Tease to Please Ch. 08

"Ah so!" Hiro announced a minute later, sounding triumphant.

Elise opened her eyes. The floor around her feet was littered with shards of white linen. She tentatively traced her fingers around her skirt's new wavy hemline. At its shortest two points the outer pleats ended above her crotch and gluteal crease, respectively. It was far too short to conceal the little gap that widened between the tops of her inner thighs. Even worse, her fingers discerned, the inner pleats had been cut still shorter, following the same high-low pattern as the outer ones but a few inches higher.

"Oh, Doctor Yamamoto," she whispered, "you're just... mean!"

"Not so offensible, Elise," Hiro deprecated, "You walk for Doctor Yamamoto again. Show it moves."

Elise tried to lower the skirt down on her hips, but it was inelastic and already quite snug. It would not sit any lower. Feeling defeated, she paraded across the office wearing a sulky expression. With each step she felt the skirt's unequal and disparate pleats flitter across her bare skin. When she made it to the opposite wall and turned about-face, she could not resist the urge to reach behind herself again. The centermost rear pleats were terribly worrying. Without a doubt her bare bottom would be revealed with every step as she walked. If her panties had been wider in back they might have offered some coverage, but because she had chosen to wear a G-string it was hopeless. From behind, she knew, her underwear was nothing more than a single seam of white fabric nestled between the cleavage of her butt cheeks.

Elise shuddered at the idea of spending her entire workday like this. If she so much as hinted at bending over, everyone would have an unfettered view of her ass.

Doctor Yamamoto gestured for her to twirl again.

Teardrops began to form in the corners of Elise's eyes. Still, she spun for him.

'Why?' she thought to herself behind furrowed brows. 'It's a sickness! And these stupid pleats fucking tickle! Just please, God, don't let this shit turn me on...'

Doctor Yamamoto harrumphed. It was apparent he had only achieved a bare minimum level of satisfaction with her outfit. He spun around in his chair and began clicking the mouse and keyboard on one of his two computers. Before long, a photograph that Elise immediately recognized appeared on his screen. It was the slutty candystriper costume that had been the genesis of all her wardrobe obligations.

The Japanese doctor pointed at the absurd blouse worn by the girl on his screen and looked back at Elise while verbalizing something to Hiro.

"Doctor Yamamoto," Hiro relayed "say shirt style must be like this. Not so big as now, yes?"

Over Elise's protestations, the two Japanese men insisted that she fold the lower half of her little blouse up under itself until her bra was partially exposed. Then, using the excuse that Doctor Yamamoto would not tolerate the display of undergarments, Hiro made Elise remove her bra.

The two men crowded around Elise and made a series of further adjustments by hand until her pink shirt was rolled up so high around her ribcage that the bottom third of her bare breasts peeked out below. Doctor Yamamoto unbuttoned the neck of the blouse and pulled its dainty baby-doll sleeves down off her shoulders until they hung droopily around her upper arms. He then instructed Hiro to pinch the shirt's rolled-up fabric together as tightly as possible behind her. Elise had to exhale as the shirt was tightened like a rubber band around her ribcage. The under-curve of her petite breasts bulged out beneath it.

Doctor Yamamoto pulled out a stapler. Elise flinched as he slid the cold foot of the device up under the back of her shirt, right between her shoulder blades. Shock widened her eyes as a succession of staples was driven through her blouse, securing its new folds tightly behind her.

The shirt became little more than a four-inch band of pink encircling her chest.

"Please don't make me work all day like this!" she begged. "I'm practically naked!"

Doctor Yamamoto sat down.

"Very great now," Hiro declared, gleefully ignoring her plea, "Every mens can say so pretty. American too will say. Mister Alex, yes, and maybe Mister Jacob."

Hiro laughed loudly as if at some profound joke. Then he continued: "Look much like photo, Miss Elise. You may to thank doctor for nice help, yes?"

Elise was speechless. She pouted and stamped her little feet like a child. The heart-shaped lock on her belly chain jangled loosely. Hiro frowned.

Doctor Yamamoto leaned forward in his chair and extended his hand toward Elise's waist. He looped two fingers under her delicate belly chain and gently tugged at its slackness. Her mini tantrum, she realized belatedly, had allowed the doctor to notice how loose it had become.

Elise looked down and half-twisted away from the doctor's ticklish touch. Notwithstanding her lack of breakfast, she did actually wonder how her waist could have become so much narrower over the course of only a few days. It seemed impossible or, at the very least, unhealthy.

Doctor Yamamoto barked a series of instructions at Hiro, which sent the younger man scurrying from the room. He then rose from his chair and glided smoothly by Elise to a small closet on the other side of his office. He extracted a shiny steel cylinder and set it down on the floor. It rolled on built-in caster wheels. He proceeded to attach to it a flexible hose.

Elise recognized it was a fancy vacuum. It struck her as fittingly psychotic that the squat, hyper-demanding doctor would be incapable of delegating the vacuuming of his office. Why else would he keep an expensive-looking miniature shop-vac in his personal closet? He was too compulsive to leave such work to others, evidently.

Elise smiled. This small insight provided a mental diversion from her humiliating costume.

Doctor Yamamoto switched on the vacuum. To Elise's horror he then made a surprisingly agile assault on her miniskirt with it. He seized her wrist to keep her mostly in one spot while he worked the suction hose up and down each little pleat. Elise screamed and danced, twisting one way and another as the noisy little hose worked its way around her skirt's shredded remnants. The suction was so strong each linen ribbon made a flatulent sound as it got sucked into the hose. This would have been childishly funny had Elise not been so mortified that her underwear were about to get sucked off too. Eventually she realized the doctor was trying to suck away all the stray threads and shards from the cuts he had just made.

In no time Doctor Yamamoto was finished. He released Elise's wrist and redirected the machine's nozzle at the floor. He removed, using a very efficient pattern, every fallen shred of skirt fabric from the linoleum surface. When finished, he stopped the machine as suddenly as he had started it.

Doctor Yamamoto handed the warm vacuum to her, gesturing dismissively for her to return it to its rightful place in his closet.

"Fucking lunatic," Elise muttered under her breath as she put the machine away.

Hiro jogged back into the room. In his hand he held the little key which unlocked her belly chain. He gave it to Doctor Yamamoto who promptly waved Elise over to his chair while rambling on about something in Japanese.

Hiro informed her that the doctor was pleased with the rapid progress she had made on her posture. "You not slouch so lazy now. Good job!"

Elise did not know how to respond. It was a compliment, obviously, but she was too upset with both men to care. A moment of silence passed during which they stared at her expectantly. She rocked back and forth atop her tall shoes, stewing about her cruelly modified clothes. Finally her manners trumped her scandalized dignity and she uttered a quiet: "Thank you."

Doctor Yamamoto promptly reached toward her navel and unlocked the clasp of her chain. He then asked, via Hiro, for Elise to straighten up and suck in her tummy as much as possible. With great trepidation Elise did so. She felt the chain become taut again as Doctor Yamamoto pulled every millimeter of excess length through the little clasp.

She glanced down nervously at him. He was smiling. Elise recognized this to be a bad omen.

A metallic click signaled the relocking of the heart-shaped clasp. Elise carefully exhaled and stared down. The chain was wickedly tight around her waist. The clasp, centered just above her navel, had a full inch of new excess chain dangling below it.

"Doctor very proud, Miss Elise," Hiro intoned as she struggled to adapt her posture to its new confines. "His generosity gift much improve your health so fast! You agree it so impress?"

"I guess so," Elise said, struggling to keep her breathing shallow and her abdomen tight. She did not want to relax in front of them, since doing so would surely allow the slender chain to dig into her skin, making her look pudgy.

"Keep up Elise. You get so tall. So pretty."

"Thanks... I think."

"Good!" Doctor Yamamoto suddenly announced, using the first English word Elise had ever heard pass his lips. He rose from his chair.

Elise backed away, startled, but his thick hands encircled her waist and she found herself being lifted abruptly into the air.

Hiro laughed uproariously at the sight, saying: "Good day, Miss Elise! Doctor say almost like anime doll now. Nice for you job."

Elise's hands reflexively grabbed Doctor Yamamoto's shoulders for support as her feet kicked freely above the linoleum. She saw, beneath the doctor's heavy eyelids, a terrifying glint of mirth.

Being hoisted off the ground in front of Hiro made her skin crawl with embarrassment. Something about the ease with which Doctor Yamamoto was holding her aloft, combined with his eyes' unwavering gaze and her own hyper-awareness of her scant uniform, all combined to make her sexual organs tingle.

Despite herself she giggled. The humiliation itself was like a drug.

When Doctor Yamamoto set Elise back down onto her high heels, she quickly turned and stumbled away toward the window in an effort to recover her composure. Unfortunately, those few steps were the final motions needed to finish winding the Model O.

The resonance of that first 'ting...' on her clitoris felt far more delicious than it should have. Elise gasped in surprise, recognizing immediately that she was drunk on a cocktail of arousal and shame. Her knees wobbled. Her stride faltered. She barely made it to the window after the second chime. She grabbed the lower sill and closed her eyes. Every tendon in her neck stood out as she strained to keep herself from squealing aloud.

The next two chimes of the Model O almost made her collapse.

"Please God," she whispered through gritted teeth. "Don't let me lose it. Not here!"

With each succeeding 'ting' her arousal ascended like a rocket. All the attention lavished on her by the two Japanese men, combined with the thought of spending the day wearing this outfit, conspired to render her completely impious. The Model O's chimes merely telegraphed her condition from the subconscious to the palpable.

Despite having braced herself against the frame of the window, Elise slowly sank into a crouch. She could not help emitting a series of whimpering squeaks as the Model O continued to strike its resonant tune upon her clitoris.

Behind her, Doctor Yamamoto spoke. Hiro asked: "Is small toy happening now?"

"Yes!" Elise shrieked in desperation. She was down on the floor by then, kneeling with her face to the wall. Dignity was no longer a viable concern. Her right hand had dropped to her crotch and she began to rub her clit through her panties. Her left hand let go of the window and groped her breasts in turn.

She had never been so easily aroused in her life. Worse still was the awareness that her condition was entirely a result of what Doctor Yamamoto had done to her clothes.

Elise sensed the men moving behind her. She opened her eyes. Hiro and the wall-shaped doctor appeared to either side of her, squatting on their haunches. They each wrapped an arm around her torso and another under her knees. They lifted her off the floor and carried her out into the main part of the laboratory.

Elise felt helpless. Her body curled reflexively into Doctor Yamamoto's chest. Her eyes re-closed. All she could feel was the ringing joy inside her clit.

Hiro let go, allowing Doctor Yamamoto to carry Elise alone. He followed behind them as they crossed the lab.

The Model O finished chiming but Elise no longer needed it. She still had one hand tucked into her crotch. She knew her body was only a few heartbeats from orgasm. Imagining what Doctor Yamamoto would think of her if she came in his arms so whorishly was itself an erotic stimulant. He would witness her most intimate self-expression up close; a carnal, guttural admission of her depravity. It would validate every twisted idea his mind contained, and probably many more it did not. Her debasement would be total.

These thoughts raced through Elise's mind and her body tensed with anticipation. Resistance seemed impossible. She wanted to moan out loud. Her orgasm was going to be amazing. It would happen in mid-air, curled up in Doctor Yamamoto's stiff embrace; a collision between ecstasy and utter disgrace.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

Suddenly Elise felt Doctor Yamamoto lowering her onto her feet. His grip loosened around her torso. She opened her eyes and stumbled slightly before regaining balance. They were in the second-floor kitchen. Her genitals tingled fiercely, hovering near the verge, but the stimulation was gone. She was abandoned, unsatisfied.

"No," Doctor Yamamoto whispered into her face in English. His expression conveyed cold disapproval.

Elise backed one step away from him. She felt light-headed and dizzy. Her right hand found its way to her crotch again. She did not care anymore what any of these men thought. She just wanted to cum now; even if that meant masturbating right in front of them.

Doctor Yamamoto crisply batted her hand away, preventing her from touching herself. He spoke again in terse Japanese.

"No, Miss Elise," Hiro piped up beside her. "He say you too hot. Not learn lesson. Time for work now."

"But I'm so close!" Elise whined.

"No!" they both answered in unison.

Doctor Yamamoto grabbed her by the wrist and led her across the kitchen. He opened the freezer door and extracted one ice cube from within. Elise stared, bewildered, as he sucked the ice cube into his mouth. Once its rough edges were smooth, he spat it back into his hand and said something to Hiro.

"This cool you off," Hiro translated.

Doctor Yamamoto pulled Elise closer by her wrist. He lowered the ice cube to the front of her skirt and then smoothly slipped his hand under her panties. Elise gasped at its shocking coldness against her vulva.

Then she screamed as the frozen cube was shoved high up into her vagina: "No-no-no-fuck-NO!"

Doctor Yamamoto ignored her. He held her still and made sure the ice cube was wedged deep inside. He then removed his finger and snugged her underwear back into place.

Elise's knees knocked together and her face contorted itself into a frozen scream. The ice burned. Her cervix was in Antarctica being trampled by penguins.

Before she could react further, the two Japanese men each took her by an arm and led her diagonally across the lab, not bothering to explain where they were headed. Elise felt ice-water leaking from her. It dribbled down her inner thighs and ran under her stocking tops.

"Let me take out the ice, please!" she begged. "It's killing me!"

"You go for nice walk now, Miss Elise," Hiro intoned with a grin as they arrived at a set of double doors. "Fresh air good for lady too hot."

Hiro let go of her arm and pushed the steel crash-bar on the doors. Daylight and chilly air poured through. Outside Elise recognized the narrow balcony of a fire-escape. Morning sunlight slanted across the leafy treetops on the opposite side of the street.

She clutched her cold, wet panties with her free hand while Doctor Yamamoto led her out onto the fire escape. She shuffled awkwardly beside him, her thin heels catching in the metal balcony's striated floor.

"You walk to other side now," Hiro instructed, imitating his boss' sternness. "Ring bell at de-wivery door. Doctor Peter come for you."

Doctor Yamamoto finally let go of her other arm.

"But, Hiro!" Elise pleaded in desperation. "People will see! This outfit makes me look like... like a whore!"

Hiro nudged her further out into the sunlight and gave her bottom an abrupt swat.

Within moments the two men had retreated back through the doors. They pulled shut with a metallic clang.

Elise was alone, outside on a second-story fire-escape at 8:40am wearing an outfit that left absolutely nothing to anyone's imagination. The melting ice cube inside her young pussy had thoroughly soaked her white lace panties. Anyone standing below would have discerned that she paid to have her crotch waxed nearly hairless.

The cold water dripping down her inner thighs gave her goose bumps. Her nipples hardened into small rocks, blatantly distending the fabric of her stapled-tight blouse.

Elise looked down and scanned the street in either direction. The laboratory building occupied the entire block and the delivery entrance was on the exact opposite side from where she stood. It was going to be a long walk.

'What the fuck is wrong with me?' she wondered, nearly in despair. Mentally she felt just as slutty as she looked.

She wiped her eyes and then grabbed the handrail. There was no point crying. She turned around and began carefully descending the steel ladder that would take her down to the sidewalk. A light breeze tossed the loose pleats of her skirt in all directions. The tiny footpads of her shoes threatened to slip off the rungs of the ladder at any moment. She had never felt so exposed.

Once on the ground she wrapped her arms around her petite chest in an attempt to conceal her boobs, which still peeked out below her shortened blouse. There was little she could do about her shredded skirt however. She considered running all the way to the delivery entrance but immediately realized it was impossible in such tall heels – she could barely walk in them smoothly.

The sidewalk was clean but narrow. The side of the building she was on was not on a major thoroughfare, but Elise knew it was rush hour and that plenty of people would be passing through the neighborhood anyway. Worse yet, there were no parked cars to hide behind.

She walked only twenty yards before hearing the sound of an engine accelerating from the intersection behind her. She forced herself not to look back, expecting honks and cat-calls.

Instead there was an eerie silence. Elise kept walking. The approaching car slowed and glided by her at a crawl. She glanced briefly at the driver and saw a young man's face staring back. His expression was a picture of surprise. A moment later he accelerated away and Elise thanked her stars. But then she saw his blinker light up. His car turned right at the end of the block and disappeared. Another car approached from the oncoming direction. It was being driven by an elderly couple who thankfully did not notice her at all.

Elise quickened her pace, realizing she had a long way to go. The busiest streets lay ahead of her, around the corner and along the far side of the building.

A protracted ten minutes elapsed before Elise reached the lab's delivery door. They had been some of the most mortifying minutes she had ever experienced. No cars had actually stopped, luckily. And she had not been physically accosted. But she knew that at least a hundred people had seen her. This included a large commuter bus bearing the logo of a well-known high-tech company. Its lightly tinted windows had been crowded with South Asian faces undoubtedly working on H-1B visas. They had pointed and stared, their expressions at once both mocking and rapturous.