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Message-ID: <30957asstr$992902201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Reply-To: "Archaic69" <Archaic69@hotmail.com>
From: "Archaic69" <Archaic69@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} (parts1-3) Perfect Applicant (Ff, mc, hosiery)
Date: Mon, 18 Jun 2001 18:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


This story is not intended to be viewed by persons under the age
of 18, or under whatever age is considered adulthood in your neck
of the world. It has no basis in reality, and is intended as a
fantasy only.  If over the age in question, please use your own
good judgement.

This is my first story of this nature, so feedback
(archaic69@hotmail.com) is appreciated.
Now enjoy!

The Perfect Applicant (Ff, mc, hosiery fetish)


    "She is beautiful, is she not?"  Allison Taxton crossed her
stockinged legs, and turned to address her subordinate.  "An
absolute spectacle.  Look at her, Caroline, look at this footage
from today's interview: auburn tresses, slender build, buxom
figure, uhhgh."  The mistress encircled one of her own plump
assets with gloved fingers, and began to pet herself.  "I would
suggest that you attend me now, lest I have to come for you."
    Caroline rose from tired knees to tired feet, and did not
speak her acquiescence; the end of penis shaped gag parted her
red lips, had parted them for the better part of an hour, it's
shaft and tip forbidding coherent language.  What were not
forbidden by either gag or mistress were the animal-like grunts
with which her lips had been likewise associated this busy eve. 
Beneath the semi-sheer nylon of her black pantyhose, her buttocks
burned with pain.  It was the price Allison's displeasure, and
its memory moved Caroline quickly to her mistress now.
    Allison watched her girl approach, moving only her eyes in
anticipation. She continued to lightly pinch and massage her
breasts through the rustling nylon of her evening gown, but after
speaking to Caroline, the mounting passion had melted from her
face.  Now she stroked and caressed her own mounds almost
off-handedly; cold intensity had supplanted erotic merriment in
those beautiful, corn-flower blue orbs, and while she assessed,
Caroline knelt silently before her chair.
    Then, on the dark, silhouette-streaked floor of their
office.she waited.
    A business suit: black jacket and skirt, pinstriped, the
former hung loosely over a bosom like a pair of grapefruit;
between jacket and bosom was a creamy-colored blouse, soft, with
discreet, pliant buttons lining the front.  Between the
pinstriped skirt and it's obvious holding were pantyhose, a
gentle black that cradled both legs and womanhood in their silky
confines.  Sensible black heels and less sensible black choker
served as the only other unextraordinary adornments, though the
latter was mostly concealed during the business day by long, dark
hair.  The hair was up now, the choker prominent against tanned,
Hispanic skin.  Allison liked the visibility of her control.
    Caroline's breathing was rhythmic and heavy, the rubber
phallus depressing her tongue moved in and out slightly with each
momentary sag and lift of her shoulders.  Beyond that, the
silence was deafening.  Caroline knew that her mistress was
interested in extending the moment.  Only now and then would she
spare the girl her fixed stare: when her fingers gently coaxed
the more extreme pleasures from her breasts, her eyes would
flutter open and shut quickly, yet no further sound was uttered.
Finally, Allison smiled and sat straight in her office chair,
returning her elegantly gloved arms to the rests, and above all
signaling an end to the ministrations.
    She stood quickly then, and her navy heels clicked as she
circled behind her girl.  With a business-like twist of the
buckle behind head, the straps retaining her gag suddenly fell to
the side, and the penis slid blessedly from her mouth, hitting
the floor with a clatter.
    Caroline knew better than to move until instructed.  Within a
moment, she heard stocking feet being slid from shoes, and then a
clatter as they were tossed dismissively aside.  Then, the voice
of her mistress: "Pick it up."  Caroline did, holding the
saliva-soaked gag carefully aloft with manicured fingers.  "Now
turn and face me."
    Still on her stockinged knees, Caroline complied.  Her suit
skirt rode a bit in the effort.  Allison raised an eyebrow. 
"Sweet Ms. Holcomb," she said softly, reaching forward to brush
the kneeling woman's brow, "tell me a little about the girl you
were."
    Caroline's eyes closed, and she breathed in, gathering her
strength, attempting reassuring thoughts.  It's going to be this
again.  Please no.why must you make me remember? No.I'll be
strong; there may.even be some pleasure.if I am good.  This last
choked her more than the phallus ever had. What have I become?
"I." she started tentatively, eyes downcast. "I used to.."
    "No, bitch."  Allison caught her in the chin with her
stockinged toes, and raised her face until their eyes met.   "You
will tell me as you lick the penis."
    Caroline swallowed, could feel her mistress's silken foot
move away from her cheek with a graceful ease.  So sexy.God, no,
stop it.   She began again, this time lowering her eyes and
raising the slimy rubber cock at to her lips.  "I.I'm from a
well-to do family in.California.and I." she stuttered as she
tongued the phallus's base, "and I.I've always had
everything.ummm.that I've ever wanted."
    "A rich girl?"  Allison asked, playing an intrigued role.  "A
rich bitch?"
    "Ungh, um, yes, Mrs.Taxton," she closed her eyes and lathered
the cock with her tongue. "I was so, so rich.  Daddy.mmm.he would
buy his little girl.mmm.he would get her anything."
    "You were Daddy's girl.  Daddy's good girl."  Allison
chuckled, and slowly seated herself, moving to grasp the hem of
her dark blue gown.  "I like that.  But you got bad didn't you?"
    "Daddy, he didn't want me to go," she started, following the
prompt, "I was." her red fingernails played lightly over the
cock, ".I was.I needed.things."
    "Yes, sweetheart.yes.we all need things." Allison's gown
crawled slowly up her calves, her thighs, revealing more and more
stocking as it rose.
    Caroline began to lose herself, as had happened so many times
before  "I started.ungh.to be bad.  I.wanted things." her lips
encircled the phallus's tip in a kiss, "things.mmm.
Daddy.couldn't give me."
The gown was crumpled about Allison's waist now.  She too had her
eyes closed, her lace stocking tops exposed, her legs lean and
outstretched in a 'V', toes pointed.  "Why Caroline, you were
becoming a woman, a sexy, beautiful woman."
    "Yes.I.a woman." She tipped her head back in ecstasy, bending
the penis slightly.  "I.mmm.left.left Daddy."
"Yes, you left for the east.  You started school, you naughty
young lady." Allison began to stroke her panties, continuing in a
carefully paced whisper, "You should be spanked for your urges."
    "H.Harvard," she began to pant, and this time, as she
continued to manipulate the fake cock between tongue and left
hand, her right drifted slowly to the hemline of her own skirt.
    "Such a fine school for young ladies.  Taught you how to
dress, how to." a small gasp as her finger traced the outline of
her panties, ".to act.  You were to be a lady, my pretty pet."
    Caroline's initial rigidity had abandoned her: she was
half-bent now, with only one stocking knee still affixed to the
ground, while the other leg stuck straight out awkwardly behind
her.  The hem of her pinstriped skirt now barely concealed the
darker panty of her hosiery, while the majority of it was
crumpled across the cheeks of her ass.  Her eyes were closed, and
she bathed the rubber phallus in long runs, from bottom to top
and then back.  A small whimper escaped her lips as she tipped
off the penis a third time, for it was then that her right
fingertips brushed her nylon-covered pussy.
    "But then," Allison leaned forward in her chair until her
face was inches away from her unknowing slut's, "you came.to work
for me."  And she snapped her fingers.
    A light came on in Caroline's mind, and the floor met her
body in a rush.  She laid there, crumpled, face in the floor with
her long dark hair, still wrapped in its ponytail, cascading
alongside.  Then, without looking up, she gasped, in the quiet,
shy little girl voice that belied everything she had
been."Mistress, may I?"
    "Why, my little bitch?  Are you in heat?"
The trance of the last episode had dissipated.  Caroline lifted
her head to the height of Allison's knees.  Her face flushed with
humiliation.  But under her hose, her pussy flushed with need.
"Yes, mistress," she panted, every muscle tensed. "Your bitch is
in heat."
    "Then," Allison, still leaning forward, extended a hand, and
cupped one of Caroline's breasts through her now disheveled
blouse, "by all means."
    With a moan of lust, Caroline fell backwards onto the soft,
thick carpet and shucked her skirt around her waist.  Her hands
shot to her swelling crotch, and she split the now sopping wet
pantyhose that had concealed it. She grabbed the cock from where
it had fallen, and, legs aloft and apart, plunged it into herself
with desperation of someone who may never cum again. Her grunting
was no less erotic for being self-inflicted.
    "Uunhhhh!!"
    Allison leaned back once more to watch the lewd show.  The
expanse of muscular thigh that now shot straight into the air
shook and convulsed with each of her bitch's thrusts.
    "Uhnnh.uhnh."
    "You make noises like an animal, Caroline.  I knew you would,
the first day you walked into my office."
    Caroline didn't -couldn't-hear.  She continued her thrusts,
meeting hand-held cock with eager pelvis, both working without
rhythm, but with mutual desperation.  One of her high-heels
clattered to the floor, and she distractedly moved her black
stocking foot to kick off the other.
    "It puzzled me: your confidence, your intelligence, tempered
with your utter inability to discern my fa ade."
    "Oh, ugn, oh God.please." Caroline seemed ready to peak; her
toes were pointed, her eyes clenched shut, her words were
whimpered.
    "You were a perfect applicant.  But sadly."
    "UUUGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!"
    ".hardly a challenge."
    Caroline's legs fell to the floor like trees before an
axeman.  She laid there, phallus half-hanging from her delicate
womanhood, sweat soaking both hair and face, expensive suit and
hose overwrought in her desire to cum.
    Allison stood, and slowly walked a circle around her girl,
keeping a motion not unlike a detective does a chalk outline. 
She smiled.  "That is why our new applicant will be so good for
the company, pet.  You see, she," she indicated the glowing
monitor which had been so utterly ignored for the extent of their
encounter, "she will not be an easy candidate.  She is neither
dense, nor extravagant: I judged as much during our session."
    Darkness began to creep across Caroline's senses, a sleep
born of her harshly-bought cum.  But she strained to hear the
last of Allison's words. "And what is best.her entire purpose
here is one of perception.  What better challenge than the game
which knows it is in a huntsman's range?" Caroline's shifted her
body, and betrayed her inquiry by reopening her eyes to catch her
mistress's.
 "You see, my sweet, that beautiful creature asked one too many
questions. And what is more.when she stood to go.I saw the hint
of the wire tucked behind her jacket."
The darkness fled, and was replaced for the first time with a new
kind of light.
"She starts tomorrow."

END

Part2

The morning crept up on Jennifer Grey, first articulating itself
only as a sliver of light probing lightly between her curtains.
As the hour crept closer and closer towards 8 a.m. however, the
fabric between her sleeping form and the insisting day may as
well have been tissue. Jennifer turned once, turned twice, and
turned again, still not comprehending the sun's purpose in
intruding on her coveted slumber. Not comprehending, that is,
until the phone rang.

"Oh! Oh God." This wouldn't do. She snatched the receiver from
its mount, and in an instant composed herself utterly; when she
spoke her obligatory greetings, her voice had eschewed all
suggestions of slumber. Still...

"Ms. Grey. We didn't wake you, did we? I do hope not.
Occasionally our hours of operation throw even our more seasoned
employees off the clock, and I haven't even a watch on today."
The voice was unfamiliar, and a quick glance at the caller ID
panel disclosed nothing: 'OUT OF AREA.' But Jennifer had seen to
it that nobody else knew this number.

"No ma'am. It's a perfectly regular hour. Ah...I was just under
the impression that I was expected at six-thirty?"

There was a cheerful giggle. Definitely not Ms. Taxton. "Mrs.
Grey, I'm calling on behalf of the HSA to confirm your
appointment with us today. Ms. Taxton did mention the schedule; I
just wanted to give you plenty of time to prepare. The dress code
was covered with you yesterday?"

It hadn't been. Jennifer's mind raced, quickly attempting to
re-establish her character, her mannerisms so as to be consistent
with her performance at the interview. Acquiescence, not
assertion, was the key. "No ma'am. I presumed...businesscasual?"

"Slightly more. We here at HSA pursue a lofty clientelle, Mrs.
Grey. If I may suggest...?"

Jennifer smirked to herself. My agency has a few codes of it's
own, girl. You might as well be filling evidence bags for me.
"Please. I'm at a loss."

"Our attire is designed to compel, to sell, and to intimidate,
Ms. Grey. Stick with neutral colors at first. I suggest a
charcoal suit, skirt of an attractive but daring cut, a blazer
that can be discarded without ruining the outfit, pantyhose of
course (gray would be preferable to beige with that color) and
sensible, patent leather heels." She closed at the end with a
tone was better left to the reading of a shopping list. "I have
much to do now. I must be going. Good day, Ms. Grey."

Jennifer still held the receiver. Her mouth was open. I've just
been told what shade of hosiery to wear. Still, the woman had
qualified the comment as a suggestion. If there was anything to
this HSA assignment, they were no strangers to covering their
backs. She hung the phone up, and, smirking, picked up the other,
a black cell that was no bigger than her palm, before dialing.
"Hunts, Jennifer M." A pause, and then, "6-R-7-Y-B. Good. Thank
you. Hello, sir. Yes. Tell me, what sort of cash flow was I
allotted for this assignment?"

The large hand of her watch inched ever nearer the twelve, while
the short one rested uncomfortably atop the seven. Shit.
Jennifer's heels clicked quickly as she trotted up the stairs,
occasionally dropping an anxious hand to tug at her too-short
skirt. Shit, I'm late.

The day had been spent enjoyably, after business with the Agency
was out of the way. She had, she'd discovered, a federally
sanctioned budget of $10,000 with which to pursue the operation.
As she'd never had staff, and as most of her missions involved
less...subtle investigation, the sum had been entirely a mystery
to her.

No longer. The exceptional suit which she wore so closely matched
the one described that morning that it might as well have been
tailored by her caller. The skirt was the best: colored nearly
black, it was cut just above her gray stockinged knees. It made
her feel sexy and confident, but as she rushed up the stairs
towards HSA's sterile glass-laden entry way, self-consciousness
tempered her good feelings. I mustn't forget why I'm here.

The building was huge, pristine, and would have appeared vacant,
if Jennifer did not know better. HSA ran around the clock, she
had been told, stacking shifts differently as the need arose.
Hence, it was explained, their inclination towards unmarried
employees.

The glass doors parted with a whisper, and Jennifer slowed to
compose herself. With a deep intake of breath, she stepped across
the threshold, last week's instructions cradled carefully in her
memory: "Mrs. Hunt, your purpose there will be neither presume
guilt nor innocence. HSA is either squeaky clean...or it's the
most meticulously shrouded illegality in New York. Either way, we
don't expect your stay there to be a short one." With another
whisper, the doors sealed themselves behind her.

The entry was large and forbidding, consisting mostly of marble.
Columns paralleled the walls, and, at this late hour, succeeded
at casting sufficient shadow across the room that Jennifer did
not see the other woman until she spoke.

"Ms. Grey." It was not a question.

"Um. Yes. It's me." Jennifer approached and held out her hand in
introduction.

"My name is Caroline Holcomb." She seemed to appraise Jennifer,
and did not take her hand until her eyes had had their fill. When
they shook, Jennifer wondered if she'd ever felt anything so soft
as the other woman's hand. It was as though it had just been
doused in powder. "I will show you the way to the main office,
where we can get started."

She turned on her heel (a very high heel, she noted: nearly four
inches) and Jennifer followed her to the elevator at the hall's
end. But when the door opened with a soft ring, she merely
stepped to the side, and gestured.

"Aren't you coming?" Jennifer asked, puzzled.

There was a pause, and again Caroline roamed the new arrival with
her eyes. "I like your suit, Ms. Grey. And no, I cannot accompany
you. I've been assigned to other duties."

"Then someone will meet me up top?" Jennifer was feeling a little
odd, suddenly, and didn't want to go upstairs alone.

A strange light ran across Caroline's features...of
interest...or...anticipation? "No." She smiled. "Things run
pretty smoothly here, Ms. Grey. You'll find that your office has
been duly prepared."

Jennifer nodded, and with a slight shake of her head to clear her
nerves, stepped aboard.

Caroline watched the doors close, and then carefully withdrew a
cleansing rag from her own blazer before proceeding to scrub her
hands. Where she wiped, there came away a beige powder. I've
gotten you for her, pretty girl, she thought as she examined the
rag's new tint against the light. I had no choice, but I've
gotten you. She dropped the rag in the waste basket as she walked
away. Out damned spot.

Part 3

Perfect Applicant part 3 (Ff, mc, hosiery)

When the elevator began its ascent from the first floor, Jennifer
Grey was feeling a little unsteady on her feet. By the time its
seemingly rapid climb had put ten floors behind her, she had sunk
to her stockinged knees, black spots speckling her vision. And
when the doors opened at the 42nd floor, her prescribed
destination, she was no longer possessed of the consciousness to
appreciate the end of her ride.

Allison Taxton peered appreciatively at the crumpled young woman
from her newly-taken position between the doors. She pursed her
wet, red lips in a soft whistle. Lucky for you that I am not one
who favors the feast to the hunt. Soon there would be time to
gorge herself on the full-breasted, tightly-muscled girl before
her. But for now.the preparations.

She stepped quickly, purposefully from the elevator, into the
cubicle-laden office space behind her. Gesturing to two young
ladies, short-skirted blondes, gartered stockings evident, she
chose her words carefully: "Girls, you must show Ms. Grey to my
office via the scenic route. Consider during the trip that she
has not yet seen the breadth of this place." One of them smiling,
the other looking lustful, they nonetheless nodded their
compliance, and, with practiced ease, hefted Jennifer by hands
and ankles and maneuvered her deftly towards the other end of the
level.

Allison waited until they had rounded a darkened corner, counted
to ten, and then pursued, her four-inch heels clicking a steady
pace across the floor. In her mind ticked an insistent clock.
They had six minutes: six were all that the mind could
conceivably discount, in disorienting circumstances, all that
would not be missed when consciousness was renewed. They would be
done in four.

When she opened the doors to her office, the blondes were moving
with surgical precision. Jennifer's blazer had been doffed, was
hanging neatly from a nearby peg, and her creamy blouse was
coming along just as quickly. Allison smiled as Jennifer's
breasts, pear-shaped, large, and firm, swung heavily from the
confines of her just-removed bra. When Ms. Grey's entire torso
was stripped, one of the two girls looked at Allison and smiled.
"Not bugged today, Mistress."

"Excellent." This just kept getting better. "Quickly now, strip
her fully and proceed."

Giggling, one girl moved slightly aside, and, withdrawing a
transparent packet and metallic instruments from her purse, began
to fiddle with the various lacy articles that were being handed
her as Jennifer's violation progressed. Allison, hands folded
behind her back, began to circle the scene, taking it all in. At
this point, Ms. Grey's thinly cut skirt was being worked down her
long, grey-hosed legs, and Allison relished the lack of panties
under the hose. Allison knew that said something about a woman.
"You, my pretty pet, will be such a willful slut when I am done
with you." The stripee said nothing, of course, and the stripper,
eager to please, quickly began to roll the hosiery from herlegs.

Allison stopped, fixing her with a frigid glance: "Be careful not
to run them, bitch. Ms. Grey must never be compelled to consider
the circumstances of these senseless moments. She will wake, and
all will be well with her world." Allison renewed her pace,
noting the dampening condition of her own hose, white today, with
a sheer, high-cut panty. "She will not know, for instance, that
three of her own co-workers here at HSA," Allison ran her hands
across the kneeling girls' hair as she passed, " have seen her
tits and pussy. She will not know that one of those three," she
hovered a bit about the girl with the instruments, slipping a
stocking foot in and out of her black shoe, "has meticulously
placed tiny, remote, sensory inducers, within specific articles
of her clothing. She will not know that, despite their size, each
is capable of soliciting a bodily reaction equal to a vibrator in
the cunt." A cruel chuckle. "She will not know that these little
wonders are, in fact, nearly transparent, especially against
darker clothing." She placed index and middle fingers together,
and began to lightly massage circles across her own crotch, over
her skirt and hose. "Which.she will know, is what we require in
our dress code." Allison knew that she was distracting herself,
that she should be focusing, but every time her eyes wandered
across the nude woman below, she became more and more aware of
the ache between her legs, the pulsing, moistening need.

Her servants though, worked on regardless. 3 minutes had passed,
and more than anything in the world, they feared their mistress'
wrath should 3 more transpire before the job's consummation. The
tiny plastic slivers were placed quickly but accurately, wherever
in Jennifer's clothing an erogenous zone might find itself. Three
were in each cup of the black, lacy bra: one on each underside,
where the breasts' weight would be borne, one along the top of
the cup, where a lover's gentle kiss might be planted, and the
last along the centers, where Jennifer's soft brown nipples would
likely rest. Additionally, several were placed with rapid
precision in Jennifer's silken gray hosiery: one in each
reinforced toe and in each sole, one along the back of where each
calf would be delicately encased, and two in the darker gray
panty itself, one in front panel, along the seam, and one
opposite it, in the back. "We're ready, Mistress," said the girl
making the placements.

"Hold for just a moment." Allison was a creature of control, but
even she could be beguiled, under the right conditions. Still,
applying pressure to her womanhood, she knelt over her naked,
dozing prey. And with all the restraint she could summon, limited
herself to a brief kiss on each of Jennifer's erect nipples.

The moan took them all aback. Allison shot up, her eyes wide. The
powder.the powder was supposed to keep the victim utterly
unconscious of all stimuli. All stimuli for the allotted time. It
had never failed. Unless.it had not all been transferred.
Caroline Holcomb. Allison smiled appreciatively. Did you disobey
me? The prospect of it delighted her; she'd imagined that
Caroline had lost all use as an entertainment piece months ago.

Two minutes left now, if we are lucky. She snapped her fingers
quickly, and the girls rushed to dress the unconscious Jennifer,
pulling on pantyhose, shoes, bra, etc. Everything must be
perfect, every fold and tuck needed to match the condition of the
apparel before it was removed. The girls knew this, and satisfied
the requirement as quickly as possible. Still, the seconds ticked
on.

Finally it was done. Again hoisting Jennifer by ankles and
wrists, they rushed her to the elevator doors, which had been
held ajar. Jennifer gave little whimpers and stirrings during
this time, but remained blessedly asleep. Allison followed, her
nerve unchallenged.

Jennifer was propped up in a lean against the elevator rail, and
one of her shoes, which had fallen off during the transit, was
replaced upon her stocking foot by Allison, as the two little
whores who had aided scampered away to less public corners.
Allison then made one final evaluation of her victim, and, noting
that everything was in place, stepped back behind the sliding
doors.

*****

Jennifer shook her head from side to side. Elevator rides up that
many floors always made her disoriented. Nervously, she checked
her watch. God, I didn't think I was that late. As the elevator
bounced to a stop, a small chime rang, and the doors slid open to
reveal Ms. Allison Taxton, dressed immaculately, and tapping a
foot with impatience.

"Ms. Taxton, I'm sorry. I just got caught up in things and lost
track of time."

Ms. Taxton seemed to consider her excuse, a pretty weak on
admittedly. Then she smiled pleasantly and approached the new
hire with an extended hand. "Things happen, Ms. Grey. Welcome to
HSA."








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