Alexa's Executive Interview

Dylan immediately sobered.

"What? Twenty-five thousand?" he asked, regaining his own authoritative tone. It didn't last long. Jessica gripped his toes and exposed his sole with a professional firmness.

"Laugh, Dylan," she said with the focused voice of an animal trainer, and immediately, Dylan fought her talented stimulation again. The stakes were higher now, and he clenched hard to keep his composure.

"N-no!!" he actually shouted, and that was the last action he managed before exploding into laughter.

Watching him, I suddenly felt as though I was about to orgasm. I was completely surprised and took a sharp breath in to calm myself. Thank goodness it worked. It was extremely primal to me, the sheer eroticism of watching Jessica reduce Dylan, poised in angry defence, into giddy blissful joy with hardly more than a finger snap.

Even I hadn't realized that Jessica had not truly meant business until now. Dylan was acting as though electricity was passing through him. After half-a-minute, his body didn't writhe so much as gently convulse. He laughed continuously, his mouth in a wide open smile. All the while, Jessica smiled sweetly, watched him closely, and lightly played her nails under his toes.

I was impressed that he hadn't resorted to begging again, until I realized that he simply couldn't. Jessica's control over him was so complete that his body was taking instructions from her fingernails, and not from him.

"Were you trying tell us that you were offering to follow my instructions, Dylan?" asked Jessica, and gave him just enough leeway to nod weakly through his lingering smile.

"You would like us to remove your pants and underwear so that we can perform the next test on you?"

He exerted a desperate effort to nod a second time.

"Thank you, Dylan. You're doing so well," she said. "Place your arms on the armrests, please."

He did so, and Jessica brought her remote control into play again. Circular straps crept out of the arms, dolphin-dived around his wrists, and tightened to comfortable snugness. After removing Dylan's other shoe and sock, leaving him adorably barefoot, she undid his pants. It took only a particularly attentive glance to convince Dylan that raising his legs, making the removal of his pants easy for Jessica, was the wise course of action. Once his pants had been folded and placed out of his sight, she hooked her fingers around the belt of his white briefs. I watched very closely as she revealed his penis and testicles, and slid the garment off his feet.

"Stay just like that, Dylan," she said, as the straps secured themselves around both his ankles and effectively completed his fusion with the chair.

"We're going to need to make sure we can see your penis, Dylan," said Jessica, and pressed her next button. The chair's legs spread outward and upward, so that both soles faced the walls, and his legs were spread apart, forming almost a right angle.

It was so amazing to see. The head of a company, wearing one of his best suits, with his naked penis and testicles dangling beneath the hem of his buttoned shirt, and the soft, round, cute soles of his feet presented so neatly. I don't think I had ever been more turned-on in my life, but it was still important that I played the victim.

By the time Jessica's arrangement of Dylan was complete, she had returned with a new item. It was not unlike three links of a chain, but each link was a different material. The uppermost was a light plum elastic, and it was connected, by a small band, to a darker elastic ring. As Jessica placed her thumb and index finger inside the dark ring and opened them, it was clear that the shiny material was stronger than even a thick rubber band. The lowest and smallest ring was metallic and solid.

Dylan was recovering, and his eyes now followed Jessica as she knelt between his legs and focused with care on his genitals, which were now defenceless.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked meekly.

Jessica stretched the uppermost ring open, lifted his penis with her hand, and placed it around the shaft, letting it rest at the very base. Then she stretched the dark ring wide and placed it around his scrotum. It was relatively tight, but apparently not painfully so, and his testicles hung loosely through it.

"You should be thanking me, Mr. Tyler," she said with professional sophistication. "This is your opportunity to stop digging this unfortunate hole for yourself. You were kind enough to inform us about some of your sexual interests. As you said before, no further adjustments to our settlement should be necessary if you can, indeed, demonstrate that you are capable of controlling them."

Jessica tugged gently downward on the small metal ring, effectively tugging downward on his scrotum and the base of his penis, now that the device was mounted on them. She attached it to a clip which sank into an otherwise invisible hole in the chair, located just forward of the position of his anus. A video camera, waiting on the trolley, was then positioned by Jessica for an acceptably close shot of his exposed private area.

"The testing procedure will be explained clearly in the video, Mr. Tyler," Jessica said, walking behind him. I watched her procure and apply a long, wide strip of material, which she wrapped around his mouth like a misplaced blindfold. Whatever the material was, Dylan immediately tested it and seemed unable to articulate any intelligible sound through his mouth. Exhaling was inhibited largely by the almost-adhesive thing, and when he attempted to breathe in, it sealed itself to his lips, and he hiccoughed. After brief experimentation, he was resigned to inhaling and exhaling through his nose.

Though she affixed it manually, the strap around Dylan's forehead seemed equally snug to the ones binding his limbs.

"Now, just relax and watch, Dylan. The test will take at least an hour, but we'll be here to monitor everything that happens."

Dylan's eyes widened at Jessica's time estimate, and he attempted to emit some kind of incredulous vocalization, which was quickly dissipated by the material around his mouth. The test would take him through his lunch break and into his afternoon; probably longer. He struggled with renewed desperation, as though just realizing that he was utterly helpless.

Jessica gave me a hint of a smile from behind his head.

She retrieved her final piece of equipment from the cart: a helmet, shaped like the protective headgear of a motorcyclist. Its smooth beak and modern design reminded me of the virtual reality helmets which had made brief appearances in amusement parks a few decades ago. Dylan calmed as it was placed on his head, committing him to darkness and, judging by the enclosing material around the ears, relative silence.

Jessica's remote seemed to control the headset as well, and after another press, an LED illuminated on the helmet's exterior.

"He can't hear us," Jessica told me.

"At all?" I asked.

"Not at all," she said, turning on the plasma screen. "And you are doing wonderfully, Alexa. I knew my confidence was well-placed."

"I feel incredible," I told her, almost shedding tears at the admission. "You are really good, Jess. Really amazing."

"Well, there's more to be done right now. Let's not keep Mr. Tyler waiting, hmm? Let's see how he likes the presentation." Jessica issued another command from her remote, and the plasma screen -- along with the screens aligned to Dylan's eyes inside the helmet -- illuminated to a soft grey.

The interior of a minimalist white studio followed. The click of heels was heard, and soon, an attractive, smartly-dressed personality entered the shot and faced the camera with an extremely kind smile.

"Hi. I'm Elyse," she said. "I work here at Insight Research, and today, I'm here to walk you through a customized Insight Screening Examination."

The video cut to a medium shot, focusing more closely on her upper body and face. She was more than an attractive host; she was enviably beautiful, and with such an innocently enthusiastic demeanour to boot, it was difficult not to be irrationally jealous of her as she stood centre stage and smiled. I allowed reason to remind me that her role was equally as important as Jessica's and mine, and prepared myself to relax and enjoy what was about to happen.

"This examination will measure your instantaneous sexual responses to visual and aural stimuli," Elyse continued. "Let me explain how it works."

The shot of Elyse was split-screened with a computer-generated image, depicting a dormant set of male genitalia sporting the three-ring device. It rotated slowly as she spoke.

"By this time, you have been fitted with a Insight Research wireless plethysmograph. Once an erotic image, sound, or scenario is presented to you, your brain will process it, and your penis will react accordingly. As the primary ring is stretched, the liquid inside it is displaced and the result is measured precisely and continuously." In the animation, a growth to full erection was depicted, and the tautness of the ring was indicated with a yellow glow.

The 3-D animation receded, and Elyse took a step into the centre of the studio. Her presence was still electric, bordering just on the clinical side of flirtatious.

"This method is more effective than the sexual interest inventory in the traditional questionnaire format, because male sexual response is primarily automatic; in other words, you can't help it. As the examination continues, we will gradually isolate the precise stimuli that produce the most significant penile responses."

The split-screen effect returned, but instead of a 3-D model, the left side of the screen was occupied by the live shot of his own penis and testicles, helpless and at rest.

"Let's begin with a simple example," said Elyse. She happily removed her jacket, unbuttoned her blouse, and stepped out of her skirt, leaving herself naked except for her high heels and solid black underwear.

"The Insight plethysmograph is so precise that it can measure even slight increases in circumference; so slight that you may not even be conscious of them."

Elyse began to remove her bra.

"In fact, it's important that you don't attempt to sway or repress the results, because nervousness and anxiety may actually augment your level of arousal," she said cheerily. "Just relax and let yourself react."

Her bra was removed, and her breasts were presented clearly to Dylan's eyes. It was a graceful display, and I found myself feeling amusedly sympathetic to Dylan's dilemma.

She glanced the camera with a smile of mischievous sophistication, and brought one hand to her breast. Her fingers contoured its curve, testing its sensitivity, and the fingers of her other hand were raised to their respective nipple. They caressed and then quickly squeezed the nipple, and Elyse's expression dissolved into an even more beautiful one. Her forehead tensed, and her chin raised as she inhaled.

I blinked suddenly. I had been so entranced by her routine that I had found myself wishing -- only to myself, of course -- that I might be able to do that to her. Or just to myself. I didn't know. Or care. This was really fascinating.

I just kept watching, transfixed by her eye contact with the camera. Her fingers played and twisted around the nipple, and she began to breathe in slow and visible waves. Her other palm squeezed her breast and tugged slightly, and her upper teeth pressed gently into her lower lip.

I glanced at Dylan in the chair. Though he was unable to speak and move, I could tell he was focusing on calming himself. His chest rose in a deep inhalation, and I watched his penis, with wide eyes, as it visibly perked up a little. It was so erotic to watch it begin to betray him.

The camera now framed Elyse's body from a lowered angle, producing the effect of an unnaturally tall depiction of her. The centre of her panties was now in the foreground as she leaned down to remove her right shoe. She smiled generously at the active camera, and presented her left sole directly to it. Her feet and toes matched the beauty of her hands and face.

The penis, still framed perfectly on the split-screen, now responded with a more decided reaction than a slight perk. Its foreskin stretched gradually but uniformly, and its angle raised steadily as the smiling host wiggled her toes flirtatiously. She brought her foot even closer to the camera, now representing the point of view of somebody trapped underneath it without many options.

Elyse was relentless in the sustained presentation of her foot, and Dylan's penis continued to silently rise until it pointed upward.

The shot switched back to Elyse's face and naked upper body.

"Glad you like me!" she giggled smoothly. "Now, I'm going to explain one more feature of the plethysmograph," she said, back to her salesperson voice.

"Wait," I said, looking over at Jessica. "Glad you like me? What if he hadn't responded to that?"

"The video sequence is software-based," said Jessica. "We've filmed and edited for every possible contingency."

Jessica's description of the program had been vague, and I was extremely impressed that it was so sophisticated. I had changed my disposition toward Elyse from jealousy to admiration.

"The plethysmograph is connected to a retractable cable in the chair. At strategic times, or when you've already been sustaining a full erection, we're going to be testing your unconscious responses to specific stimuli by pulling gently downward on your scrotum, like this."

Elyse directed his attention to the left side of the screen, where the action she had described, occurred. The small metal ring was pulled mechanically, a full inch, toward the seat of the chair and slightly backward. This had the effect of pulling downward on the scrotum, and applying indirect pressure to the base of his penis. Once the automatic pulling was complete, the excess downward pressure was released.

"This downward pressure is not enough to trigger flexion of your pelvic muscles in general, but if you're being presented with an image that turns you on, then it will be almost impossible to prevent a visible response. For example..."

The shot immediately cut to a close-up shot of six pairs of bare feet, soles facing the camera, toes wiggling playfully, and the sound of a group of young women giggling and laughing with amusement. Immediately, Dylan's scrotum was pulled downward. The angle of his penis lowered gradually with the force of the pull, and then his pelvic muscles contracted and it jumped wildly, pointing straight up in the air, and then relaxing as the pull subsided. It bobbed momentarily before coming to rest at full erection. The giggling women and their feet disappeared, and Elyse returned to the screen.

"So," she continued excitedly, "are you ready for your penis to put on a little show for us? Remember, just relax and let your body react."

She leaned in a little.

"Just remember," she whispered through a smile, "you can't help it." The floor-up shot returned, and Elyse splayed her toes in front of the camera as the restraints around Dylan's genitals tugged downward again, and his penis made another wild leap, held itself straight up for a full sexually-tense second, and bobbed again in the open air. Elyse wiggled her toes and giggled in delight.

Over the next while, I witnessed more video footage of attractive women displaying their feet to the camera than I knew existed. I was vaguely familiar with the increasing presence of disjointed clips on YouTube and remote pay-to-view web sites, but the quality was inevitably hit-and-miss. If the talent was impressive, the videos seemed guaranteed to lack a competent cameraman. If the production equipment was cutting-edge, then the cast members had sparse acting training.

These clips were different, and I have to admit that I would have been more impressed with the world of visual eroticism if I had known that videographers and actresses demonstrating such high quality and genuineness existed.

But all of that was a side-thought. As it played, it was Dylan's beautiful genitals that I was interested in, and the task of keeping him entertained seemed easy for the sequence of women in the video. The clips had become an episodic dream montage of erotic situation after situation.

A picture akin to my own was shown: a secretary at a computer, wearing black nylons with her ankles crossed on her desk, soles facing the camera. She typed, idly stretching them, and then looked at the viewer with a certain feigned shock. She wiggled her toes experimentally and smirked at the camera, and an automated pull on his scrotum caused Dylan's penis to flip into the air again. Each time it came to rest, it seemed to rest higher and prouder than before.

"Thanks for coming over to my apartment," said a blonde girl in a college sweatshirt, leading the viewer through a hallway. When settled in the bedroom with the camera facing upward from the floor, she apologized for the restraints, but she needed to "check his reaction to something." Her shoes were removed and held open to the camera, and the penile reflex was triggered once for each. The procedure was repeated with each of her socks. Finally, she smirked and placed one foot within two inches of the camera and held it there, wiggling the toes of the other foot behind it.

"I think someone's interested in being forced to smell women's feet," said Jessica, almost laughing out loud at the repetitive dance of his erection. I looked over at her in fascination; I had never given much thought to that facet of Dylan's interest, but it now dawned on me that he might have spent time imagining that I was in the position of the blonde girl in the chair. I took a good look at Dylan.

Smart suit. Cute bare feet, displayed helplessly to my view. Penis sticking proudly out from under his shirt, and now, it was bobbing ridiculously in the air almost every ten seconds. Dylan had entered this trying as hard as he could not to demonstrate any sexual response. I felt myself moisten further, even though my underwear was already palpably wet underneath my skirt.

Next, we appeared to be seeing the interior of a small booth, its wall decorated with drawings of cute and feminine anime characters and interspersed with colourful and bulbous Japanese writing. A coin slot was visible below, and a small and lovely female hand crept in from the right and placed a coin into the slot, with a mischievous flourish.

A soothing melody played to a light pop beat. A panel opened in the centre of the booth's wall at eye level, and an actual pair of small feminine feet alternately splayed and flexed in time with the music. They gradually approached the camera until they filled the entire screen, where they continued to display themselves. Just to the left, the image of Dylan's penis (which I had earlier remarked with amusement was now filling the entire height of its column of screen space) continued to jump again and again.

It was apparently time for Dylan to check back in with Elyse, who was sitting at an outdoor table in a flowing skirt. She was sipping a tall blended fruit drink, and her pretty feet rested on the table's surface, crossed at the ankles.

"Having a good time?" she said impishly, splaying her toes in feigned relaxation, and making his penis jump in response to the question.

"I'll take that as a yes," she giggled.

"We're detecting that you're approaching orgasm. As you know, if we provide you with too much stimulation, you will ejaculate and ruin the potential for finishing the test. So, when we detect that you're within a close threshold of that reaction, we're going to relax the stimulation just enough to allow you to continue providing data for the screening," she finished with an assuring lilt.