"Sorry I'm late," Ginger said, sounding sincerely apologetic.
The door swung closed behind her with a thud and a click, which somehow seemed dreadfully ominous to Lynn.
"I did some shopping. How do you like my new outfit?"
Ginger took a few steps and turned left and right, looking for all the world like a runway model. Lynn was shocked at what Ginger had on, the sexiest outfit she had ever seen on campus, very much like what her mom liked to wear.
It was a pair of black pants and a matching sleeveless, V-neck top, made from some kind of shiny, jersey knit. The pants were what grabbed her attention, skin tight down to the knees, then flowing out in loose folds around her ankles. As Ginger moved about the pant legs swirled about wildly, fluid and slinky.
Lynn was overcome by a powerful deja vu experience. The outfit somehow connected to the nightgown she was wearing in the fantasy she had just been having. She felt the instant she saw it that perhaps it would feel as delicious to wear as her imaginary gown, and yearned to be able to wear the same thing.
Just then Ginger stopped her prancing show and said, "It feels incredibly good to wear! I've never felt anything quite like it."
Lynn had to fight to retain any self control. She tried desperately to look interested without staring.
"Well," said Ginger, "let's continue, shall we? Take off your sweater and stand about three feet from that wall. That's good, now face the wall. Raise your hands over your head. Higher."
"My God," Lynn thought to herself, "all we need is some rope and I'll be back in my own fantasy!"
"Now, fall forward and catch yourself on the wall. Right. Move your feet back a little more, and further apart. More. That's good. Now, don't move your hands and feet until I say you can."
Lynn was almost sad that there was no rope, but was pleasantly surprised as the last few instructions caused the pleat edges to slip in between the cheeks of her ass and touch her asshole. Although the skirt fell away from that very sensitive area in front above her cunt, it was all over the back of her legs, producing more of those delicate sensations she had come to enjoy so much in the last few hours.
Ginger stepped around beside her, and Lynn saw that she had several silk scarves in her hands.
"Don't move. Don't make a sound. This time I will count, to fifty. If you make any sound, or move your hands or feet, we start over, adding ten to the count. If you have a real problem and need to stop, like a cramp, just say 'uncle.' Got it?"
Lynn nodded, fear spreading through her. She thought to herself, "What can she do? Spank me? What are those scarves for, a gag?"
Ginger stood behind Lynn, reached around in front of her, and grasped the free end of one of the scarves in her other hand. Then she slowly raised it so that it just touched Lynn's cute little breasts, and started to pull it back and forth.
Lynn's mind cried out silently, "Oh, not there, please, anywhere else but there! Oh please, I can't stand it. It tickles, it tickles so much!" Outwardly she gasped, then bit her lip, her legs trembling uncontrollably.
Ginger noted the reaction, pleased that Lynn was so ticklish. She guessed it wouldn't take long, but decided to count slowly just in case. She pulled the scarf tighter, and watched gleefully as Lynn tossed her head from side to side, valiantly trying to keep quiet.
When she got to ten, Ginger dropped one end of the scarf, and picked up another. She wanted to be sure that the silk was cold on Lynn's nipples. Sure enough, as soon as it touched those little breasts her victim's jerking and shuddering increased noticeably.
Back and forth, back and forth the cool silk slid, teasing the lovely girl's breasts in that maddeningly light, sensuous torture that she herself loved to endure. As she pulled her arms back and forth her body swayed, and she delighted in how the heavy nylon of her own outfit caressed her in much the same way as her scarves did Lynn. She started to move around more, swaying her hips and swiveling her shoulders, trying to get the fabric to slid over her skin as much as possible. It felt very good. The sight of her victim's struggle, knowing how good it felt, and the constant stimulation from her new clothes combined to make her very horny.
Thinking of what was yet to come that night made it even stronger. She had a date to meet Ralph after the meeting, and hoped that he was up to the kind of wild time she had in mind.
When Lynn felt the new scarf touch her breasts she thought she would go mad. During that first minute she was on the brink of crying uncle, then found that she could get into it and really thought that she had it under control. The freshness of the cold silk hitting her super sensitized nipples shattered that control, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably. She was afraid that her knees would buckle, or that a moan would get past her tightly pursed lips.
She kept seeing herself in her fantasy, twisting and turning, unable to escape the caresses of her male tormentors. Unlike the morning session on the table, she found herself experiencing this as undeniably erotic. It felt good, very good, unbelievably good. The sensation was nothing but pleasure, but the intensity of it and her need to endure it made it feel like torture. She thought that Ginger was counting awfully slowly, but wasn't sure whether to be glad or angry about it.
Once the shock of the new scarf had passed she started noticing the feelings coming from her ass and the backs of her thighs. Those little pleats were tickling her there, just as they had all morning, but now, her body alight from the constant tickling of her breasts, the pleats tickled even more. Her position allowed the skirt to just make contact with her asshole, and this was producing yet another kind of feeling, best described as tickling but with a new and different kind of pleasure mixed in.
The count was fifteen, and she felt the sensations coursing through her body getting stronger and stronger. It was bearable, but seemed less and less so with each passing second. It was like air being blown slowly into a balloon. Would Ginger get to fifty before the balloon burst? If she gave in, or lost control, she would have to start over, and she couldn't bear the thought. She had to make it, she had to endure this.
Ginger was well aware of her victim's rising distress. In fact, it was happening a bit sooner than she had expected. When she got to twenty she dropped her scarf.
"You're doing fine, Lynn," Ginger said in the warmest, most comforting tone she could manage. It sounded a bit breathless, and she wondered if Lynn might suspect how excited she was.
"Let's take a little break," she added.
She paused for a few seconds, noting how Lynn's body sagged in relief. Then she reached down, grasped the waist of Lynn's skirt, and began pulling it slowly and gently up and down.
"Do you like this?" Ginger asked.
When Lynn saw the scarf drop she immediately tensed up, waiting for the shock of another ice cold scarf. She relaxed a moment when she heard Ginger's reassuring words, and was caught off guard when she felt Ginger pulling her skirt over her ass. It seemed as if she could feel every one of the pleats as the edges scraped lightly over her ass, her thighs, and most of all her asshole. She remembered how in her fantasy she imagined the pleated nightgown brushing over her clit, and how much she wanted to come. She felt the same way now. The skirt felt wonderful tickling her asshole. All she wanted was to be able to turn over and have Ginger do the same thing to her cunt. She had no idea how it would feel, but she wanted it to be excruciatingly good, to be wracked with sexual pleasure as the pleats touched her hard little clit.
"From now on, you can make all the noise you want," Ginger said, her matter-of-fact tone belying her excitement at the expectations of what would follow. "No one can hear you in here. You can say anything you want, call me anything you like, just don't move. The magic word is still uncle."
Ginger was not disappointed.
"Ooooh, ahh, its so good! Please, no more, I can't stand it! It's too much. Stop, please stop!"
Ginger had no intention of stopping.
"Lynn, try to imagine that I am a boy you especially like. Imagine having him play with you this way. Think how excited it would make him to see you this way."
"Oh God! Ahhh, that tickles so much!"
"Maybe someday you'll be lucky enough to find a guy who will take the time to play like this. Men are funny about these things; you have to be patient with them."
"Oh, oh, really, I can't stand it!"
Ginger reached down, took a scarf in her hands, and went back to stroking it over Lynn's breasts.
"Yaaah! Please, not that! Oh, this is too much. Oh, oh. Hah, haaah! It tickles! Eeee!"
Ginger smiled as Lynn went from marginally cohesive speech to uncontrolled laughter. Her howls echoed around the room, yet her hands and feet did not move. Her laughter was beautiful to hear, that clear, clean laughter that young girls have. Despite her pleas for mercy it was laughter of delight, of joy and satisfaction. Hearing that laughter gave Ginger no doubt that Lynn was enjoying this immensely.
When Lynn heard that she could make noise she was amazed at what came out of her mouth. She heard herself screaming and laughing at the top of her voice. She was especially surprised to hear herself begging Ginger to stop, when what she really wanted was more. She wanted this to go on and on, and more than anything to have her clit touched so that she could explode in the relief of orgasm.
She was glad that Ginger did not stop. Once she knew that was the game plan she found that begging for Ginger to stop made it feel even better.
Her arousal was getting stronger by the second. Her nipples were at attention, her pussy was dripping wet, and she could feel her clit as hard as a rock. If only she could touch it! If she could just squeeze her legs together, that's all it would take! Each stroke of the silk over her breasts sent a powerful wave of pleasure through her. The waves grew larger, tumbling over each other, crashing and swirling. And layered over this was the constant tickling, stronger than anything she had ever felt, maddeningly sensual.
"Think of that young man of your's. How would it feel to him to have this scarf dragged over his cock?"
"Oh my God! Oooh, yes!"
"Imagine him tied to your bed, spread-eagled, unable to make you stop. You can do this for a very long time. Think of it, how good it feels. He would feel everything you do now, but it would be like dragging this over your clit."
Ginger's little story made Lynn feel even hornier. Now she could feel an orgasm approaching, ever so slowly. Could she come this way? Did she want to? Part of her wanted to, desperately, to explode into a million pieces like in her fantasy, but another part of her held back, unwilling to let go that much with Ginger.
Suddenly Ginger stopped.
"I think that's enough. Here, let me help you."
She put her arm around Lynn's waist and guided her to a chair. Lynn collapsed, panting, looking for all the world like she had just finished running a marathon. Ginger helped her pull the sweater over her head, straightening it up.
"Rest a minute, then let yourself out. I'll see you tonight at seven."
Lynn looked up bleary eyed and watched Ginger pick up her bag, open the door and walk out, her shiny black pants fluttering wildly as she walked away. She craved to be able to wear those pants.
No sooner had the door sighed closed than she reached down and stroked her pussy. It was sopping wet. She stirred her finger in the goo, then slid it up and found her clit, still hard. She thought of herself in her fantasy, the handsome young man brushing her sheer pleated nightgown over her clit. It seconds she was coming, great waves of release washing over her. It was a powerful orgasm, and, taking advantage of the sound proof room, for the first time in her life she screamed as she came, as loud as she could. The release this provided and the animalistic sound of her voice ringing in her ears added a depth to her pleasure unlike anything she had experienced before.