I keep following the instructions, from touching my toes to spinning fast enough my skirt flares up and then I’m ordered to sit back down. I know they’re addressing the other girls and I wish I could hear what they are saying, to give me an idea of what to expect or what the differences are. Am I succeeding? Failing? I have no idea.
“Number sixty, tell me about the boyfriend you had. The kisses and touches you shared. Spare no details,” his voice rolls over and covers me like it’s a tangible substance.
“W-we were fifteen, and he asked me to the movies, I was going to say no but my sister told me to give it a shot,” I probably sound like an idiot with the amount of breaths I take between my words, but if I don’t, then I’ll stutter like nobody’s business. “We had fun together, and we became an item. We were together for a couple of months, he was my first and only kiss. I dumped him because I wasn’t the only one he was seeing. He told me he wasn’t ready to go further either, but it turns out he just didn’t want to go beyond kissing with me. There was no touching other than the odd hand holding or arm wrapped over my shoulders and the kisses were as innocent as you can get.” I let out a relieved breath as I finish and I fold my hands behind me to hide the fact that they’re shaking.
“Your story is pathetic.”
That’s all the voice says, and it's humiliating, he’s a dick and I hope if I get in that I don’t draw his attention. Don’t think I have anything to worry about if he’s the one deciding my fate, clearly I’ve failed.
“Number sixty, open the clasps in your corset. Make it slow and don’t let it fall until I say,” it’s a different voice this time. This one is low and gravelly and raising goose bumps over my flesh. Although these aren’t caused from fear, if anything his voice is sensual and fills me with a feeling that I do not want to identify.
My hands shake as I work at the clasps, but I can’t get them open and no doubt I’m failing this.
“Take your time number sixty, I’m in no rush,” it isn’t sarcastic and his voice washes over me like a balm. But it doesn’t calm me, it heats my skin and makes me itch.
I breathe in and out slowly as I take each clasp one at a time, my fingers are still shaky but it’s a little easier as I slowly reveal my bra. I don’t stop until I reach the end of my stomach and I hold the corset pressed against my chest but the opening is revealing more than I’d like.
“Remove your hands,” his tone is growing deeper and I let my hands drop to my side and the corset falls away, hanging down at the top of my ass.
“Turn around and push the skirt down, make sure to bend as you push it past your knees. Don’t just let it drop.”
If they wanted a strip tease why not just ask me for that? I wouldn’t know what to do but wouldn’t it be easier for them. Although it is easier revealing myself to them when my back is turned. I start to push the skirt past over my ass, bending at the waist to continue its descent. I work my way over my thighs and over my knees, it’s hard to not let it fall but I don’t want to fail because I can’t follow a simple instruction.
“Step out of it slowly and turn back around.”
I wonder if they can see the shiver that this one voice draws out of me or the way my skin reacts to it. I face the mirror and I can feel my blush travel from my cheeks, down my neck and over my chest.
“Sit back down sixty, close your eyes and do not open them no matter what you hear or feel. Do not even let your eyelids flicker an inch, do you understand? And I don’t want a nod, a yes sir will suffice just fine.”
Yet another new voice, this one is softer. Dirtier somehow.
“Y-yes sir,” I force it out past the slight stammer before reclaiming my seat. I let out a long breath before slamming my eyes closed and waiting for the next part.
It doesn’t take long for the whoosh of the door opening to hit my ear, I can hear slow footsteps hitting the floor and walking towards me. A brush of air whispers across my almost naked body and a tremble works its way over me.
“Don’t move, don’t speak and definitely don’t peek,” it’s the third voice, the soft; dirty one.
I feel something run down my neck and my fingers white knuckle the chair to stop myself from flinching, it’s not his fingers I know that much. It’s too soft, delicate and almost… ticklish. Although that sensation barely registers, I’m petrified. I can’t predict what will happen.
“You won’t be touched number sixty, that only happens if you’re chosen. At least, it won’t be my fingers touching you. But we have to know how responsive your body is.”
His footsteps sound again until I sense something, someone stands behind me. I feel their breath brush against my ear and a shiver takes over me.
“A feather can be too ticklish, provoke the wrong response unless it’s used correctly. But you’re much too delicate for that aren’t you sixty, oh yes you require something else,” his lips are pressed against my ear as he whispers. “A flower is more your style, or the petals of one.”
It runs down my cheek, neck and then along my collarbone. I feel it dip between the valley of my breasts and the gasp from my lips surprises me, he steps away again and I don’t know where he’s gone until the flower runs down my stomach. My muscles contract from the movement as it continues its descent and runs across the lowest part of my stomach and across the waistband of my panties.
Swallowing hard, there is nothing more I want to do than open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m a mixture of anxious, scared and excited. This whole thing is nothing more than sex, how can my body be so wound up without being touched and in a situation like this? I can’t help but wonder what that says about me, I don’t even know this guy. All I know is the sound of his voice and how the sound of it makes something coil deep inside me.
The flower leaves my flesh and I have to stop myself from moaning, it’s pathetic and I feel so ashamed but my entire body is heightened and alive. For the first time in my whole life and I don’t know how to handle that.
His feet travel across the floor once more before the flower reconnects with my skin, running across my heeled foot, up my ankle and along the length of my thigh. It stops right at the edge of my panties and then a weight hovers over me, still no contact but I can feel him, hear his breathing and a darkness has passed over my eyelids.
“Do you want me to touch you Sixty, feel my body pressed against yours. Have my fingers run the same trail as the rose, have them dip inside your panties and see just how affected you are by that flower?”
I gasp and I feel a trail of fingers, so slight and light they are barely touching me, slide down my side and across the shape of my bra before he pulls away and it's only moments later that I hear the door open and I’m left alone.
“Every number who removed their clothes must now redress and wait by the door for your escort, we have made our decision.”