what Jess was doing lurking about outside my room.

  Monday arrived and I headed to work as normal, smartly attired in the grey dress and the tan pantyhose. I had a long list of things that I needed to do that day, mostly related to the objectives set the previous week. I had a morning session with IT, an orientation on the HR system, and I needed to find a slice of Sarah’s time to discuss what I could do to help out with the supply contract. Sarah seemed to be eternally flustered, flitting between countless tasks while juggling the demands of her deadbeat boyfriend and herd of children. Every time I tried to talk to her, she had an aging mobile phone pushed to her ear and her head cocked sideways as she tried to remotely manage her family.

  On top of all that, I had my first follow up meeting with Miss Winters later that afternoon. But I wasn’t worried, I was on top of everything and was sure I was doing the best job that I possibly could.

  At lunchtime, my friend Jenny swung by my desk and asked if I wanted to go down to to the cafeteria for a quick bite. I had a spare thirty minutes between tasks, so I nodded warmly and we headed downstairs. Jenny was another intern, a streetwise city girl who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. A lot of her success seemed to hinge upon her being blonde and pretty, and she found herself predictably seconded to the male executives in the company. Jenny was pretty open about this, and seemed proud of her abilities and assets.

  “Hey, you look great today Mon!” exclaimed Jenny as we sat down to lunch.

  “Thanks Jenny,” I replied with a blush, “it’s my review meeting today and I wanted to look my best.”

  “Oh? Who’s your manager? Mr Dejardin?”

  “No, no. I transferred out of his department. I work for Joanne Winters now.”

  “Ah,” said Jenny, a sudden look of amusement flashing across her face.

  “What’s wrong? What’s so funny?” I inquired suspiciously.

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing…” she replied, and turned back to her sandwich.

  “No, come on Jenny. Let me in on the joke,” I demanded, suddenly nervous and wondering what on earth Jenny was thinking.

  “Well, it’s just,” she began, and I noticed her eyes flicking downwards beneath the table. “It’s just… I wondered why you were wearing those…And this maybe explains it.”

  I shook my head and looked at her, confused and not sure what she meant. “You mean my shoes?”

  “No, no. Your pantyhose. It’s a little warm for them, don’t you think?” she replied with a mischievous smirk.

  “Oh!” I said, suddenly understanding what she meant. “They’re just part of the office dress code. Miss Winters asked me to wear them as an objective.”

  Jenny smiled and patted my hand. “Oh, you poor little naive country mouse…” she said with a grin.

  “Wh-what do you mean?”

  Jenny leaned forward and looked around to ensure that nobody could hear us. “Have you not heard the rumors?” she whispered.

  “N-no… what rumors?” I was feeling a little nervous now. What had I missed?

  Jenny looked around again. “Well, I don’t know anything for certain, but her
e’s what I heard…”

  I leaned forward until my face was inches from Jenny’s, keen not to miss a single word of this obviously juicy gossip.

  “I’ve heard from Jones in IT that Joanne Winters has, well, certain unusual tastes,” she said, then sat back and took a bite of her sandwich, leaving me to ponder what she’d said. I looked at her with a perplexed stare, urging her to go onwards. “See, the company firewall tracks everything that every employee looks at. If it detects certain keywords, it triggers an alert and one of the IT nerds checks it out.”

  “You mean like porn and terrorism and stuff?”

  “Sure. Well, Jones said that a couple of months ago, they started to get alerts from Joanne Winters’ computer. It started completely out of the blue, but sure enough, every night after 5pm, they got hit after hit.”

  I gasped, shocked that my boss would be into stuff like that. “What was she looking at?” I asked, desperate to know more, still not seeing how this related to me.

  “Well, this is where is starts to get weird,” said Jenny. “She was looking at some real kinky stuff, but all of it had a theme: feet.”

  “Feet? I’m not sure I…” I began, feeling an unmistakable sense of realization creeping up on me.

  “Yeah, feet. Like foot fetish porn. Jones reckons that it was pretty hot stuff, but he’s a massive pervert himself - ask him to show you his own collection one day!” she said, and seemed to drift off into a private memory. “Anyway, lots of videos of women sucking each others’ toes, pictures of feet, heels, shoes… pantyhose,” she said, then sat back to study my reaction.

  I gasped, suddenly aware of how naive I’d been. I was shocked - that Miss Winters was a lesbian and that she was into such weird stuff, but also that she apparently had designs on me. I felt humiliated and violated, objectified by someone who should have had my best interests at heart. My heart was hammering, the feeling of revulsion mixing with the growing awareness that I still had to get through my meeting that afternoon.