—-
As I left the room the insanity of what I had just done came home to me and I knew that it must never happen again but that thought brought with it a rueful realization that it had been one of the most exciting moments of my life.
Later I returned to my apartment and took a long shower but, even having had something to eat, my mind was still buzzing with the thrill of it and I desperately wished that John was with me.
It was a warm evening and I sat on my bed dressed in a short nightdress whilst I browsed the case papers for the following day. It took about an hour and I knew that I was simply avoiding the one job that needed to be done.
Finally, I could put it off no longer. I picked up Laura’s file and began to think about the case notes. In due course I would receive a transcript of the interview, and I was mildly amused at the thought of what some poor young secretary was going to be obliged to type up, but for now I had to jot down my impressions and initial conclusions.
For the first time in my career I found it hard to remain dispassionate. Her seeming lack of remorse counted against her but she had thrown out the tantalizing hint that her victim was not totally coerced. My immediate inclination was to not put her name forward for the rehabilitation scheme but I was convinced that, given time, I could work with her.
Unfortunately, when writing up the notes, it was difficult not to picture her in my minds eye and that, in turn, brought me back to my own subsequent outrageous behavior. This remembrance brought with it a growing heat between my legs that was becoming harder to ignore.
Taking a pragmatic approach I put the file to one side and settled back into the piled pillows. Opening the bedside cabinet I took out my trusty vibrator and switched it on. I would treat myself to one orgasm and then I would get back to work.
I was surprised to find that I needed little teasing and I was able to slip the simple white shaft deep inside almost from the outset. I tilted it slightly to touch it against my clitoris and it was at that moment the telephone rang.
I switched it off but left it inside as I grabbed for the phone. I was surprised to hear John’s voice and only then appreciated just how late it was. He was back in his hotel room having entertained clients for dinner and he proceeded to tell me about his latest deal.
I loved him but, in truth, I could have done without hearing the minutiae of his business affairs. I understood how lonely it could get on the road and that sometimes you just needed a sounding board. From time to time I filled in with details of my day but, for the most part, he did the talking.
I must have done it without thinking because, as I continued to listen, I felt the vibrator buzzing deep inside and, before long, I was slowly pushing it in and out.
Lulled by the sound of his voice I slid a little deeper into the pillows and started to raise my hips to meet the movements of my hand.
I was no longer paying attention to what he was saying but I tried to picture his naked body. The problem was that as I grew more excited it was not his image that came to mind but that of Laura teasing me with her breasts.
I tried to dismiss it but my efforts were only halfhearted and each time I surrendered once more I felt myself getting ever nearer to a climax. At some point the phoned slipped from my sweaty grip but instead of retrieving it I used my fingers to caress my nipples which had grown painfully distended.
It took very little longer. I was soon pistoning the vibrator in and out of myself in an uncontrolled frenzy and squeezing my breasts. I tried to stay quiet but what started as a stifled groan became an uncontrolled shriek as I clawed my way to the pinnacle.
It was over quickly but then there was the sublime moment of knowing that there was to be no softening, that my loyal little friend would carry on untiringly until I decided otherwise.
I eased it out slowly but let the tip of it rest against my pubic bone from where the vibrations were transmitted to my still excited clitoris. I knew, from experience, that it would take a long time to come this way but I also knew that my patience would be rewarded with a second slow, drawn out, climax, which would leave me completely drained and ready for sleep.
As I surrendered to the pleasurable sensations I guiltily reached for the phone again but, in dropping it, I must have disconnected the call because all I could hear was a dial tone. I was not worried; John would phone back and I would apologize for accidentally cutting him off, but in the meanwhile …
I managed to tease myself for nearly an hour, occasionally varying the pressure to bring myself closer only to ease off at the critical moment but, throughout, I was still plagued with images of Laura and of the other young girl who had brought me so much unaccustomed pleasure earlier that day.
When I finally came I almost cried with the intensity of it and when it was over my body was sheened with perspiration. I decided to rest for a few moments before showering once more but I must have drifted off.
By the time I awoke the sun was well risen and I had to rush to get ready. Only as I was going out of the door did it occur to me that John had not phoned back but that would have to wait.
The day was particularly busy and passed quickly and once back at home I tried calling his mobile. When that failed I tried the hotel switchboard but he had requested not to be disturbed. I was not unduly worried figuring that he would phone as soon as he was able.
I cooked a meal and watched a little TV and, as he had still not called, I tried phoning again with the same results. Only then did it occur to me that perhaps it had not been me that had cut off the previous days call after all. More worryingly, if he had heard the noise I was making, it was not a great stretch of the imagination to see what conclusions he might have drawn.
I was now seriously worried. At worst he might think I was with someone else but even if he could be made to believe that I was alone it did not say a great deal about my interest in his conversation. I tried calling, on and off, for the remainder of the evening but to no avail. I even considered telling the hotel it was an emergency but, even now, my pride would not allow me to appear quite that desperate.
At worst, I figured that I could pay him a surprise visit at the weekend; he would not be able to stay angry for long once he saw me in the flesh. With that thought I went to bed for an early night. I had a long drive the next day and I wanted to be fresh.
My journey took me eighty miles west for a meeting with Nicola Stoke-Marnes. I was a little peeved that I could not meet her in chambers, which would have involved a short walk across town, but she was still recovering from illness and was only in the office two days a week.
Stoke-Marnes, a junior barrister, had been appointed as Laura’s defense attorney. In retrospect it was probably too much for her but, at the outset, the case had been seen as fairly routine with an almost inevitable outcome. Only later, as details started to come out, did the media frenzy begin and she suddenly found herself involved in one of the most high profile cases in recent years.
Having looked at the transcripts she had clearly done the best she could but the strain must have gotten to her.
I was headed for her weekend retreat, a mill cottage which proved a challenge even for my upmarket sat-nav. When it finally came into view I was immediately envious. It was a fairy tale granite building, dark with age, set in a large garden which graduated from immaculately kept to unkempt meadow.
I recognized her as soon as she opened the door to me but she looked so different. The press had made much of this beautiful, intelligent young woman and poked fun at a judicial system that obliged her to appear before the bench in outdated wig and gown. Now, casually dressed in sloppy tee shirt and baggy jogging bottoms, she looked naturally vivacious.
The strain was still there to be seen in her eyes but she smiled easily and it struck me that, she too, would have had no difficulty with a media career if that what was she had chosen to do.
She welcomed me into a living room well appointed with period furniture and offered me tea and cake that she had baked herself. We made small talk for a quarter of an hour and then I tried to get down to business.
“In order to complete my profile I would be grateful if you would let me have your personal impression of Laura.”
The inquiry seemed to put her ill at ease and she did not answer it immediately. Instead, she responded with a question of her own.
“This profile, it will determine whether or not she stays in prison?”
“No. She has been found guilty and she will serve a sentence. It’s my job decide if she would profit from rehabilitation.”
“You mean day release? To sweep the streets?”
I smiled before replying.
“No, this is something new. We are choosing candidates whose school records suggest that they might otherwise have been achievers. We will assess their aptitude and then we will give them tuition.”
“What good does it do? Nobody is going to employ them.”
“That’s what makes this different. The candidates will be guaranteed a job, There will be openings in finance, media even the law but it will be tough. They will receive education and training but they must then take and pass the required entrance exams. There is no feather bedding, they will be competing openly and on the same terms as job market applicants but if they pass they’re in.”
“And employers are going for this?”
“They have nothing to loose. Its good, cheap, publicity. We will meet the salaries for the first two years, including any promotions; if the candidates turn out to be genuinely unsuitable they can be sacked like anybody else.”
She seemed to think about this.
“Why do you think this will work?”
“Simply because, as they perceive it, they will be competing on a level playing field for the first time in their lives. It gives them a chance to get a foot in the door and prove themselves.”
She paused and when she spoke again there was an edge to her tone.
“Laura is not the sort of person you’re looking for.”
Taken by surprise I tried to explain further.
“Her guilt is not in doubt. What she did was totally and utterly wrong. Now it’s simply for me to decide if there is sufficient potential to work with.”
“That girl is evil, I don’t think you realize how manipulative she is.”
I was about to tell her that such a judgment was more in my province than hers when I saw the tears in her eyes. Before I knew it she had leant across the sofa and was sobbing freely against my shoulder.
The professional in me wanted to ease her away but I found myself petting her hair.
“You can talk about it if you want to.”
She was probably only four or five years younger than me but I suddenly felt much older. She sobbed for a little while longer and then sat up and dabbed at her tear stained face.
“I’m sorry. You don’t know what she put me through.”
The fact was, I probably did and for reasons I could not explain I began to feel uncomfortably warm. She collected herself and continued.
“It was my mistake. When she was out on bail we had to keep her in hiding because of the press intrusion and in a moment of madness I suggested the cottage. My boyfriend is abroad at present, finishing his doctorate, and so I thought it would give an ideal opportunity to put her case together.”
Her composure broke once more and she started crying again. Without thinking I pulled her to me and stroked her head to try and calm her and in fits and starts her story came out.
“She told me what she had done to that poor woman. Her language was crude as if she was deliberately trying to shock me. I made it clear to her that she was making it nigh on impossible to mount a defense but that only seemed to amuse her.
That night I had dreams. You have to understand that my career has always come first. I have only ever had one serious relationship, and that is with the man I intend to marry, but I couldn’t get the picture out of Laura and that woman out of my mind.”
Her tears were making my blouse damp but I continued to hold her close. I knew exactly what she had been through but it was clear that she was not as well equipped to cope.
“When I got home the following day I tried to go through it again. I made it absolutely clear to her that she was not helping herself but she didn’t seem to care. She wanted to know if her story had turned me on.
By that stage I was ready to give up on her but walking away from my first high profile case would not have looked good. I had trouble sleeping again that night but at least, when I managed to get off, I was able to dream about Justin.
I dreamt that he was with me, caressing me, it seemed so real…. Look I’m sorry…it’s hard for me to say this…”
“Take your time. There’s no hurry.”
She was racked with guilt and desperate to confide in someone and, being a doctor, I guess I was the perfect choice. It also helped that I had met Laura and knew how calculating she could be.
“In my dream Justin wanted me to…to go down on him…he pushed my head down and I didn’t like it. He was being too assertive and that’s when I woke up.”
My immediate thought was that her dream was nothing out of the ordinary. The coercion by her boyfriend might have been an unconscious manifestation of the pressure she was under but it was an otherwise healthy fantasy.
“She was there, in bed with me.”
For a second or two I did not comprehend.
“She was supposed to be sleeping in the spare room but I woke up and found her beside me. I told her to leave but she wouldn’t go. I threatened her, tried to push her out of the bed, but she is stronger than she looks and, besides, I have never been in a fight in my life.”
Her shoulders shook as she was almost overcome again but she seemed determined to get her story out.
“She was naked and I was hampered by my night dress. Somehow she got on top of me. She pinned me down. She made me…. made me do things.”
I think I knew exactly what she was made to do but the fact that, even now, she could not articulate it suggested just how traumatic the experience must have been for her.
I said nothing, waiting to see if she wanted to continue, but she must have taken my silence as condemnation. When she spoke again she was defensive.
“I tried to struggle but she threatened my face with her nails. I had no choice.”
My own feelings at that moment were curiously mixed. On the one hand I felt for her and wanted to see Laura punished but on the other I have to admit that I was faintly, but inappropriately, aroused.
I tried to set my mind straight.
“Afterwards, you didn’t report her, nor did you drop her case.”
“I couldn’t”
“Did you throw her out?”
“I wanted to…”
I waited for her to complete the sentence but she left it hanging and I have to say that I was intrigued. By now my blouse was extremely damp and she used her fingertips to gently, but guiltily, pull it away from my skin.
I turned her face towards me and her eyes conveyed a plea to be understood but I was still puzzled. It was then that I felt her hand and, in a moment of blinding clarity, it became obvious.
Her touch was unsure but she edged her fingers just inside my blouse.
“Oh my God. You enjoyed it didn’t you?”
She looked away from me, unwilling to meet the accusation, but she did not take her hand away.
“It was so… different. I never would have dreamt it.”
As she confessed it she was wracked by another bout of guilty sobs.
“You mustn’t anguish over it. No one will ever know and you must put it down to experience.”
Even as I said it I felt a total hypocrite. Who was I to give advice after my own recent experiences?
“You don’t understand. I love my boyfriend but I have never felt that way with him. After that first time she made me do it again and I couldn’t resist her.”
Her words gushed from her as the dam broke on her pent up emotions.
“Look, it makes no difference. What’s important is, that when it came to it, you acted totally professionally and represented her to the best of your abilities. I’ve read the transcripts and it was, in part, your defense of her that brought her to the attention of the rehabilitation committee. She was lucky to have you.”
For a moment my words seemed to have the desired effect and I could feel some of her self esteem returning but then she gave way again.
“But she’s changed me. I see women now…and I look at them…I…I imagine myself.”
“Believe me, it’s nothing to worry about. It might just be that you’re wired that way. You’d be surprised how many people are.”
I tried to project a professional confidence but that only encouraged her to open up even more.
“But how can it be right? Just now, when I opened the door to you, a total stranger, and all I can think about is what a beautiful woman you are.”
As she said it her fingertips slowly slid into the confines of my bra cup and I suddenly felt myself becoming a little light headed.
There was no more pretense. She flexed her fingers to make room for herself and then she gently pinched my nipple which swelled to meet her touch.
Now was the moment for indignation but I said nothing and allowed her to continue her exploration. She teased me, circling my areola, and I could feel her warm gentle breath against my skin.
I was now desperate to feel the touch of her lips but I had to be clear.
“Nicola, I can’t do this for you…”
I expected her to be disappointed but she simply smiled.
“Don’t worry. Just tell me what to do.”
It was surreal. Laura’s influence was obvious, as it had been with the young woman back at the remand center, and I could not shake the unnerving notion that she had deliberately set events in motion.
For a second or two I was torn. One part of me wanted to run, to escape the seemingly malign influence, but Nicola chose that moment to run her tongue slowly over her lips and I could no longer resist.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
She smiled and, taking my hand as she rose, she led me through to the back of the cottage. Sunlight streamed into the bedroom through a recently installed set of French windows and reflected from yellow painted walls. There were no curtains and there was a view across a field to an isolated copse of trees.
She sensed my awkwardness and smiled as she began to unfasten my blouse.
“Don’t worry, I own the field and no one ever comes by.”
Reassured, I stepped back from her.
“Get undressed.”
She needed no second bidding. She stripped out of her tee shirt and bottoms to reveal that she was wearing nothing underneath and then stood almost coyly as though waiting my approval.
She need not have worried. She was blessed with a beautiful figure. Her breasts, large to begin with, were emphasized by the narrow set of her shoulders and she had classic hour glass curves. My eyes dropped to her navel which was pierced and set with a small ruby and I smiled as I wondered what her colleagues in chambers would have made of this seeming act of rebelliousness.
Her legs were completely waxed and so it was a surprise to see that she maintained a lush, but well groomed, growth of dark hair at her sex.
In all she was a picture of healthy vitality and I was a little envious but that passed as I saw the look in her eyes as my own body was revealed.
I have had many men look at me and they have all shared the same lustful expression. They are appreciative of my beauty but only in so far as it serves to fuel their own physical release.
With Nicola it was different. She made me feel like a goddess and it was clear that her one desire was simply to bring me pleasure.
She walked passed me, gently brushing my shoulder with her hand, and then she proceeded to arrange the cushions on the bed. There were six of them, covered in gold satin, and she carefully heaped them to form a welcoming pile.
“Come and make yourself comfortable.”
I moved unhurriedly, almost theatrically, encouraging her to gaze upon me and then I slinked on to the bed. I reclined against the cushions and, having made myself comfortable, I slowly raised my knees and then allowed my legs to part.
She looked at me and smiled knowingly before her eyes dropped. Her mouth opened very slightly and the very tip of her tongue touched against her top lip. Her stare was fixed as she came towards me and slowly bowed down to lie between my legs.
“It’s beautiful…”
Her long, dark, hair formed a silky curtain as she paused inches from my sex and I could feel my labia swelling beneath the gentle warmth of her breath. She remained still for some time happy simply to look but then, slowly, she extended her arms and eased them under my thighs.
I felt myself being lifted very slightly before she closed to place a single delicate kiss at the center of my sex.
“So beautiful…”
After that she continued to kiss, each touch a slow gentle pursing of her lips which whispered against my sex.
The feeling was amazing. On the one hand I ached for her to lick me but I also felt incredibly relaxed. As the minutes passed she continued to murmur admiringly as she explored the whole of my mons which slowly began to weep its appreciation.
My body stretched and squirmed deeper into the cushions but she did not miss a beat. She rose and fell with me as she teased my inner labia. With each tiny kiss she drew them gently between her own lips before reluctantly releasing them and moving on.
I wanted to stay there forever and she seemed only too willing to oblige. Time slipped away but still she remained unhurried and I realized that, if she were to continue, she was going to make me come with this simple act of veneration.
With this thought I felt my sex grow warmer. I was already leaking profusely but now I felt a fresh outflow and my own scent wafted strongly. As though reading my mind Nicola chose that moment to look up at me for the first time in minutes. Her mouth did not leave my sex but she wanted me to see as she flared her nostrils and breathed in deeply.
She closed her eyes, held her breath, and then reluctantly exhaled.
“So nice…”
She looked transfixed, as though she had experienced the rarest incense, and it was this look of devotion that took me over the edge. It was not a jolting orgasm. In fact, for a moment, it was not like an orgasm at all. My body stiffened and my back slowly arched. I held myself poised for a few seconds and then I was aware of a tingling deep in my sex. It slowly spread through my body and I dare not move lest it be lost.
“Come for me…”
Nicola was kissing again, barely making contact, but it my heightened state I could feel every tiny touch.
The tingling grew more insistent and I began to pant as I held myself on a tightrope. To fall was to fail but the longer I held my balance the more intense the sensations became. My body was aching with the effort of it but all the time Nicola continued to coax.
“Now…let me taste it.”
Just one touch of her tongue would have released me but those gossamer kisses continued to tease it from me in a drawn out exquisite agony and then, with a final flush of heat across my skin, it began to ebb away.
I slumped back into the cushions, breathing hard, and tried to come to terms with what had happened. I felt relaxed, as I would after coming, but in some way unfulfilled.
Between my thighs Nicola was still smiling and I wondered at her endurance. Her neck must have ached dreadfully but she seemed unconcerned. She kissed until I was breathing normally once more and then I became aware of a new sensation.
There was a slight increase in pressure and then she gave a playful growl. She was running her tongue lightly over my mons stopping every now and again to gently suck moisture from my sodden pubis.
“MMmmmm…”
I could feel my labia swelling in eager anticipation but she ignored them as she moved downwards to lick at the declivities of my tensed inner thighs.
Even as she worked to cleanse my skin I could feel myself welling up once more but she was in no hurry and the effect was wonderfully soporific. The comfort of her arms, as they held me slightly raised, and the warmth of her tongue lulled me into a blissful state of being.
I closed my eyes and found myself quietly moaning. She was slowly bringing me back to the boil but I felt so languid that it was going to take her a very long time. For a fleeting moment I felt guilty but it quickly passed; if she was tired she would stop but in the meanwhile I decided to lay back and enjoy it.
Half an hour slowly passed and the sun had by now moved across the sky so that we were bathed in its radiant warmth. Her body remained perfectly still, as it had done throughout, and the only movement was the unhurried bobbing of her head as she went about her task.
In the reflected yellow light she was a perfect symphony of curves from the arch of her back to the swell of her neat derriere and the tapered lines of her sculpted legs. She was a thing of beauty and she was mine to do with as I wished.
I gave an almost silent sigh of joy and then I gently stroked the hair at the back of her head.
“Now my darling…”
Nothing more was needed. She shifted her head fractionally and then I felt her tongue grazing the very edges of my labia. I shivered in delight as she traced the same path over and over again patiently easing me apart.
Over the course of the next quarter of an hour she worked her way inwards until her tongue could go no deeper. My whole body felt incredibly hot but it was being stoked by the furnace that my sex had become.
I felt myself lubricating freely and every now and again she would pause to quietly swallow. She continued to dictate the pace and I was happy to let her. I had been growing a little restless, waiting for her to seek out my clitoris, but she had me so aroused that I was going to come without much further stimulation.
Her tongue was moving inside me as if it had a mind of its own and I squeezed it welcomingly. She seemed to find pleasure points that I did not know existed and she started to murmur encouragement. They were not words, simply sounds, but their meaning was obvious.
My body grew tense until I was shaken by tiny convulsions and the whole time she urged me on. Sensing the final onset she sealed her mouth tightly to my sex and moaned one last entreaty. The resonance was the trigger I needed and my body exploded in a glorious liquid release. It seemed to go on and on but she was not deterred. When I finally came down from the pinnacle I was dimly aware that she was still bound tightly to me willing to take all that I had to give.
At the finish my legs were badly cramped and, recognizing this, she slid her arms away allowing me to straighten them out to either side of her. She did not move but simply looked up at me with a rapturous expression.
“Did you enjoy?”
Her face was covered in my juices and perspiration beaded on her forehead making her hair lank but, even in this disheveled state she still looked totally desirable. I reached down and touched a finger to her cheek.
“It was wonderful…the best.”
Her eyes lit up at the compliment and then she smiled.
“Not yet…the best is still to come”
Without another word she bowed down. I felt her tongue at the apex of my labia and my clitoris stirred in response. I was exhausted and it would be an age before I was ready again, if at all, but she was willing to take as long as it took….
—-
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/icnjgw/the_laura_effect_ff_fdom_humil_part_2_of_5