Authors: Bridy McAvoy
Two minutes before ten o’clock Alan stopped outside the back entrance to the store.
“Are you okay, Amy? You seem a little tense.”
I leaned over in the car, kissed him lightly on the lips and smiled into his face.
“I’m fine, sweetie, honestly. It’s just I really didn’t want to get up this morning. I wanted to stay in bed with you and enjoy myself some more.”
I poked him in the ribs.
“Don’t tempt me, I might take you up on that, take you straight home right now.”
“Easy, tiger.” I smiled at him and giggled. “You can do whatever you want later. First I have to work. That fuel pump isn’t going to pay for itself now, is it?”
Before the conversation could veer off into territory I really didn’t want to talk to him about I opened the door and stepped out into the heat of the morning sun. Say what you like about Alan’s old Chevy, the air con works real fine.
“Scoot, hon, I’ll call you when I’m done or if I cadge a lift. Go be lazy. I’ve got to work.”
I waved and he gunned the engine, dipped the clutch to blip the sound and then roared off. I smiled fondly as he fish-tailed out of the car park and sped off back toward the highway.
Out of sight, out of mind
, I thought as, bracing my shoulders, I turned to the door. I was about to knock when it was opened from the inside.
“I do so admire punctuality in my slaves. Come in.”
His deep voice and that word again sent a shiver down my back. Wordlessly, I stepped through the doorway and heard it clang shut and lock behind me.
* * * *
She stood there waiting for me in the dimly lit back corridor of the shop. Despite the poor lighting I could clearly see she was trembling, probably expecting me to pounce on her immediately. My plans were somewhat more sophisticated than that though.
“Lead the way to my office, slave. We need to talk and we might as well be comfortable as we do so.”
“Ah…Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I meant . . . Yes, sir.”
“Nearly right, but there is another term that you can use interchangeably with that one, isn’t there?”
“Yes . . . Um . . . Master.”
My office was on the second floor, the middle floor of the three storey building, almost above the doorway I’d just ushered her in through. To get there, though, we had to cross into the public part of the store, and then up the central staircase before threading our way through, conveniently, the ladies wear department, in order to reach the offices at the back.
As we moved into the better lit part of the shop, I could see she’d chosen relatively sexy jeans and a fairly tight top for the occasion. This was in spite of my telling her she wouldn’t be wearing them for long. The jeans were tight, moulding themselves to her nicely shaped, taut backside. Her top was taut between her shoulder blades, showing the mark of her bra strap underneath. The shoes had maybe two inch heels, certainly not high heels but a little dressy for stock taking.
“Stop.”
She did as she was told, as we reached the bottom of the main sweeping staircase in the centre of the store, opposite the shuttered main entrance. I could see her head waving as if she wanted to turn it to look at me to see why we’d stopped, but she held the self discipline not to. A few paces took me to a position in front of her. As I’d thought from my limited viewpoint earlier the top was tight, stretched across her breasts, showing the pattern of her bra through it. Deliberately staring at her chest produced the desired result. Not only did her nipples appear as indentations in the tight cloth but she began to blush as she realised the effect I was having on her body. Stepping aside I ushered her toward the stairs.
Resuming my position behind her I climbed the stairs, a good four steps below her, marvelling at her taut buns moving under the denim, as each leg took one step at a time. We reached the door to the office section and I sped up and opened it for her in a gentlemanly fashion. She gave me a tight but nervous smile of thanks and then I opened the door to my own office, ushering her to the same seat she had occupied the previous afternoon.
“So tell me, Amy, what do you feel now you are here?”
“Well . . . I feel nervous . . . sir.”
“Nervous about what?”
She kept glancing at the video camera pointing at her from the tripod to the side.
“The camera, I take it?”
“In part, sir . . . um . . . master.”
“The camera has one purpose, to ensure I have a record that you are doing this of your own free will and not being coerced, or for that matter, raped.”
She gulped.
“What else is making you nervous?”
“Well, I’m hoping you aren’t going to hurt me, sir.”
“So, you are a submissive but you are not a masochist? Is that right?”
She nodded slowly.
“That’s fine. I’m a dominant but I’m not a sadist either. So I’ll not hurt you...”
Amy looked relieved.
“...much. Unless I have to because you do not do as you are told. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, master.”
“Do as you are told and you’ll be fine then, won’t you?”
She nodded again.
“So tell me, Amy, what do you want me to do now?”
She raised her eyes to look straight into mine with a long searching look, at the end of which she had obviously seen what she needed or wanted to see. She took a big breath.
“Whatever you want to do, master.”
I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers in front of my face, my eyes not leaving her face.
“Slave, stand up.”
She took another large breath and rose to her feet.
“Kick the shoes off.”
One she’d complied I could see she was already panting as the process began and I smiled.
“Lose the jeans. I don’t like my slaves to wear pants of any sort.”
Her fingers dropped to the belt of her jeans and slowly pushed the buckle undone.
“On second thoughts, remove the belt from the jeans and hand it to me. That might come in handy later.”
She stiffened at the implication but complied with the order, leaning across the desk to hand it to me. Quickly I doubled it in my fist and snapped out the slack making a satisfying noise. Amy jumped at the crack as it echoed across the room but resumed undoing the button at the top of her fly.
A moment later she lowered the zip and then paused for a second, biting her lip. Obviously she saw this moment as the point of no return. Silly girl, she had passed that particular point much earlier in the process, simply by turning up.
Then, before I could say anything to her, before she stimulated my displeasure or a semblance there of, she began to wriggle out of the tight garment. The wriggling was rather fetching, emphasised as it was by her desire to retain her panties in place while she did so, the jeans were that tight. They dropped below crotch level and she began to caress them down her long legs. This was the first time I had had the chance to see her naked legs, the first time I had seen her legs above the knee at all. Always before, she had been wearing the regulation uniform knee length skirt and black, nearly opaque tights.
Now as she shimmied out of the jeans I saw her naked legs for the first time. She hopped onto one leg and slowly pulled them clear of the other one, her breasts straining against her bra and tight top as she did so. A moment later she repeated the process, leaving the jeans in a heap on the floor. Amy looked around for a place to put them.
“Leave them there and straighten up.”
She did as she was told, her hands crossed demurely in front of her crotch.
“Hands behind your back. Never cover yourself up in front of me. I won’t tell you again.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Obediently her hands moved to the sides and finally behind her. The top came down past the waistline of her full panties but not far enough to cover the crotch area. Although these were tight, the thicker crotch band itself prevented any detail of her private parts showing through or indenting the fabric.
“Turn around and face the other way, put your hands to the side.”
The back of the panties were even tighter than the front, stretched tautly over her now well-displayed ass.
“Stand facing that way. Remove your top.”
Her hands moved shakily to grasp the top in front of her, out of my view, her shoulders giving away the fact she had crossed them as the easiest way to strip the top off upwards. Grasping the hem she began to pull it up, revealing more and more of her naked back as she did so. After a couple of moments the white strap of her bra came into view and the garment continued to rise. I could see the muscles of her buttocks trembling as she continued the manoeuvre, obviously her treatment already exciting her.
She eased the top clear of her bra, capped breasts secure in the knowledge I couldn’t see them, yet; unaware the security camera was preserving the moment for me. As the top rose to entangle her head I gave her another order.
“Stop. Hold the top there and turn to face me.”
With her arms and head entangled in her soon to be discarded top, this moment would feel extremely vulnerable for her. The trembling of her body intensified but Amy still followed my instructions, turning to face me, displaying those beautiful breasts to me for the first time, still of course confined in the bra. This covered the whole of each breast, only an indentation showing where her hard nipples rubbed against the fabric. Those breasts weren’t large, probably no bigger than a B cup, but the bra flattered them, producing an enticing cleavage.
“Remove the top. Drop it onto your jeans.”
She completed the job, and remembering my earlier instruction dropped her hands to her sides.
“Well done, Amy, now slip your shoes back on.”
She stepped into the sling back heels, delightfully balancing on one leg and bending forward to slip the strap around her ankle. The inadvertent display of her cleavage was very nice. When she straightened up she saw what I was looking at and realised the display, bringing another flush to her cheeks. Actually the blush descended onto the tops of her breasts as well, providing a beautiful contrast with her severely white underwear.
“Well done, Amy.”
The praise had its desired effect and she smiled, lighting her face up again, brightening and enhancing her natural beauty.
“You are very beautiful when you smile, slave. Smile more often.”
“Yes, master. Thank you for the compliment, master.”
She’d clasped her hands behind her back now, deliberately pushing her breasts out and up, obviously waiting for the instruction to lose the bra.
“Come with me, slave. I think we need to change your wardrobe.”
I rose and moved around the desk, indicating she should walk to the door in front of me. She gave a last despairing look at her clothes before leaving them where they lay. She jumped when she saw I was still carrying her belt but made no comment as we walked down the short corridor and out onto the shop floor, as I said earlier, conveniently straight into the ladies wear department.
It had been very difficult to leave my clothes behind on the floor of Mister Chisholm’s office, and then walk out onto the shop floor wearing just my underwear. I’d really expected him to strip me naked and take me, then and there, in his office. Indeed, half the night had been spent fantasising about him doing just that, bending me over his huge desk and screwing me from behind. Sometime about three o’clock in the morning I’d gone to sleep with that image floating in my mind. Now instead of having been stripped and fucked I was still wearing my underwear, although probably not for much longer.
I wondered briefly if he could smell my arousal. The scent of my pussy floated up to my nostrils with every step. I knew I was wet and the panties I wore damp, but I wasn’t sure if my scent carried to him.
The scene in the office, as he had made me slowly undress for him, had been totally different form my fevered imaginings but nevertheless still highly erotic. Another minute standing there with my top tangled around my head, feeling so helplessly vulnerable, I think I’d have cum. Suddenly I realised Charles, my new master had spoken to me.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you?”
“I asked what size are you?”
“Dress size, sir? Ten.”
“Bust size?”
I swallowed.
“. . . Thirty-four B, master.”
“Hips?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Thirty four what?”
“Sorry, Sir!”
“Feet?”
“Size six, master.”
“Well, we’ll have to find you some better shoes than that. Not exactly
fuck me
pumps, are they?”
“No, sir.”
He frowned at me and then led me over toward the lingerie section, no real surprise but that moment of exposure was getting closer. I could feel my fluids seeping into my panties, uncontrollably.
He motioned me closer, his eyes travelling lasciviously up and down my body several times.
“Obviously you think white is a good colour for you. Personally I think a blonde always looks better in black or red. Put these on.”
He tossed me a pair of sheer black stockings. Checking the packet, I realised they were hold ups. I tried to open the packet carefully but he interrupted again.
“Don’t worry, we’ll hardly be putting them back on sale after this, will we? Get them on. You can sit there.”
I nodded and smiled a brief thanks and moved quickly over to the indicated chair. Slipping out of my shoes and ripping open the packaging on the stockings didn’t take more than a moment. Then it was a matter of leaning down and slipping the first rolled up stocking over my toe. I glanced up through my lashes to see Mister Chisholm staring straight down my cleavage, inadvertently exposed as I bent over. Of themselves my nipples hardened further and I fought down the instinct to either cover up or turn away.
With one leg done I crossed the bare leg over it, feeling the sensuous way the nylon brushed against my bare skin. When the stockings were on I stood up again.
“Straighten them.”
Looking back over my shoulder at the back of my legs I realised they were seamed stockings and I’d twisted them. A minute or so pushing and turning brought the seams straight and I’m certain he’d enjoyed the jiggling movements of my breasts as I did so.
“Now, let’s see, what would look good with those stockings?”
I could see his eyes drinking in my legs from toe to crutch. I’d worn stockings, white of course, under my wedding dress but never since. I’d forgotten just how sexy they made me feel. By now the crotch band of my panties was soaked, and my nipples were pointing straight out. Every time I moved the soft fabric of the inside of the bra rubbed across them, sensitising them even further.
He motioned me to stand still while he moved further between the racks. I stood as he had asked, no, told me to do, still, my hands at my sides and glanced around.
“This will be just perfect.”
I heard him but didn’t see him, at that moment my eyes had locked onto the flashing red light of the security camera. Obviously the security system was active and what I was doing was being recorded. Suddenly I realise he was standing in front of me, smiling as he followed my line of vision.
“Don’t worry, Amy, I’ll pull those tapes when we leave. Provided you continue to behave, that is.”
I knew my shock showed in my eyes and I swallowed nervously before focusing on the hanger he held out to me.
The thin, gossamer baby doll nightie and matching see-through brief was something only worn for one reason. To entice your partner into bed with the expectation it wouldn’t stay on for long.
He sat in the chair I’d just vacated and pointed to the items he had just handed to me.
“Put them on.”
I licked my lips and nodded, the words wouldn’t come. This was now the moment of truth, when Mister Chisholm would see me naked for the first time, and then dressed in a real
fuck me
outfit. I wasn’t sure which was worse, or for that matter as my pussy throbbed, best.
* * * *
For the first time I could see she was frozen, her emotions warring within her body. Part of her desperately wanted to continue, part of her just as obviously wanted to run away as fast as possible. Of course the presence of her purse, keys, money and phone and not least her clothes in my locked office prevented flight but she was thinking with her emotions not her rational mind at this moment.
The warring factions within her mind subsided and she nodded her head in final acquiescence and laid the hanger on the counter top behind her. I’d wondered if she would strive for some final tiny element of decorum by turning away and doing one half of the outfit before the other and then turning to face me but I was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. She had this endearing habit of licking her lips when she was nervous and she was doing it now. I crossed my arms to feign impatience although in reality I was enjoying this part of the seduction.
My impatience, faked as it was, communicated itself to her and she moved again. Her hands rose from her sides to a position behind the small of her back. A second later the fabric of the bra cups went noticeably slack as she undid the hook and eye at the back. Her hands moved back around in front of her and then up to her shoulders, the movement mashing her breasts together delightfully.
I was already hard from the earlier activities but now I hardened even more as she wrestled the shoulder straps down her arms while trying to hold the cups in place with her elbows. Finally the straps were down and she only had to drop her hands to bare her breasts to me. For Amy this was the moment of truth, after this everything would become easier. For now the thought of baring her breasts to me, a stranger, well, not her husband anyway, brought out all the warring emotions again.
“We haven’t got all day, Amy. I intend to fuck you more than once!”
My words cut into her like a knife, her reaction was instantaneous. Her arms dropped to her sides, the bra falling limply from her hands, her magnificent breasts bared to my gaze. Her chest heaved as she gulped in air, her own arousal evident from the panting as well as the visual cue of her elongated hard nubs that were her nipples.
“Do you want me to come over there and pinch and bite them, Amy?”
The sardonic tone was deliberate, masking my own up-swelling desire to do just that. She moaned softly, obviously tormented by the desire for me to do precisely what I said. Her fingers moved slightly, snagging the thin elastic waistband of the panties. She moved her hands down an inch and froze again. Her breasts jiggled slightly from the motion. I looked at her sternly, nodding my head for her to continue. After a further hesitation she did so, no coyness to her movements as she slid the panties onto her thighs and then down over her stocking clad legs to land in a ring on top of her shoes. She straightened up, with an obvious effort forcing her hands to stay to the sides, not attempting to shield her vulnerable crotch from my eyes. Her sparse blonde hair was trimmed to a neat landing strip about an inch wide and three inches long directly above an otherwise clean shaven mound.
* * * *
Standing there stark naked, well apart from my heels and hose, that is, I felt more vulnerable than ever. As his eyes fastened onto my slit I could feel the pressure building inside of me, heading for another orgasm. I knew from the feeling emanating there that my outer labia were puffy and spread open, I could feel my clit attempting to burrow its way out of the confining folds of flesh.
He motioned toward the counter and I knew he wanted me to don the kinky outfit he had handed me earlier. There wasn’t much to it, just a few scraps of transparent black netting, with a couple of straps to go over the shoulders and two laces to tie in front. The panties were the same material, no crotch band so I immediately realised seconds after pulling them on my secretions would make a visible wet patch on them.
Briefly I considered putting the panties on first but then realised he would probably prefer me to put the tiny baby doll on first, beside the laces made it a more complicated procedure. I lifted one foot and then the other clear of the circle of my panties before reaching for the hanger.
“Leave the tickets on.”
I stripped the top from the hanger and quickly undid the two laces that formed the bows at the front. As I pulled it on over my shoulders I could do nothing to prevent my breasts thrusting out at him.
“Tie it loosely, it won’t be done up for long.”
As I complied I realised I could detect a hoarseness to his voice, that betrayed a level of excitement that had to be approaching my own overheated state.
The two loose bows still held the garment fairly snugly across my chest. Looking down I could see my nipples were trying their hardest to push through the thin fabric. You could clearly see every little detail.
I removed the panties from the lower part of the hanger and slowly stepped one leg and then the other into them. Bending down to pull them up caused the top to sway out dangerously. Not that it mattered, of course, after all I’d already shown him everything I’d got.
As I pulled them up I slowly returned to the upright position, deliberately slowly, allowing him to savour the view I was presenting, knowing I was flirting with the danger of irritating him.
Finally the panties were snug against my hips, my mound and my ass. Already I could feel the front dampen as my juices continued to flow. I’d never been this hot for this long without either cumming or having someone or something inside of me. The anticipation of his next act, the nervous excitement and the arousal combined to push me ever closer to the edge without quite reaching it.
He stood abruptly and walked past me, beckoning me to follow him, which I dutifully did. Suddenly I was on familiar territory, we were in the stationery department; my department.