Gemma was the director of a prestigious art gallery, and while she had done an excellent job on procuring successful exhibitions, she had been the subject of complaints from wealthy patrons in other respects.
Specifically, the gallery’s largest donor had suggested to its board that Gemma’s work outfits “weren’t sufficiently professional”.
Keen to retain her job, and understanding the importance of pleasing the gallery’s donors, Gemma agreed to attend professional counselling to resolve the situation.
The counselling structure was a discussion with a career advisor, for which Gemma was placed in a mild hypnotic trance to ensure she took the advice she was given.
“What does the art gallery want me to wear?” Gemma asked.
“You’re expected to be fashionable,” the counsellor told her. “Look in some magazines and pick out something that you think the visitors would like to see you in. Be bold. Show off a little.”
On her way home from the counselling, it was Gemma’s misfortune to spot a title at the newsagent, sealed in protective wrap – “Extreme Bondage Fashion”. Compelled at a subconscious level, she bought it and took it home.
In her bed that night, she leafed through it, unable to close it or look away, growing gradually more alarmed and embarrassed by the abused and humiliated women depicted in the pornographic magazine. She was acutely aware that the majority of the gallery’s clients were men. Her body was not unattractive. She had to pick out an outfit they would like to see her in.
She cried the next morning as she applied the painful clothespegs to her nipples, and eschewed both bra and panties. She drove blushingly to the gallery with her dress bunched around her waist, exposing both tits and cunt, and then walked into the gallery.
As the first clients arrived, and gaped at her nude form and abused tits, she heard the words in her head – “Be bold. Show off a little” – and blushing bright crimson, she began to raise her left leg to give them all an even better look at her fuckhole…