'What's in it?' she asked, reaching the edge of the sack and pulling it toward her. She didn't take her eyes off Mr. Stanton. He stood emotionless like a statue cut from stone.
'Open it and find out. I assume you know how to dress like a real woman.'
Curious, she opened the sack and pulled out the garments inside. She held up one after another, puzzling at them. She hardly understood what she had been given, until it slowly fell into place. Four garments: two black net stockings, a garter belt and a corset with strong steel supports.
'You want me to wear this getup? I'd feel like a fool.'
'You'll feel my whip if you don't don them immediately,' he said. His voice hadn't changed tone. The same cold monotone warned her that he wasn't joking. He meant for her to put on these kinky garments. So put them on she would.
He watched her intently as she sat on the bed, the warm, soft velvet comforting against her bare ass. She felt self-conscious as she pulled on one of the stockings. It seemed to caress her leg as she pulled it up around her firm, well-fleshed thigh. Watching, the man licked his lips once. That was the only sign that he was even alive.
Sheryle pulled on the other stocking, loving the way it clung to her flesh. It stimulated her, made her feel even lustier than she had before. Glancing at Mr. Stanton, she saw that the response in the man this time was even more pronounced. There was a distinct bulge growing at his crotch. The girl perversely decided to give the man a real thrill. Standing, she bent down over the bed, turning her well-rounded, perky white ass in the direction of the watching man. She parted her legs just enough to allow a shock of her red pussy fur to stick out in contrast with her milk-white skin. Bending further, she knew he could see her pussy and asshole.
That was exactly what she wanted. Let him suffer. She was the one calling the shots right now. She could make him do anything she wanted – later. But first the garter belt.
She draped it around her waist, then fastened the elastic bands to the tops of her stockings. She felt sinfully sexy by the time she finished. The picture she presented was incredible. Seeing herself in a full length mirror across the room made the young girl gasp.
Gone was the teenager. In her place was a woman with full-flaring tips, well rounded ass, and legs that could please any man if they were wrapped around his waist. She pirouetted a little, not able to move as much as she wanted due to the chains on her slender wrists. She rattled the bindings once to let the man know what she thought of them.
'Hurry,' he panted. 'Hurry and finish!'
She smiled sweetly, then licked her lips with just the tip of her pink tongue. The movement was erotic, a turn-on that would make a statue get a hard-on. It worked well on Mr. Stanton. She could see the bulge in his pants began to pulse and buck now. She knew his erection was paining him, trying to turn cartwheels in his pants.
She pulled on the corset, seeing that it laced up the front. The stiff black-lace garment fit her snugly. She grunted as her tits were cruelly mashed down by the corset top. She allowed her boobs to slide free and rest on the very top. This hurt a little as the edge of the garment cut into the base of her tits, but she knew it was more arousing.
Lacing up the front, she moved back into view in the mirror. The sight greeting her was a real turn-on. She was white skinned and fair. The black offset this beautifully. The red shock of hair on the top of her head was in wild disarray from her bout in bed earlier, but the most distinctive portion of her anatomy was her pussy mound.
The red-furred patch was surrounded by lilywhite flesh. And around this was black of stockings, garter belt and corset. Just looking at herself, Sheryle began to feel horny. She knew her cunt was dribbling out its thick fuck juices. She was turning herself on just by dressing up!
'Well?' she asked Mr. Stanton. 'Do I meet your high standards?'
He said nothing, moving around to stare at her. She felt a little uncomfortable then, as if she had lost control somewhere along the way. His silence was worse than if he cursed her. His eyes drank in every single square inch of her black-draped body. She began to feel like a cheap whore dressing up for a john. She was the one on display. There was nothing she could do about it. The chains on her wrists ensured that she simply stand and let him ogle her lush young body.
'Please,' she said, her voice shriller than she had intended. 'Don't just stand there, say something. Anything!'
He nodded, then turned and left the room. She watched him go, bewildered. The red-haired girl knew that Mr. Stanton had liked what he saw. Why was he leaving? Her pussy was churning and paining her. But the pain this time was from the lack of a hard, throbbing cock in it.
She wanted to be fucked again. She not only wanted it, she needed it! The single taste of a good fucking had given her a hunger that wasn't to be lightly denied.
She sat down heavily on the bed, disgusted with herself. She had done something wrong. She didn't look right. She wasn't pretty enough. Something had displeased Mr. Stanton and she took it as a personal flaw. Why wasn't she pretty enough for the man?
'Why?' she cried out loud, clapping her hand over her lips the instant she realized she was speaking aloud. The teenager thought she might summon up a horde of demons if she spoke.
And it seemed she was right.
Dull red lights filled the room making it difficult for her to see. Mr. Stanton returned, stripped to the waist. He had taken off his pants and put on a pair of leather shorts that seemed different to the young girl. Looking more closely, she saw that they laced up the front, much like her corset. The big difference was that this arrangement allowed the man's prick to hang loose in front.
'Here,' he said, tossing her a small bottle. 'Put this on my skin.'
She stared dumbly at the bottle. It was oil.
'Do as I order! NOW!' he bellowed. The shock of hearing him shout at her made Sheryle obey without thinking. She remembered the feel of his whip and his displeasure. She wasn't sure which was worse. The lash of the leather strap only cut her skin. His wrath hurt her to the core of her being.
She moved as far forward as the chains would allow and began pouring the oil into her hand. Smearing it all over his back, she began to massage it into the man's skin. He stood stock still, more of a bronze, than a human. Yet his flesh was warm under her fingers, and for all his apparent skinniness, he had rippling muscles.
The teenager began applying the oil with more vigor. It felt good to rub it into the man's flesh. It turned her on. The heat of the friction between her fingers and his spine made her breathe more heavily. The corset started to cut off her wind but she couldn't stop now. She had to smear even more of the oil across the man's belly.
It was rock-hard. He hardly moved as she worked lower, toward his prick. The cock dangled limply. She wondered if it was dead, if he had left the room and jacked off before returning. The slight tremors in the entire length told her that wasn't likely.
She worked the oil into the man's legs. They were like pillars supporting his upper body. The muscles stood out in bold relief once she had applied the slippery oil. The dim red light made him seem of gigantic proportions. She could hardly believe any man could be so masculine, so virile.
'Mister…' she said meekly. 'Master!'
The word shocked her. She hadn't meant to call this awful person 'master', yet she had. The psychiatrists called that a Freudian slip, saying what she really meant, instead of what she had intended to say.
'Good,' he said. 'You learn quickly and well. Dispense with the oil. I feel its effects on my body and soul already.'
She watched in mute delight as his prick slowly jerked and bucked until it was half erect. Quickly, she dived forward and greedily stuffed it into her mouth. Sucking hard, she nursed on the stiffening cock until it was entirely erect. The plum-tipped end filled her mouth, making her feel more like a woman than ever before.
This was what it meant to be a woman, she told herself. To have a man and to want him – and to be able to please him fully. Hadn't she smeared the oil onto Mr. Stanton's body as he commanded? He loved it! And now the proof of his lust was throbbing hard inside the humid cavern of her mouth.
Her tongue whirled around, stroking and touching lightly in all the right places. She had learned to give a blow job well. Her cheeks went hollow until she thought she would pass out from lack of air.
