The Experiment Ch. 01-02

. She stood up and stepped out of her shoes, then unfastened her skirt, unzipped it and let it fall down her legs. She picked up the skirt and folded it too, then laid it neatly on top of her blouse.

He's paying you to do this, she told herself. It's not like you care what he thinks. It's just a job.

She was wearing no stockings, no slip, nothing on her legs. She adjusted the straps of her bra and stood up straight to face him. But standing straight made her feel as if she were thrusting her breasts out, so she tried to relax slightly. She could not quite find the proper balance though. It was as if she suddenly didn't know how to stand up straight.

She faced him wearing only the bra and her panties. She was not about to let him make her feel embarrassed or self-consciousness, so she tried to appear as natural as she could, willing herself to be calm. The air in the room was warm and comfortable, and she did not feel the least bit cold. But she felt her nipples begin to stiffen inside her bra, and goose bumps ran down her back.

She stood facing him, her face controlled. She thought that perhaps this was enough, that perhaps when he had said "clothes" all he had meant was her outerwear.

"All of your clothes, Miss Alexander." he said. "Your underthings as well."

She was not surprised. She was ready for that.

She reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and let it slide down her arms, catching it before it hit the floor. Her ample breasts tumbled free, and she felt the warm air on them. She smelled a sudden burst of her perfume from where she always daubed it on the warmth of her breasts. She hoped he wouldn't notice her turgid nipples.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, stared at him boldly, as if she could see him, and pulled them down, bending over to get them over the fullness of her thighs. She let them drop down her legs, then bent down, keeping her knees carefully together, and retrieved the wispy garment, folded it, and laid it atop the pile of her clothes.

Her nakedness felt like some sort of moral victory, and she straightened up again, purposely thrusting her breasts forward and spreading her legs slightly to make sure he saw everything. She had been naked with men many times, but she realized now that she had never displayed herself to anyone like this before; never stood totally unclothed before another person's critical gaze, and the emotions it set off were complex and confusing. She was both embarrassed and strangely proud.

And she was not without some tricks of her own. When she grew uneasy just standing there, she raised her hands and combed them through her hair,which raised her breasts invitingly, then shook her head to make her hair fall free, and in so doing, making her lush breasts shake enticingly on her chest.

She stood proudly in front of him, letting him see that she wasn't afraid, wasn't ashamed. She stared boldly and defiantly into the darkness over the desk and said, "Would you like me to turn around? Would you like to see my ass too?"

"As you wish." he said softly.

Zoe turned around and let him see her high, round ass, which was one of her points of particular pride, invitingly firm and tempting. She looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Well? Am I worth it?" she asked. "Do you like what you see? Are you getting your rocks off looking at a naked lady?"

He didn't say anything for a while, and Zoe wondered if he were masturbating or playing with himself. But she saw that his hands were still on the desk.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Miss Alexander." he said finally. "Very beautiful. And I mean that quite sincerely."

She knew very well that she was beautiful; she'd been told so many times, But the honest appreciation in his voice, devoid of any hint of salacious lust or desire, moved her somehow, and she almost felt bad for mocking him. Poor old rich man. Maybe she was teasing him too much.

"Thank you." she said softly.

He sighed deeply. "The money's yours."

She realized that to go and take the money off the desk now would make her look cheap, as if she didn't trust him. Worse, it would make it seem that she had taken her clothes off only for the money. that she really was some sort of whore. That might be true, but she didn't want to call attention to the fact. She saw now that it was the money that changed everything.

Zoe sat down in the chair, as naturally as she could while keeping her knees discretely together. The leather was warm and very supple against her skin, almost like another body. She felt very vulnerable sitting naked like this, and her vulnerability was strangely arousing to her.

She cleared a strand of hair from her eyes and said, "You know, if you'd just approached me as a regular person, as a man , and asked me out or shown some respect… Well, you might have gotten your peek for free. Or at least a lot less money," she added with a slight smile.

Now she heard him laugh, a warm and open laugh.

"Oh, you think so?" he asked.

Zoe shrugged. "I'm not ashamed of my body. I enjoy being looked at, actually. I just don't like being told what to do. I don't like being made to feel like a whore, like I can be bought and sold."

"I see."

She remembered now there had been a time when what she had just said had been true, that she had liked to show her body. She had enjoyed it when men looked at her, desired her. She had known just how to use clothes and accessories to show what she wanted to show, to keep them looking.

But all that had changed after her break-up, when she had decided that her beauty was a liability, attracting the wrong kind of men and frightening off the good ones..

Now, without any clothes on, she was a bit non-plussed. She didn't quite know what to do with herself, how to sit, what to do with her hands. One thing was certain, she was determined that she wouldn't appear to be the least bit self-conscious or embarrassed, no matter how she might actually feel.

She crossed her legs, one knee over the other, and sat up straight, showing her breasts, and it occurred to her that being naked and defenseless like this gave her a certain moral advantage. After all, she was merely unclothed. Unclothed, but natural, while he was the one stricken by salacious urges and lusts. He was the one who was paying her.

"Are you so very bad looking that you have to pay women to undress in front of you?" she asked him boldly. "Or are you embarrassed by the sight of a naked woman?"

"No, I think, on both counts." he said

"Then why don't you show yourself? I'd like to have a look at you. I mean, fair's fair. I've certainly shown you enough."

He said nothing for a time, but she feel him sitting in the shadows looking at her, and she began to grow uneasy.

"Do you just like looking? Is that it?"

Again there was no answer. She could see his hands still on the desk, relaxed, unmoving. The ten fifties were still there too.

"I mean," she said, "it's not my thing, but I know some men are into that."

Silence. He didn't move. She couldn't imagine what he was up to, sitting stock still like that. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"Maybe you'd like to see more?" she asked. He didn't answer and she added, "Free of charge?" It was a joke, but he didn't laugh.

The silence was truly unnerving now. She could feel his eyes upon her naked body, but she didn't know what he was doing. She sensed that he wasn't looking at her with lust or desire, the way men usually looked at her. He seemed to be looking at some part of her that she herself was unfamiliar with, seeing something she didn't know existed. It made her very uneasy.

"Here." she said. "Is this what you want?"

She opened her knees slightly, and slouched down in her seat, giving him a perfect view of what she'd been hiding. "Do you want to see my vagina? It won't bite."

She put her hands down in her crotch and pulled her labia open for him to see. A thrill of dangerous pleasure shot through her as she exposed herself so lewdly. She knew she shouldn't be doing this—he'd said no sex--but she didn't know what else to do, and he seemed to be waiting for her to do something.

"Do you want to touch?" she asked the darkness. She began to stroke herself, running her fingers up and down her slit, watching the shadows. The hands on the desk didn't move. "I don't mind if you want to touch me." she said. "I like to be touched."

At last he spoke. "Touch yourself." he said.

It was such a relief to finally get a response, to have him break his oppressive silence that she almost smiled. She understood him now. She began to stroke herself harder, pleased to be on familiar ground once more. He was a man after all, and men were such predictable creatures. She knew what he wanted.

"Ohhh," she sighed, closing her eyes. She made no attempt to hide her pleasure, knowing that this was what he wanted to see. And in fact, her fingers did feel unusually good on her flesh. She was surprisingly aroused.

"Do you touch yourself like this often?" he asked softly.

"Yes." she sighed. "Sometimes. It just feels so good."

Feeling suddenly defensive, she looked at him. "Everyone does it." she said. "Not just men. Women do it too. Everyone does it. You do it too," she challenged. "Don't you?"

He didn't answer.

She didn't like him ignoring her. She didn't like the way he was playing with her, making her feel like she was alone when she knew he was there in the shadows staring at her. But she could play with him as well. She would get to him; she would show him. If he wanted to see smut, she would show him smut.

She raised her left leg and hung it over the arm of the chair, opening herself up wider. She was no longer stroking herself softly. She was aroused now and she wanted more stimulation. The movement of her hand was more impatient, insistent, harder. Her fingers vibrated against her clitoris, and her other hand moved up to her chest where she took her breast in her hand and began to stroke it. She wanted to show him how she played with herself, how she gave herself private pleasure.

"You like watching me do this, don't you?" she asked, a smoky look in her eyes. "You like watching me rub myself . You're sitting there hard, getting off on me, aren't you? You can't keep your eyes off my pussy, can you, you son of a bitch? Are you beating off now? Are you pulling your dick? You sick bastard. You pervert! Can't you talk? Can't you say anything?"

"Yes." he said softly.

"Ohhh!" the cry of pleasure burst unexpectedly from her mouth as a sudden thrill sparked inside her, a lewd and dirty thrill that came from being watched like this, watched as she exposed not only her body, but her secret desires.

"Oh yes! Watch me! Watch me, you bastard! Your big cock is going to come too, isn't it? You'd love to shove your dick into me, wouldn't you? Fuck my little pussy, fuck me with your big cock!"

Her hand was moving faster now, sending spears ofpleasure through her. Her body heaved in the chair as she panted loudly, her hips rocking. She had been exaggerating what she felt for his amusemenet, but she had fooled herself too, and now her excitement was running out of control.

Occasionally an especially keen bolt of pleasure would make her body jerk and bring a cry from her lips and she would have to leave off masturbating. Sometimes she would stop and spank her clit with a sharp little blow, as if it were a naughty little pet that had nipped at her. Her other hand stroked rhythmically at her breast, sliding around the ripe hardness to her nipple, which she took between her fingers and twisted, or dug her long red nails into to cause herself delicious pain.

Her eyes were closed, her hips and thighs trembling as she brought herself to the peak of pleasure.

"Oh God!" she moaned. "You motherfucker! I'm going to come! I'm going to come! Please let me come! Please tell me I can come!"

"Come, then." he said softly.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh, fuck meeee!" her voice ran from a breathless whine to a full throated shriek as she convulsed in orgasm, twitching and thrashing in the chair. She shoved two fingers into her vagina and felt her empty sheath spasm hungrily around them as her eyes rolled up into her head in a delicious, full-body orgasm that hit her with jolt after jolt of shattering release. The intensity of her climax took her completely by surprise and her convulsions were so intense that she felt her juices flood out around her fingers and run down her hand, and the nails of her other hand made deep marks in her tortured nipple.

All she could think of was her own nakedness and the man sitting there, calmly and intently watching her make a shameless slut out of herself. The image filled her with lewd and bitter pleasure.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh fuck yes!" she whined, feeling the throbbing ecstasy fade with each dwindling spasm of her star-ripped body. Slowly all her wire-taut muscles relaxed, her limbs began trembling as she continued to reverberate like a great bell with the echoes of her orgasm.

Slowly she returned to reality. This strange reality. She saw her clothes folded on the table, the desk, the cone of light, the hands lying calmly in the lamplight.

"Are you all right now?" he asked softly.

She could tell from his tone that he had not orgasmed. Whatever she had thought he was doing, he hadn't shared her climax; she had come alone with him watching her.

Zoe was still gasping for breath. "Yes." she said, deeply ashamed and confused.

"I'll have Miss Liu bring you some warm towels." he said.

"No. No, that's all right. I'm fine." she said, awkwardly trying to move her legs.

"As you wish." he said.

He said nothing more for a minute, then she heard him stand up and go to the same door by which he'd come in.

He stopped. "That was excellent, Miss Alexander. An excellent first session. I'll look for you in three days, same time?"

Before she could say anything she saw the door open and he stood there for a moment, in silhouette, a shadow regarding her.

"Don't forget your money." he said, and was gone.