6 comments/ 44569 views/ 1 favorites Controlling Cassandra Ch 01 By: julie_julia This story is collaboration and developed out of an encounter with my on-line friend Cassandra. We've gone to a lot of trouble to keep it authentic and accurate. Hope you like it. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I paced the floor, agitatedly looking at my watch and willing the minutes to pass by more quickly. In fact, I hadn't been able to settle to anything since Cassandra had called me at work to tell me she'd been shopping for clothes on the internet. She'd insisted on coming round to my home that very evening to show me what had arrived in the morning's delivery and I knew I was going to enjoy the show. I'd met Cassandra in the local supermarket where she works as a check-out supervisor. She's just the type: bubbly and energetic, good with people, seemingly patient on the surface and able to cope with the long and erratic hours. But that's not what attracted me to her when be began to chat on my ever more frequent visits to her store. I found myself shopping there only when I knew she'd be working on the store sales floor and deliberately fluffing the self-scan check-out just so she'd come across to help me. She'd stand close and tower over me; 17 years younger than me she's at least 7 cm taller, much more when she wears high heels. Slim verging on skinny, she has the most captivating green eyes, long dark hair and legs that go on for ever. So is that what makes her stand out? No, it's her clothes. I work in recruitment and am spending 3 months in Canada trying to persuade experienced fashion industry professionals to move to England where I'm finding it increasingly difficult to fill middle management positions in clothes retail sales and distribution. But Cassandra has more appreciation and understanding of how to dress sexily and provocatively than anyone I've met inside the clothes industry. A college drop-out, Cassey (as she likes me to call her) is intelligent, highly perceptive of people and their behaviour and is frankly wasted in supermarket work. Despite hours of eager anticipation I still jumped when the bell rang. Opening the door to my temporary home in the upper middle-class district of Calgary, I stood in awe as I looked up at the stunning young woman standing in front of me. Seemingly even taller than usual, her eyes shone down on me from under her strikingly imaginative lightning-strike face make-up, her hair glistened and she smiled sensually as he accepted my invitation to enter. Cassey was wearing jeans and a jacket. But being Cassey it was no ordinary outfit. The jeans were a dark blue colour with patterns all over of very thin swirls and numerous small stars. Pale bleached lines traced up from where they ended just above the floor, flaring widely to cover whatever shoes she must have been wearing to stand so tall. Then narrowing to tightly encase her legs from her knees upwards to finally disappear under her jacket. This was made from a random patchwork of irregularly shaped swatches of brightly-coloured leather. The neck was zipped up high under her chin and the waist was tightly fitted. The front was almost flat as Cassey is not classically curvy. The hem widened out aggressively to finish just below her bum, but the sleeves were the most remarkable, flaring out from below her elbows to almost totally cover her hands. I took Cassey's shoulder bag from her and offered to help her out of her jacket but she declined, purring "Not yet, sweet Julie, but soon." Then she leaned towards me and planted a long sensual kiss directly on my lips. I shuddered. Of course, we made the usual small talk and she wandered around my home making polite and very astute observations about the owners' taste in furnishings and fabrics. But we both knew the atmosphere was highly charged and even though this was the first time we'd met in a totally private place we were not going to spend the evening discussing drapes and cushions. Cassey followed me into the kitchen and we chose a bottle of cold white wine from the refrigerator and I poured two large glasses. My new friend swallowed half of hers in a moment then giggled, grabbed my hand and half led and half dragged me back into the living space. "Bring that too!" she insisted, pointing to one of the high breakfast-bar-stools, which I carried though and, guessing her intent, I perched on it and intently observed my bubbly bouncy companion. Rummaging in her bag Cassey pulled out a high-capacity computer memory card and explained she'd just downloaded a liveset by one of her favourite Trance Music DJs and insisted I play it over the music system. The bass-line thumped in 4/4 time and Cassey began to sway. "Hey, Julia, do you like the jacket then?" she enquired rhetorically, moving her arms away from her sides to draw more attention to the distinctive sleeves. She'd known straight away that I did by the look on my face as I opened the front door. But I was more interested in the whole package than just the jacket. Cassey danced and twisted seductively to the intense and atmospheric music as the sound developed and evolved with an underlying powerful emotion. My private dancer then took hold of the zipper of her multi-coloured jacket and began to pull it downwards. Little by little. And very slowly. As the high neck parted I saw she had a wide green choker around her neck, seemingly assembled from numerous tiny crystalline beads threaded onto wires. As the zipper continued its downward journey, more bare skin emerged until, from my vantage-point perch, I could see the beginnings of her top. Also green but this time quite shiny and apparently made from metalised stretchy fabric. All the time Cassey looked me in the eyes and each time I dropped mine to admire the evolving show, hers were still focussed on mine when I looked back up. Until, that is, she'd completely unzipped the jacket (this had taken at least two minutes so far, with frequent stops to gyrate to the music). Cassey held the jacket closed, pouted and purred: "Do you want to see what else I've bought, Julia?" but instead of opening the front she turned her back towards me and, looking over her shoulder and shaking her long dark brown hair, she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders. This was no longer a fashion show. This was a strip-tease. Cassey knew it and knew exactly how to enact both parts of that evocative hyphenated word. From the back I saw that her newly acquired clothing was just a tight, elasticated, shimmering club-dancewear tube top with no shoulder straps. No more than 25 cm deep, it began just below her armpits and ended at about 20 cm above the top of her jeans. How could this be? OK, Cassey is tall and skinny. Why so much bare back? Simple. Because her jeans were the lowest-rise style I had ever seen. They finished (or started) well below her coccyx exposing the tops of lovely smooth ass-cheeks and several centimetres of perfectly neat bum-cleavage. I shifted awkwardly on my high stool, trying not to acknowledge the beginnings of arousal building inside me. Cassey looked over her shoulder at me and smiled her bubbly smile but her eyes conveyed something deeper. She hooked long fingers under the bottom of the tube either side and pulled it down, smoothing out any slight rucks and covering only a little more of her long curved back. The unblemished smoothness of the material only confirmed that she wasn't wearing a bra and my mind raced ahead to try to imagine the sight that awaited me when she eventually turned around. Cassey delayed the moment as long as plausible then, with her arms crossed in front of her, slowly turned around. "Well go on then!" I pleaded, and Cassey opened her arms. As I'd anticipated, Cassey's breasts were perfectly outlined by the contours of the clinging glistening fabric. I'd seen her before in skimpy and tight-fitted clothes, only when we'd gone out to bars and cafes. Not even Cassey dresses so alluringly when she's working, but when she goes out she dresses like a hot slut. Not because she is one but because she simply enjoys wearing those styles of clothes and has the self-assuredness to be what she wants to be not what others interpret that to be. And she likes to tease me. But I'd never really been able to make out the shape and size of her boobs. This time there was no doubt. The stretchy tube top clung over, under and around a pair of perfectly symmetrical breasts, not very large but beautifully curved and with quite small but very noticeable nipples jutting out from dead centre and poking tight peaks in the fabric. My eyes were fixed, but I sensed the expression on Cassey's face confirming that she was having the desired effect on me. Yes, the effect was desire. She turned sideways-on so I could admire her form in profile. Her new top was unlikely to be substantial enough to be distorting the shape of her breasts so I had to conclude they were firm and completely self-supporting with no droop at all, as you might expect of a lithe, slimly-built 22 year old. And her areolae around nipples swelled discernibly beyond the rounded curve of her small boobs. Her new top had several short cuts deliberately slashed into the material across the centre down the front affording me a tantalising glimpse of wide, shallow but none-the-less very alluring cleavage as well as two longer gashes below her breasts though which I could see more smooth skin. But not as much as I could when Cassey grasped the hem of her top and pulled it upwards over her upper body (slowly, of course) and over her face. When she could see me again she stopped with her arms held high above her head. She must somehow have known just how much I enjoy seeing a woman in that position. The taughtness of her muscles pulling her naked breasts higher still on her chest, flattening them more and forcing her smallish but perfectly neat nipples and rounded areolae to point more forcefully forwards in small protruding cones. It was all I could do to stay seated and not step forward and take an inviting nipple into my mouth and suckle on it. Cassey slipped the top off and tossed it onto the sofa beside me, lowered her arms beside her body and relaxed. "You've been wanting to see these for a while haven't you, Julia? Like them?" Cassey's boobs are much smaller than mine but so well defined. "Love them," I replied, "They're beautiful," feasting on their aesthetically pleasing appearance but now wondering what they felt like too. Forcing myself to look lower I admired Cassey's neat 'innie' navel that I had seen several times before (Cassey's slutty going-out clothes rarely cover her midriff), but never adorned to attractively with a long dangly eastern-ethnic design decoration swinging from a piercing ring and matching her beaded choker. It swayed as Cassey gyrated her body and rocked her hips to the beat. As the music moved onwards at a constant intoxicating beat my attention moved down to Cassey's jeans. They seemed even lower at the front than the back, the waistband dropping well below her flat tummy and exposing the prominent bones of her pelvis. My eyes followed the small angled creases leading towards her pubic mound that was only just concealed. We're talking seriously low low-rise jeans here. I had to conclude that, if Cassey had kept a full bush of pubic hair, then more than just a few small curls would surely now be visible. Their complete absence suggested at least a neatly trimmed pubis, or more, or do I mean less? Cassey downed the rest of her wine, moved her hands to the two simple fasteners at the front of her jeans and moved her self much closer to me. I looked into her green eyes, which seemed to smoulder with deep desire. I studied them. Every perfectly-mascara-ed eyelash, every neatly-plucked eyebrow hair, every pore of her young, taught, crease- and blemish-free skin around her expertly made-up eyes attracted my attention as I admired her intently. She blinked slowly and deliberately then looked downwards, taking my gaze with her, willing me to watch as she slowly unfastened her jeans. Cassey stood back a little, directly in front of me, and slowly gyrated her hips. Each complete side-to-side movement was precisely timed to 8 beats of the thumping music. And with each movement she gradually eased the waistband of her jeans a little lower. My eyes darted from her flat abdomen to her slim contorting waist, up to her firm and captivating breasts, up to the choker around her neck, then back down again feasting on bare flesh, erect pink nipples, the slight but distinct curves under her boobs and the swaying jewellery speared though her navel. As more raised pubic mound and broadening hips came into view, so did the narrow dark green waistband of an unbelievably low and skimpy g-string or thong. Cassey obligingly turned her back to me so I could see the point where an equally narrow strip of fabric was stitched to the waistband and immediately disappeared between the cheeks of her nearly-exposed ass. Cassey gyrated some more and pulled the jeans down further down over her bum, which she wiggled and thrust towards me. It took all my self-control to stop myself from reaching out and either caressing or even slapping the smooth curvaceous flesh that Cassey had so wantonly and confidently bared for me. My teasing private slut-dancer turned back to face me and stood up straight. She clasped her hands behind her waist, pulled her shoulders back, arched her spine and curved her whole body away from me so her breasts pushed outwards from her chest. She thrust her hips forward so her jeans peeled downwards off her pussy mound and slipped down to her thighs. I stared amazed as only the tiniest narrow triangle of green material struggled to only just conceal the crack of her pussy and no more. My earlier question was now answered too. I could see that her mound was indeed shaved completely smooth and it swelled provocatively from either side of her tiny, ultra-low, almost-non-existent g-string. Cassey rocked her pelvis so that her jeans slid lower down her thighs then stood still for a moment with her hands on her hips, looking at me but saying nothing. I spoke first: "Cassandra you're a wicked slut! Where on earth did you get that?" She just smiled and purred: "We're not here to talk about shopping, are we Julia. That's not why I asked to come round and that's not why you invited me in, is it. I'm here to show and you want to watch. Right? That's what we agreed. Then watch." The music had moved into a slightly softer tune, a love song with female vocals signing quietly. Cassey moistened her lips with her tongue and tilted her head forward a little so her hair fell onto her face and she had to look up at me from under her slightly drooping, dreamy eyelids. She parted her knees as far as the jeans around her knees would allow and made slow humping movements from her waist. I knew from her expression that she was enjoying the sensation of the g-string working its way deeper into her slit. She closed her eyes, parted her lips and sighed a long deep sigh, then snapped out of her almost trance-like state and sunk back onto my sofa. "Help me get these off will you please?" Cassey proposed, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her jeans and sliding them down her hips. I slid off my perch, welcoming any opportunity to get closer to Cassey or even to touch her. She lifted her feet off the cushions and held them at my waist height. With her knees apart I couldn't help but look at her swelling pussy mound and the tiny triangle of damp green material that had nestled itself deep into her opening. Cassey saw me. "You'll get a much better view of her later, if only I can get out of these!" I could see her problem. Although her jeans were widely flared at the bottom they were tight above her knees. Cassey still had her shoes on although all I could see of them so far were the soles and their very small diameter pointed heels. I grasped the bottom of one trouser-leg and pulled as far as I could then the other. Repeating this as Cassey held her hands behind her knees to take the weight of her legs, I gradually eased her jeans over her feet. With I final pull I succeeded and fell backwards, collapsing in a heap of denim and making us both giggle childishly. The laughter was really just to conceal our nervousness, as we knew the erotic temperature had just risen ten degrees. As I sat on the floor between her feet, Cassey moved her hands apart, spreading her legs wider and parting her pussy lips so that the triangle of her g-string effortlessly slid further into her cunt-gash. Cassey moaned quietly and closed her eyes for a moment as I savoured the sight and aroma of her near-naked pussy. Suddenly Cassey closed her legs, trapping me between her feet. It was only then that I really noticed her footwear. She had on a pair of ultra-high heeled shoes made entirely from plastic. The soles must have been 5cm thick and the heels easily 15 cm high, conical in shape and tapering from 8cm diameter to less than 2. The soles and heels were basically clear but with mutli-coloured neon swirls embedded into the transparent plastic material. Single straps around her insteps and behind her heels kept them on and Cassey's toenails were painted emerald green to match her fingernails and her eyes. Cassey stood up and offered out a hand to pull me to my feet. We stood facing each other, she looking down on be from her raised vantage point. I tentatively reached out to touch her waist but she reacted to the swirling music and spun away from me. Standing out of reach, Cassey maximised the stunning effect of her high shoes by posing provocatively in just her g-string, pouting and constantly throwing coquettish glances at me. She moved her hands to her shoulders, only to immediately move then downwards over her body, caressing her breasts on the way down and especially her nipples causing then to peak into an even more erect state. Lingering on them for another eight rhythmic bars of the trance-music, she then slid them more quickly down her torso, playing with her adornment over her belly before slipping two fingers under each side of her g-string. I watched captivated as I anticipated her next move, expecting her hands to continue downwards to peel off her g-string. But no. Instead, Cassey pulled her hands upwards, dragging the narrow waistband of the string up onto her hip bones, then higher still until it was pulled taught and cut into her lean flesh. Cassey gyrated and rocked, bucking, rotating and swaying her hips. Her small boobs moved to the rhythm but, as arousing as that was to watch, her pussy attracted all of my attention. And hers. Cassey moaned loudly, sighed, cried out and breathed deeply but waveringly as she pulled the narrow band between her legs deeper into her parted pussy and hard against her ass-hole. The engorged flesh of her mound spread widely either side and the darkening colour of the green material betrayed the wetness of her cunt. There right in front of me, Cassey was clit-frigging herself with the tiniest excuse for a pair of panties I could never have imagined. She was getting off on the sensation of the rubbing, rasping movements as it easily slid over her bud that by now was copiously lubricated with her exuding natural juices, whilst brazenly exposing herself to her exhilarated horny audience of one. Me. I was speechless, but Cassey still knew exactly what I wanted. She turned her back to me and bent down, pushing her bum out whilst spreading her feet (in those awesomely high shoes) much wider apart on the floor. My exhibitionist friend dropped her head and looked at me from between her knees, presumably to ensure I was till intently watching the show. I was. In fact my eyes and my attention were transfixed on Cassey's ass and her g-string. The narrow strip of green material ran exactly down the centre between her cheeks, pulled tight and hopelessly failing to conceal the clean pink bud of her ass-hole. It then traced a thin line down to her pussy where it all but disappeared into the perfect swollen pink inner lips of her cunt. The wet triangle began to spread only just beyond the opening of her vagina, concealing her clitoris and its hood but little more then tracking up the beginnings of her smooth pussy mound. Cassey placed her hands on her bum cheeks and pulled them further apart so I could get a better view. "Is that good, Julia? Is that pretty? Is that what you want to see?" I didn't answer with words but Cassey would have been able to hear my shallow breaths as I struggled to inhale though a dry parched mouth. All I could manage was: "Mmmmmmmmm" Controlling Cassandra Ch 01 My erotic entertainer then moved one of her hands around to her abdomen to grasp the thin straps of the g-string where the small triangle was stitched to the waistband, and with the other she took hold of the intersection of skimpy straps at the back. With a coordinated pulling motion she dragged the central fabric strip back and forth between her legs, sliding it between her engorged lips and rubbing the stitching over her clit. Her legs shook and Cassey cried and moaned as she immersed herself in the stimulating sensations she would have been enjoying, whilst I perspired profusely inside my day-clothes. She must have been close to orgasm, still performing strictly to the rhythm of her favourite trance music livesets, yet still coherent enough to repeat: "Watch me, Julia, watch me." I took that to mean 'watch me come', but Cassey stopped her frigging-show and instead took hold of the sides of the string. Again in perfect time to the music, she rocked her pelvis, wriggled her bum and slid the miniscule strappy creation down her thighs, first one side a little then the other and finally extracting it from the wetness between her legs. I feasted my eyes on her totally bare and exposed cunt. Her pink pussy lips glistened with her juices and her hole pouted invitingly at me. Her clit-hood opened outwards in a neat triangle and there, clearly visible to me, was the ultimate focus of Cassey's panting attentions: the small but beautifully smooth rounded pink nub of her clitoris. I dared to reach out my hand and began to tentatively walk the short distance towards her but Cassey broke the tension. She put her feet together and let the g-string drop to her shoes, lifting first one then the other and stepping out of it as she stood upright and turned to face me. "Do you like what you see, Julia?" What a fucking stupid question, I thought to myself. Standing tall on her high shoes in front of me, inviting my eyes to roam over her now totally naked body, I surveyed the beauty that stood before me. Young, pretty, lithe, slim, with distinct but not exaggerated curves where you'd expect to find them and none where you wouldn't. Some would call Cassey's shape skinny but I considered it perfect and told her so. Then something struck me as Cassey parted her feet and tilted her pelvis so her mound protruded forward provocatively from below her abdomen. Cassey did not have a single hair on the whole of her body. From her face and down her neck, under her arms, over her torso and her mound, between her thighs and right down her legs to her feet she was totally smooth. Shaved, lasered, waxed, electrolysed or what ever, it made no difference. Cassey was pale-skinned, silky-smooth, blemish-free and totally denuded of hair. Not the slightest wisp or curl. Not the smallest spike of stubble. Nothing. There she stood in front of me as nude as any woman's body could be. I loved it. I wanted to. Yes, she had lovely long hair on her head. Yes, she still wore her jewellery and make-up. But Cassey was clean and tidy. And so very, very sexy. Hot, desirable, stunning to look at, she was in her prime, and I wanted her. Badly. By contrast I felt outrageously over-dressed and very warm in my smart work-day clothes. My temperature and my arousal rose higher as Cassey continued to sway to the music, unashamedly exhibiting her slender naked body and pirouetting seductively yet always keeping just out of my reach. I wanted to touch her, feel her smoothness and taste her skin but each time I moved closer she just side-stepped me. She turned down the music, and turned up the tension. Not just an uninhibited show-off but a teaser too. I felt so horny, so frustrated and I was perspiring profusely inside my business suit, rib-knit top and lingerie. Cassey dresses like a slut on every possible occasion and even when she wears what she calls 'safe' clothes she still smoulders with a disarming sensuality. By contrast, although I can and do dress as provocatively as a woman nearing 40 can get away with when I go out socially, Cassey thinks my working clothes are very dull and conservative. I suppose they are, and my outfit that day was no exception. "Cassey, I'm burning up in here!" I complained. My only option seemed to be to join her in her nakedness but as soon as I lifted one hand to the single buckle holding my smart jacket closed, Cassey reached out and pulled it away, holding up a finger to signal 'No'. Shit! I desperately wanted and needed to strip out of my sensible outfit, and now the hypocritical bitch wouldn't let me! But she smiled smugly and, as if to accentuate the absurdity of the situation, Cassey picked up just her leather jacket and slipped her arms into it. But exhibitionist slut that she is, she left the front unzipped so I could still catch glimpses of her indistinct cleavage between her small boobs, her dangling navel jewellery and her bare pussy mound. Then, when she turned her back on me, I could admire her cute bum as she reached down into her shoulder bag to pull out a pair of shiny stainless-steel scissors. I shuddered as the light caught them and I wondered what on earth she planned to do with them, but my worst fears were soon dispelled and replaced by a renewed excitement and arousal as Cassey cut though the buckled strap at the front of my jacket. The harsh sound of sharp steel though expensive fabric seared though my ears and my jacket lapels parted. Did she hate my clothes that much? Or was this a totally different agenda. Cassey stared deep into my eyes to gauge my reaction and to dare me to chastise her for damaging my smart clothes. No chance. None whatsoever. The thrill of being cut out of my suit was intoxicating and I returned the stare, eyes half closed, giving her my clear, implicit, unspoken approval to continue. Cassey sunk slowly to her knees and took hold of one of my arms. With the scissors she cut along the inside seam almost as far as my elbow so the sleeve opened out into a small flare. Then she cut through the lining about 8 cm up the inside of the sleeve and turned down the hem so the ragged edge of the now-much-longer sleeve all but covered the palm of my hand. I shook my arm and felt the cooler satin lining material against my hand; Cassey smiled her approval at my slightly debauched appearance before repeating her desecration of my other sleeve. I raised my arms so my sleeves hung like ragged bats' wings and the front of my jacket parted to show off the outline of my perspiring 34C boobs through my tight top. Cassey tilted her head on one side and let out a slow quizzical thoughtful 'hmmmmm ...' then took the scissors to my ribbed top and cut a wide, very deep vee out of the front, from the rounded neckline down to within a few centimetres of my navel. Of course, the stretchy top pulled apart and exposed a cleavage much deeper and more prominent than my assailant's. Cassey squealed with delight at the sight of my rounded boobs swelling up out of my white satin uplift bra, so pretty and exquisitely made yet such a contrast with the roughly-hewn edges of my ravaged cream top. Feeling more like a street-corner whore than a recruitment consultant, I tugged the lapels of my jacket and the cut edges of my enforced plunge-neckline further apart to fully expose my satin-squeezed breasts. My nipples hardened as feelings of wanton lust rushed though me, poking peaks in the smooth delicate material of my expensive Italian bra. Cassey must have taken this as an invitation to further undress me in this exciting and wholly unconventional way, using the scissors to cut right though the single, delicate strip of satin that nestled between my breasts. My bra cups parted and my boobs dropped and spread only slightly to adopt their more natural but still firmly-rounded shape. Now exposed to the cooler air, my nipples suddenly grew even more erect and throbbed in unison with my mounting excitement. I let out a moan of pleasure and enjoyment and Cassey took a step back to admire me. "So who's the slut now, Ms. Julia?" There was no sensible answer I could give. I looked totally debauched with ragged ruined clothes hanging off me and just to exaggerate the image Cassey cut the rest of the way down my top so the front of my upper body was totally exposed. I felt fabulous! I'm sure Cassey did too, but she wasn't finished. Kneeling in front of me, she attacked my below-the-knee skirt with her scissors, hacking the lower edge into a ragged jagged zigzag, its hanging points not even close to my knees at their longest and, in the centre at the back and the front, cut higher than the crotch of my panties. I kicked away its remnants and savoured the delicious feeling as another wave of pussy juice oozed out of my vagina to soak the thin white satin between my legs. But not for long as Cassey flourished her scissors for the final time and, after outrageously hitching up my trashed skirt, cut though my panties at either side so they fell away and landed in an aromatic crumpled heap on the floor between my feet. I was totally exposed, a bedraggled filthy slut, semi-naked in front of my invited houseguest, and horny as hell. Cassey looked me up and down and giggled as she does when she's in her bouncy, fun-loving mood. I had to see the funny side myself (I must have looked a sight) but wasn't in the mood for laughing. This was serious. Cassey stooped to reach into her bag again and this time pulled out a cute camera. She pointed it at me and began shooting. I was almost hypnotised by the repetitive flashes as she framed me and I posed and pouted, remembering the old maxim: "if you want to look good on film you have to make love to the camera". But it wasn't the camera I wanted to make love to. I pulled my bra-cups aside to totally expose my breasts and I cocked a leg up onto the bar-stool to show off my pussy. Cassey confirmed it was a digital camera so she wouldn't be taking results to the processing lab. and I wantonly paraded my body in front of the lens. Cassey moved towards me and pushed the jacket off my shoulders, shooting more images, then I slid out of the remains of my top and bra so I could show, fondle and squeeze my boobs. My nipples ached from my rough handling and the powerful excitement of the scenario, encouraging me to pull and squeeze them some more until they grew long, hard and fiery hot. Cassey took some close-ups before kneeling in front of me. Knowing exactly what she wanted, I wriggled out of my jagged skirt and parted my legs then allowed – no, encouraged – her to capture my swollen lubricating pussy for posterity. In a show of total whorish abandonment I used the fingers of one hand to pull my labial lips wide apart and the tip of my opposite index finger to pull up my clit hood so she could record the smooth pink wetness of my throbbing bulging clit. Cassey then handed the camera to me and pointed out the basic controls then performed a perfect "I'm a slut-model and I know it" show, holding perfectly still in every successive and more provocative pose. When we'd exhausted the possibilities with her multi-coloured jacket she slipped it off and displayed her smooth bare nakedness to the lens in every imaginable position and a few more besides. I attempted to record her green eyes and her striking make-up, her moist lips, the firm roundness of her small breasts, the tightness of her cute little nipples, the length of her slender legs, the towering height of her shoes, the perfect pink symmetry of her inner labial lips and the smoothness of her swelling pussy mound. Between us we must have taken over 200 pictures and we slumped, temporarily exhausted, onto the sofa. Cassey snuggled up to me, our naked bodies touching from our ankles all the way up to our upper arms. Cassey even leaned her head on my shoulder as we peered together at the camera screen and stepped through the erotic imagery we had created. Cassey looked terrific even on such a small display and I became aroused beyond self-control by her appearance, and her warm breath on my neck. My starlet of the small screen raised the erotic temperature with her comments, whispered seductively into my ear as we admired our images: "Your pussy looks so fuckable ... Ohhh your nipples are soooo big! ... Mmmmm can you see my wetness on my cunt-lips? ... Do you think my clit-hood would look good with a piercing ring though it?" "Well how about those nipples then, they'd look fabulous if you had them piereced." Inevitably we were soon locked in a passionate embrace, our hands all over each other's bodies and our tongues entwined deep inside each other's mouths. Cassey's lips were hot, wet and permanently mobile as she mouth-fucked mine until I had to come up for breath. We looked at each other for a while, waiting for someone to make the first move, then simultaneously slid onto the floor where we entwined our eager limbs and pressed our breasts and pussies together. What happened next both shocked and excited me. Not because of what Cassey did but because of the way we both reacted. Cassey slid her hand between our bodies and cupped my left breast. It felt wonderful to experience another woman touching me where only my own hands had roamed since the previous summer. But instead of savouring the sensations and encouraging her to explore further (which I knew was what I really wanted), I pushed her away from me. Cassey looked shocked, almost angry, but her expression changed when I grasped her wrists tightly and forced her back onto the floor. I pinned her down, with her shoulder-blades on the ground and her wrists held firmly on the carpet next to them. I thought she would struggle but as I leaned over her and I looked into her eyes I saw an expression that excited me immensely and told it's own story. Cassey's green eyes were wide open, staring up at me. Her mouth was open too, half smiling and half pouting. She was breathing quickly and erratically whilst small beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead and neck. Far from struggling, Cassey was obviously enjoying every moment. Her face and her body language screamed "I'm loving this, I can't believe it's really happening. You're enacting my wildest, deepest-held fantasy, one that I could never have hoped or believed would come true". In short, Cassey wanted to be controlled. Not just wanted but needed, craved and desired to be controlled. She'd sent out the unmistakable unspoken message that she was ready to submit to another woman. To be held, restricted and dominated. And it seemed I was lucky enough to be that woman. Why lucky? Because I'd also discovered, at that moment, that this was exactly what I wanted too. How did I know? By the feelings of exhilaration and arousal inside me, the rush of chemicals to my brain and the rush of juices to my pussy. I felt my exposed nipples harden like precious gems, as hard as diamonds set into the tips of my downward-pointing breasts. Although I was naked I did not feel cold. In fact I felt a hot rush of powerful energy course through me. I looked at Cassey and smiled. After a minute or two (it may have been longer) I loosened my grip on her wrists allowing her to move again. What if I'd got it all wrong? Would she sit up quickly, yell at me, slap me, cry, sulk or just dress and leave? Or maybe she would fight back and try to win the upper hand. None of these. She just lay there. I stood up, my legs either side of her waist, and I looked down at her. She did not look frightened. She looked expectant, thrilled and damn sexy too. Cassey waited obediently for my instructions. Although my pussy was on fire with desire (and Cassey would have known this from her vantage point beneath me) I knew this incident had changed everything. A few moments before it seemed likely we would have had hot passionate sex on my floor, fingers in pussies, teeth on nipples and tongues on clits. But now I needed to think fast and take control. "You dirty bitch, Cassandra!" She began to shake with pleasure. "How dare you try to touch my nipples without so much as a 'Please' or 'May I?'. This is your first time in my home and you have the audacity to think you can fuck me just because I agree to watch your filthy, slutty, so-called fashion show. Do you have anything to say?" Cassey spoke softly. "I'm so sorry ... Mistress" was all she said, and my pussy creamed another huge pulse of cunt-lube at the sound of that word. I suppressed my erotic feelings for her, knowing this was just the start of an intense relationship that could develop far beyond my wildest dreams. It was not just Cassey's fantasy that had been realised, it was mine too. I reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. She was unsteady on her high shoes and kicked them off before wrapping her arms around me and whispering in my ear "Oh Julie, I'm so happy." She was shivering so I helped her into her leather jacket and sat her down on the sofa whilst I made us both hot drinks. When I came back into the room she'd dressed in her jeans and had her jacket zipped up as far as her belly button. I could no longer see her dangly navel adornment nor her nipples but her wide unclothed cleavage was still on show. Her g-string and top lay discarded on the floor and she'd collected up the remains of my desecrated business outfit into a pile of shredded rags. "Sorry about the clothes, Julie," she said, and we both burst into releasing fits of laughter. Tears of joy ran down our cheeks as we began to talk about how we felt but agreed there were many dark doors in our lives that still remained to be opened. We would open these carefully one at a time and see where they led. One of the first of Cassey's would lead to the erotic fashions store on the other side of town where we arranged to meet on the following Friday so we could buy Cassey an outfit to 'play' in. We also agreed that whenever we were in private Cassey would address me only as Mistress Julia. I liked the sound of that. "Goodnight, and thanks for everything, Mistress Julia," she purred as I walked her to her car. "Take care" I replied, rather out of character for my new alter-persona but just a little worried about her driving home wearing nothing at all under her jeans and jacket, "see you Friday." As I closed my front door I stood with my back to the wall and shuddered as I absorbed the reality of what had just happened. The next few days couldn't pass quickly enough. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Please leave comments and/or send me some feedback; I'll forward your messages on to Cassey, she'd like that very much. Should we write another chapter? xxx Julia Controlling Cassandra Ch 02 You should read Chapter 1 of Controlling Cassandra first to understand the context. This is a personal collaboration between on-line friends. ***************************************** In the weeks following my 'incident' with Cassandra when she ripped my clothes to shreds I continually did 2 things with alarming frequency. Firstly, I visited the place where she worked so I could see her and chat to her wherever she was in the store, talking about what happened, about clothes, relationships, music and anything that would hold her attention. I also fantasised about her often, whilst frigging my craving pussy and oozing enormous volumes of juice all over my hand, my panties, my bed, my furniture and my car seat. Messy but also very enjoyable. Eventually our strong but different personalities found some common ground and we agreed to go shopping for something special for Cassey to wear. As a result I found myself waiting outside the store where she worked, impatiently drumming on the steering wheel and willing her Saturday afternoon shift to finish. Finally she strode into view, her slim figure unmistakable, her long legs balanced on very high shoes then continuing seemingly forever upwards until they disappeared under the ultra-high hem of her tiny scarlet pleated lo-rise skirt. I doubt it was more than 25 cm deep, barely covering her cute ass-cheeks and stopping well below her pelvic bone such that her pubic hair would have been clearly visible, except that she doesn't have any. Ever. Her entire midriff was totally naked. Except that is for a large ornate dangling sparkling and bejewelled decoration attached to the piercing above her immaculate navel, that was easily 8 cm long. By the time she leaned down to open my car door my eyes had travelled up as far as the outward curve of her small exquisite boobs. They were tantalisingly and barely hidden by an almost-sheer white top that billowed voluminously over and along her arms yet was cut tight and narrow across her upper back like a shrug. It was pulled together and knotted at the front so that her small fleshy mounds could be easily envisaged (if not actually seen) as she bent forward, twisted and flopped into the seat beside me. "Hi Julie my sweet" she bubbled before planting a long soft kiss on my right cheek yet squeezing my hand very tight, betraying a nervous anticipation simmering below her lively exterior. She looked, felt and smelled gorgeous. She'd obviously freshened up after her shift and more importantly, had found time to apply one of her more ambitious and artistic make-up designs. It exploded in an asymmetric multitude of colours all the way from her left cheek-bone, across the bridge of her gorgeous nose, over and under her right eye all the way to her hair-line above her temple. Fabulous! I kissed her in return and simultaneously started both the engine and a stream of meaningless, irrelevant small-talk. We drove into the city to a wonderful shop I had recently discovered that I was sure Cassandra would enjoy as it stocked a wide range of the special garment we had agreed I should buy for her. The garment in question was a corset and the shop in question was called "Strictly Forbidden". I parked the car around the corner and as we had agreed, we pretended not to know each other. Cassey stepped out and strode towards the shop whilst I waited the pre-arranged 10 seconds before following at a discreet distance. I saw my 'stranger' hesitate at the door - I thought she might not go through with our plan – but no, she pushed the large door and stepped inside the 'Strictly Forbidden' store. When I entered I saw she was already thumbing through the sexy-but-safe lingerie just inside the door. They certainly stock some beautiful stuff and were one of the first Canadian stores to import the luxury Passionella range from England. I moved down the store to the rear to feign interest in the much more risqué 'playwear' and restraints, including latex clothing, cuffs and spreader bars. I smiled when I saw the small half-hidden door marked 'Storeroom – No Entry' with a smaller notice underneath that read 'Customers must be accompanied at all times by a member of staff'. A member of that staff had now begun talking to Cassey and I moved closer to overhear the conversation: "What I really came in here to look at was a corset but I'm really not sure what I'm looking for," my friend explained. The assistant led her luscious and scantily-clad prospective customer over to a bewildering display of restrictive garments in black, white and many luxurious colours that erupted into a mass of lace, straps, ribbons, eyelets and buckles. The assistant made many proposals, holding up corsets, basques and clinchers against her own body and Cassey's but my accomplice rejected every suggestion with ever more implausible objections. "This might suit you," I suggested, walking over to them and taking down a particularly extreme-looking corset from the rail. It was black, with stiff boning up the front, sides and back, with at least a half a dozen leather straps and buckles down the front and eyelet lacing all the way up the back. "Er, oh ... thanks, erm, well ..." Cassey mumbled, acting surprised that a total stranger should proffer such advice. "No, really," I protested, "I'd love to be able to wear one of these but I'm a little too rounded these days to pull it off. But you my dear are so, mmmm, slim." Cassey looked at the assistant for reinforcement. She smiled and nodded, embarrassed that she had not mentioned it first. Then she scowled at me from under her dark heavy eyebrows and long black fringe. "Try it by all means, but that one will be far too small, even for you. Here, try the next size up." "Oh, no, I'm sure she'll be able to squeeze into it," I protested, grabbed Cassey's hand and almost pushed her into the changing room. Miss Severe Hairstyle tried to follow her in whilst blocking my path. "Sorry, but only one customer is allowed in the changing room at ..." "I'm not a customer, I'm just browsing" I countered sarcastically and forced my way past, slamming and locking the door behind us leaving the Strictly Forbidden employee helplessly protesting outside. Cassey was breathing quickly. She grabbed me in a full embrace and kissed me wetly, full on the lips, revelling in the excitement and the privacy. She untied the knotted sheer fabric between her boobs and shrugged off her top. To my disappointment she had flesh-coloured pasties over her nipples; at least this explained why they had not been visible though her sheer top - I'd been wondering why Cassey had not been finding our escapade more obviously arousing. "I don't need them now, you can take them off if you'd like ..." Cassey purred. I needed no further encouragement and carefully peeled them off, revealing a pair of small but deliciously fiery and erect nipples that just begged to be nibbled and sucked. I restrained myself, but only just. Cassey then turned her back to me so I could unzip her diminutive skirt. It fell to the floor and I gasped: "You dirty, slutty bitch!" as I realised Cassey was not wearing any panties under her ultra-short skirt. "What would you have done if you'd dropped something in the street and had to bend down to pick it up?" Cassey just smiled wryly, confirming the exhibitionist streak in her character that I was growing to love. I wrapped the corset around her now-naked torso. Indeed, the store assistant was right. It was very narrow, but the struggle would be part of the fun. I fully loosened the buckle straps and re-threaded the lacing though all the eyelets the way I'd always found best; one long lace beginning at the top and criss-crossing down as far as the waist and another starting at the bottom and laced up to meet it. I secured the buckle straps then began to pull on the lacing. Slowly I drew the sides together and Cassey helped me by breathing in and tightening her tummy muscles. The more I laced and pulled the shallower her breathing became. The more I laced and pulled the more I could smell the sweet heady aroma of Cassey's pussy. And the more I laced and pulled the more my own pussy twitched and flooded. "Oh, oh ... oh shit." Cassey whispered, as I pulled in her waist, smaller than it had measured for years. The corset cupped and supported the lower curve of Cassey's breast but stopped just below her nipples so, the more I laced the more her small boobs were squeezed upwards and forwards. "Mmm, I like the way this makes my tits look bigger" she enthused. I liked the way her nipples protruded, as if reaching out to touch the cold glass of the mirror in front of her. Narrowing, hour-glass fashion, to her much-constricted waist then widening again over her hips, Cassey's new corset finished a little above her smooth, bare pussy mound. One more systematic tightening of the lacing, from top to waist then from bottom upwards, had Cassey mesmerised as she watched her reflection to see a couple more centimetres of her body gradually disappearing before her very eyes. She smiled another wry, satisfied smile and turned side-on. She tried to bend down but of course realised she could now only bend from the hips, not at the waist, Towering over me on her high heels, she put her hands on her hips and leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. "Fabulous, Julie, just fabulous," she enthused. I knew she'd like the feeling. I wasn't sure if she'd like what I did next. I knelt in front of her, reached around her torso and took hold of the free ends of the upper lace, bringing them around to the front of her narrowed waist and tying them together where her navel would have been. (I'd pulled her corset so tight that I had plenty of free length!). Next I touched the insides of Cassey's knees to signal 'part your legs', but hadn't anticipated the dramatic effect this would have on her. She was so tense and excited that she jumped violently, wobbling on her heels. She grabbed my head to steady herself and (accidentally?) pushed my face hard against her pussy. The aroma was intoxicating and my mouth became moist with her copious juices. I looked up at her and she down at me for what seemed like forever, our eyes burning with desire, and I licked my lips. I quickly resumed my task, reaching between Cassey's legs to pull the other pair of long lace-ends down her ass, between her upper thighs and back up over her pussy then tying them in bow-knots to the pair leading down from her embellished navel. Cassey obligingly parted her knees wider, now fully aware of my intentions, and inevitably the laces worked their way between her ass-cheeks and into the gash of her pussy. I pulled tighter so they all but disappeared into the wet pink softness of her cunt and Cassey squealed, then let out a long slow wavering breath as I finally knotted the laces, deliberately trapping her clit-hood and her inner labial lips between the two invasive cords. I stood up and admired my handiwork. At a casual glance it might appear that she was wearing an exceptionally skimpy string bikini-bottom. Anyone looking down from a standing position would be unaware of Cassey's parted pussy-lips and her trapped, tormented clit. But Cassey was. She rolled her eyes, let out a long wavering sigh and began to rock and gyrate her pelvis to accentuate the effect of the laces. I moved closer to her, but we were both startled by a loud knock on the door. "Ladies, come out at once. I have other customers waiting to use that change room!" Ms. Severe Hairstyle was getting impatient. "Come on sweetie, we need to find you something more for you to wear!" I insisted, unlocked the door and ushered my tall and very slender plaything out onto the retail floor. Cassey took a few uncertain steps out into the shop, gasped, shuddered then leaned towards me and whispered in my ear. "Shit, Julie, I can't walk like this! You knew this would happen, you bitch. Every time I take a step the lacing rubs my pussy more and squeezes my clit. Do I have to ..." "You're mine now and you do as I say," I retorted, delighting in the shocked expression on Cassey's face. "Don't question my instructions again, Cassandra. Oh, and I'd be obliged if you call me 'Mistress Julia' ". Carefully placing one stilettoed foot in front of the other, Cassey stepped out into the bright focussed lights of the shop sales-floor. Ms. Trying-to-be-bossy-but-weak-in-character hustled us along but I walked slowly and deliberately behind my pinch-waisted Cassey, whispering instructions: 'Walk slowly, look straight ahead, ignore her, turn left, over towards the skirts, shit your ass looks so good from here ...' upon which my sweet corset-slut wiggled her bum cheeks and rotated her pelvis seductively as she made her way over to the display of leather and rubber clothing that I had indicated. We must been in that dressing room for at least 15 minutes and now there were several other customers in the store. Cassey was drawing admiring glances and incredulous stares, due no doubt to her erect nipples, her breathtakingly-tight corset, her peach-smooth pussy mound and maybe her striking make-up, but mostly due to the fact that she's just so fucking gorgeous. Ms. insignificant-sales-minion busied herself helping a fat and unattractive woman with a cheaply-cut hairstyle, whilst I encouraged Cassey to browse though the narrow hobble-skirts. She picked one that was very long and fashioned exquisitely from oh-so-soft black supple hide that exuded the intoxicating smell of raw animal. She held it up to her hips for my approval and I nodded as I admired the ultra-lo-rise waist, the slender shape leading down into a wide flare-out from just below her knees to her mid-calf. Continuing to browse the store, Cassey stopped at the display of leg-wear, running her free hand over the sumptuous range of stockings made from the sheerest nylon (seams up the back of course) though to skin-hugging latex in various evocative colours and even soft supple leather with corset-style lacing right up the sides. Cassey selected a pair of purple fish-net stockings with the largest holes you could imagine, glancing towards me again for my approval. I loved the look of them and my pussy twitched repeatedly as I imagined how they would stretch when pulled over Cassey's slender legs, and how her soft flesh would bulge ever-so-slightly though the huge 5 centimetre diamond-shapes holes. But I shook my head disapprovingly to provoke a reaction. Immediately my submissive Miss Cassandra fell to her knees in front of me and begged me to buy them for her, promising to rub her legs against mine if only I'd let her wear them when we got home. "Oh Cassandra, you will need to promise much more than that!" I replied with a smile. "Put them on and let me see if I like them," I continued, keeping control of our unfolding tableau. Of course I would like them, and would want, desire, no –NEED - to hook my fingers though their lattice-web matrix of tight cord strands to caress Casseys barely-concealed skin. Mmmmm, my pussy was pumping juices inside my silk panties and I could feel my nipples grow even more hard and erect under my matching silk bra-cups. Cassey stood up and made for the change room but I had other ideas: "No, put them on here." Cassey looked uncertain but I insisted. She kicked off her shoes and, putting a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, slid on first one stocking then the other. The spectacle was at least as revealing and alluring as I had planned, drawing more ardent admiration from the voyeur-shoppers as my companion lifted each leg in turn. She could not help but expose her pussy-slit, sliced though by the laces of her corset and gaping wide as her pink wetness shone under the bright display lighting. Cassey gradually worked the purple netting up her thighs until they reached just below her oh-so-bare pussy, their criss-cross design beautifully augmenting the laces that were now buried deep within her obviously swollen and engorged cunt-lips. Yes, they did look wonderful on her, their stay-up tops fashioned like bondage restraints with small steel buckles. Without further prompting Cassey took the narrow skirt from me and stepped into it, wiggling her hips and pulling the soft hide up over her long stockinged legs until her bare mound (only just) disappeared below the low top of the garment. I dragged the long side zipper up her left hip and Cassey sighed as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. "Oh Mistress, it's wonderful. May I have it?" she pleaded. I smiled at her pleasing submissivity and feasted my eyes on the narrow band of soft bare flesh provocatively exposed between the top of the skirt and the bottom of her corset. Cassey turned her back to me to confirm that, as I hoped and expected, the start of her ass-crack just peeped over the top of the black leather skirt and she obligingly bent forward to exaggerate the effect. I slapped her bum in mock chastisement and Cassey squealed and giggled with pleasure. Ohhh, how the delicious sound of my palm on taught hide resounded in my ears! "Over here, bitch!" I called to Ms. Menial Servant. She scowled at me. I put one hand firmly on my hip and beckoned her slowly and repeatedly before pointing at the floor in front of my darling Cassandra. She walked over to us, her expression a model of disgruntled reticence. "Help her with her shoes!" I commanded. "Why can't you help her to ..." "Fuck you, miss. Do the job you're paid to do. You're here to serve, right?" I felt like spanking her too, right there in the store. Ms. Unimportant Assistant knelt before us and held first one then the other stiletto shoe so Cassey could slide a slender foot into each. "Now kiss them," I continued authoritatively. She looked up from her low, disadvantageous position, unable to protest. She bent her head and kissed one toe then the other. "Perfect, we'll take the corset and the skirt, and the stockings of course." Cassey smiled and hugged me. Ms. Good-For-Nothing scrambled to her feet and strode indignantly to the till whilst Cassey gestured again to the change-room, seeking my permission to undress and change back into her 'day' clothes. But I had another plan. "No! Keep them on." Cassey's eyes widened in both fear and excitement in equal measure. I paid the bill and took Cassandra's hand leading her out into the cooler evening air, which immediately caused her nipples to visibly pucker into rock-hard distended buds. She looked sexy yet vulnerable, her restricting corset and tight skirt causing her to walk upright and stiffly, only able to take very small steps. I kept a discreet distance behind her as she made her tentative way back to my car so I could admire her form and soak up the reactions of the passers-by on the sidewalk. My pussy was aching with desire, accentuated by the certain knowledge that, from now, the erotically dressed and emotionally controlled young woman in front of me was exclusively, willingly, obediently and totally mine. I slipped a hand over my left breasts and squeezed it hard, moaning with pleasure and expectation. Cassey was obviously in no hurry and took care to pose provocatively for the street voyeurs who stopped to look her up and down, yet nonchalantly waving away the kerb-crawlers who mistook her for a hooker. I wondered momentarily what price she could have commanded, not that she would have been in the least bit interested in any man. How could she keep her cool when I knew she was so turned-on? No doubt she would have wanted to stride quickly to exaggerate the effect of the tight laces against her clit, but her tight skirt denied her that pleasure as she hobbled and wobbled precariously on her high heels. Instead she had to endure the ordeal of a slow steady stimulation that, without doubt, was keeping her aroused but tantalising below the threshold where she might possible climax in public. Unless, that is, the attention from her audience alone could excite her enough for her to reach orgasm. Controlling Cassandra Ch 02 For a moment I wondered how she would be able to get into the car and if she could bend sufficiently to sit in the seat. Then I realised that this might be purely academic as my true desire was to push her against a wall and fuck her right there in the street. Maybe Cassey had the same idea. When we reached my car she did not so much as pause, walking past with just a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure I was following close behind. Her steps grew more self-assured, as though she now knew exactly where she was going. I quickened my pace to catch up with her, taking her hand and squeezing it tight so that everyone knew we were together. Cassey dutifully positioned herself just a fraction behind me so it was obvious I was in control and leading her, although I did not yet know where we were going. I thought I might have guessed, even though my local knowledge was poor, and the prospect excited me more than I dared to admit. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Please leave comments and/or send me some feedback; I'll forward your messages on to Cassey, she'd like that very much. xxx Julia