Chapter 7: A promotion

Monday, she took her time going in to the office. She put on the same high-heeled boots. She put on some skin-tight black stretch Levis that fit like a glove. She didn't put on a bra. She figured that if Sam was going to insist that she be braless, she wouldn't have to take off the blouse again. She put on a purple silk long sleeve blouse that buttoned down the front. The buttoned down blouses seemed more conservative than the scooped neck spaghetti strap blouses that most of the young women wore now. Never the less, the snug-fitting sheer blouse left nothing to the imagination. She put on a sequined black bolero jacket over it.

When she got to work, something strange was going on to the front glass of their offices. A couple of painters had some scaffolding up and they were applying a gold-leaf sign that said "Jenkins & Cromwell Marketing." Sam thought that if she was perceived as an equal partner, her escorting duties would have much more prestige than if she was seen as the office secretary. She wasn't going to get any more money, but she knew that there were some long-range plans to keep her around. That was good and bad news. It was nice to have a more secure financial situation, but now the price to her and her marriage was staggering.

When she went in, the secretary's desk was still facing the front door, but Sam's huge private office now had two big glass tables facing the front. The setting was impressive.

The Mies Van Der Rohe chairs had several packages in a Prada bag. She looked inside. There were a number of silk dresses like the one that was ruined at Sam's party. They were of different lengths and colors, but mostly dark.

Sam said "Don't sit down yet, we still have more work to do." He escorted her out, and locked the door. She walked over to the passenger door of his Porsche. Sam threw her the keys, and threw the packages in the back. He was making her drive the Porsche. They took the Targa top off again and put it in the back. Sam unbuttoned part of her blouse again, down even with the middle of her breasts. He helped her with the 5-point hitch safety belt.

She took off hesitantly, because the throttle was much more sensitive than her old Chevy. Going down the street again, the seat belt did more to keep the billowing blouse open than keeping it shut. Her nipples sparkled in the morning sunlight. Her dark glasses helped to hide her embarrassment and gave her some anonymity.

He directed her back to the tattoo parlor. "Oh, God," she thought. What's going to happen now? When they pulled into the lot, there were several knuckleheads, a couple panheads, and a hardtail in the lot. There were several huge men outside smoking who pretty much looked just like the owner of the parlor.

When Jenny and Sam went in, the men put out their cigarettes and followed them in. The reception area was small, but they all crowded in and surrounded Jenny.

Sam asked the owner what his name was. "Clint," said the big tattooed man. "Clint, the piercings you did a few days ago were great. I am here to see if you have any other ideas to do with Jenny."

Clint led her back into the room with the Gynecology table, which was mounted to the top of a 12-inch high wooden platform. It kind of looked like a stage with the Ob-Gyn chair the center of attention on this small stage.

Since she had jeans on, he lifted her up to the top of the platform the chair was bolted to. Silently, he rolled his fingers, indicating he wanted her to take off the jeans. Jenny started to tear up again, as she slowly undid the belt and jeans buttons. She slowly wiggled her jeans down and stepped out of them. Clint pulled out his razor to slit the sides of her panties and they dropped to the floor.

Clint lifted her up into the Ob-Gyn chair and put her feet in the stirrups. He laid the back and head-rest down to about a 45° angle so she could still see what was going on. He pulled up a chair and took a close look at her, like a doctor about to deliver a baby. Sam gave him the keys to the padlocks, and he took them out. He peeled back the folds, to see how everything had healed. Jenny was mortified at her exposure, feeling like a hunk of meat.

"I think I am going to need some outside consultants for this," he said as he walked out of the room. Soon he came back with the other bikers who had been in the waiting room. Jenny bolted upright and pulled the shirttails of her blouse down between her legs as she jumped out of the stirrups and tried to curl up. She now had her head down in her lap, trying to cover up.

One man got on each side of her, and stretched her back against the seat. They each grabbed one leg and stuck them in the stirrups. "Do we need to duct tape you down?" Sam asked. She turned her head to one side and was silent.

Clint looked at her for a while as if deep in thought. He took her silk blouse, unbuttoned it, and spread the shirttails so he could get a better picture of the whole situation. Jenny crossed her hands over her tummy just below her belly button, and started to tremble.

The men gathered and whispered. Finally Clint came back. He went through the same sterilization and nerve deadening exercise he had done a couple of days before. Jenny was embarrassed and in fear of the pain she was planning to go through. One man on each side grabbed one of her hands to help her withstand the pain of the needle. She grabbed the two men's arms looking for any kind of emotional support she could get.

The men adjusted her chair farther back. She tipped her head as far back as she could, anticipating the pain that was to come with the needle.

The two men on each side of her unbuckled their belts and unzipped their jeans. They took her hands and transferred them to their veined throbbing shafts. Jenny was so overcome with shame and humiliation that all this did was transfer her focus to their shafts. She closed her eyes and started to use the back of her hands and fingers to lightly stimulate their penises. They got closer. She continued to fondle the one in her left hand.

Her closed eyes were turned towards the penis on her right. She turned her head straight up, but back. He took the huge penis and began rubbing it against her nipples, her throat, and the side of her face. She was trying to put off the blowjob as long as possible. The man on her right told her to open her mouth. She opened her eyes to look at him. She pleaded with him to not make her do it.

"Open your mouth and catch it on your tongue," he said. She was sobbing now, but with so many holding her down, there was nothing she could do. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, flat, as far as she could. He shifted his grip on her hand, guiding her thumb and forefinger to get a hold of the foreskin on the bottom of shaft. He made her pull on it and pinch it. She knew it was coming, but it missed most of her mouth, getting semen all over her eyes, nose, neck, and breasts like a loose fire hose.

They let her legs down. The piercings were done, and the pain at her labia was over. Hands reached out with washcloths, and cleaned her up. They straightened up the chair back so she could see what Clint was doing.

When Clint was done he now had four piercings on each side of her labia. He went over to his counter, and came back with a fine gold chain. He threaded it through the piercings, from the top down, like shoe laces. The ends hung down at the bottom. He screwed some fine loops into the inserts at the bottom of the chain. He then placed the smallest gold padlock across and through the ends of the gold chain. The top of the padlock hung snugly against the folds of her labia.

In effect, he had created a chastity belt from the lower half of her labia to the back end of it. When she stood up, the padlock swung free at the end of the chain. Sam was delighted. Jenny was horrified. She was helped up to her feet by several of the bike riders.

As Sam gave Clint his credit card to pay for everything, all the bikers asked for his business card. He gave all of them Jenny's card, put one on the bulletin board along with all the others, and Clint put a handful in a small glass on the reception counter.

She was so embarrassed; she didn't have the energy or modesty to cover up. Clint went over to the lingerie section and picked out some panties for her. They were not really a thong. They had a full back panel that covered her butt. The waist went up almost level with her belly button, above her hip bone. The leg cutouts were high; almost to the waistband. The front and back panels were joined with clips. Clint crinkled up the front panel and delicately threaded it up through the gold chain "shoelaces" so that her labia were covered, but the chains showed on the outside. The front and back panels were joined with the clasps.

The men all nodded their approval. Sam knew she would be tender, so he went out to the Porsche and got her a dress to wear. He picked out a very short, black silk skirt with buttons down the front. He put the jeans in the box, and helped her out, as she walked gingerly to the car.

Sam put her in the driver's seat and helped her buckle the 5-pont hitch. With her tender labia, she almost had no buttons in place past her crotch. The unbuttoning of her dress was necessary for a number of reasons. The top half of her blouse was open to her nipples out of pure meanness on Sam's part. Operating the clutch with the seat belt between her legs was torture. Her pink nipples were both exposed because the seat belt held her blouse open. With one hand on the steering wheel, and one on the shift lever, she could not cover anything. The gold chain could be seen below the 5-pont hitch, and shined like a jewel.