Alex told himself it was just fabric. That was the lie he repeated as he stood in the lingerie aisle, fingers brushing lace that felt far too soft to belong in his hands. They were a pair of baby-blue silk panties with lace-back. They were exactly the kind of soft, feminine thing he craved. His heart raced. The sound of ruffling spooked him. He chose quickly. His hands grabbed a pair of black with lace trim hipsters style panties. At first glance, they could almost pass as practical if someone asked. That too was another lie, though.
The air in Velvet Whispers was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the soft rustle of silk. The lighting was low but targeted to make every satin slip shimmer with an expensive-looking glow. Every direction Alex looked, he was met with a towering wall of bras or a sprawling table of lace panties that looked beautiful but entirely incomprehensible. The air was filled with a hum of upbeat pop music and the hushed, confident chatter of women who clearly belonged there. This made Alex’s own silence feel heavy and conspicuous.
When Alex turned, she was there.
She stood at the end of the aisle, arms folded, head tilted just slightly. The store badge clipped neatly to her blouse read, “Wren.” She was stunning with a fuller figure. Dark hair pulled back tight enough to show the curve of her neck. Her eyes dropped to the panties in his hand and lingered.
“Those would look incredible against your skin tone.” Her voice was low, melodic, and held a hint of a purr.
“I… I was just looking for a gift,” Alex stammered, his face flushing a deep crimson.
Wren stepped closer. Close enough that Alex could smell her perfume. It was clean and sharp. With a wicked smile, she asked, “A gift? Usually, men buying gifts don’t touch the silk with that much… reverence. You weren’t looking for a girlfriend?”
The question was gentle. That was what made it unbearable. Alex nodded once. Wren’s smile was slow and deliberate. She did not look away.
“Interesting,” Wren said. “Come with me.”
“I should just pay,” Alex said, too quickly.
“No,” she replied in a calm and absolute tone. “You should come with me.”
Wren began to guide him, her touch a mix of firm commands and soft, teasing strokes that left Alex breathless. Every movement was orchestrated by her; every gasp he let out was a tribute to her control. Alex surrendered entirely, his initial shyness melting into a desperate, needy compliance as Wren dominated his senses. They turned heading into a fitting room.
Beyond the heavy velvet curtain, he could hear the faint, upbeat pop music of the boutique and the muffled laughter of other shoppers. It felt like they were in a different universe, one where the rules of the outside world and Alex’s own inhibitions simply didn’t apply.
“Take off the polo and the jeans,” she commanded.
With shaking hands, Alex obeyed. He felt small under her gaze as he stripped down, revealing the simple panties he’d worn that morning. Wren leaned back against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes roaming over his slim build with clinical appreciation.
Wren leaned against the wall and crossed her arms again. “Well, those are cute, but these,” she said, holding up the pair of panties Alex had been eying, “Would look cuter on you. Don’t you think?”
Alex could only nod. A part of him knew the door wasn’t locked. He could have stood up, pulled on his jeans, and walked out. But as he looked at Wren, the fear was outweighed by a desperate, magnetic pull. He stayed because he wanted to see how far she would take him. He stayed because, for the first time, someone was seeing the version of him he usually kept hidden.
“Put them on,” Wren said, tossing the baby-blue panties at him.
His breath caught. “Right now?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you are suddenly shy.”
Alex slid the silk up his legs. The sensation was immediate. They were cool, sliding over his skin, hugging him in a way that made him feel both vulnerable and intensely seen. He stood there, his tousled dark hair messy, his glasses sliding down his nose, wearing nothing but the delicate baby-blue lace.
“Turn around,” Wren said. Alex did as he was told. She let out a soft, sharp intake of breath. She stepped forward, her hand reaching out to trace the lace waistband. “Exquisite,” she whispered.
Alex did not know what to say. He felt his body shiver. She guided him to the chair and pressed down on his shoulder until he sat. Wren’s hand slid under his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. Wren’s smirk widened. Her fuller figure loomed over him, radiating heat that made his head spin. She reached up, slowly removing his glasses and setting them on the small side table. Without them, the world was a soft blur, making her presence feel even more overwhelming.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Wren murmured, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, pushing him back until he felt the cool glass of the mirror against his skin. “So shy. So soft.”
Alex swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had spent his whole life trying to be invisible, hiding his desires behind plain clothes and quiet manners. But here, stripped of his armor and standing in lace that felt like a second skin, the weight of her gaze was the only thing that felt real. He realized with a jolt of heat that he didn’t want to hide anymore, at least not from her.
“Turn around,” Wren commanded softly.
Alex hesitated for a fraction of a second, his fingers twitching at his sides, before he slowly pivoted. The mirrors in the suite caught every angle. He saw his own pale, slim, and trembling reflection. Then he saw Wren behind him. She was a vision of controlled power. It made his dick twitch in the silk panties.
“You have such a beautiful back,” she whispered, her breath hitching his heart rate higher. “And this silk… it was made for you. Do you like how it feels? The way it clings?”
“Yes,” Alex choked out.
“Bend,” she said.
The word landed heavily. He obeyed, using the back of the chair to brace him. He did not understand why.
She positioned him with care. One hand at his lower back, the other flattening between his shoulders, arranging him like something meant to be used. When she stepped back, the air itself felt expectant.
When her hand landed, the sting was sharp, but the friction of the lace against his shifting weight was what truly made his breath hitch. He sucked in air, fingers tightening on the back of the chair. The second came slower and more deliberate. By the third something in him had changed.
“That stings,” he muttered.
Her laugh was quiet but amused. She leaned over him, pressing against his side, her breath hot against his neck. “Oh, Alex… look at what we’ve discovered,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re not just taking it. You’re craving it.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Wren’s hands moved lower, the silk of her own sleeves brushing his arms, until her fingers hooked into the lace waistband of the panties. She didn’t pull them down; she simply held him there, her knuckles grazing his hip bones. The tension in the room was a physical thing, thick and electric.
Wren moved one hand to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, gently but firmly forcing him to tilt his head back against her shoulder. From this angle, he was looking up at her, seeing the mischief in her eyes replaced by a dark, hungry intent.
“I think,” she said, her voice a low purr of authority, “that you need to learn how to properly thank me for finding your perfect fit.”
She spun him around to face her, her hands sliding to his waist to pull him flush against the soft, yielding curves of her body. The contrast was intoxicating. The cool silk trapped between his heat and her. Wren took his chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing his gaze to meet hers behind her glasses.
“You’re going to stay exactly where I put you,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over his lower lip. “And you’re going to let me show you just how much power I have over you in this little room.”
She took his hand, her fingers interlaced with his, and guided it downward. She pressed his palm against sleek black leggings, right where the heat was most intense. Even through the fabric, he could feel the slick, inviting warmth of her.
“Seeing you like this,” she whispered near his ear, “learning what you enjoy… it does things to me.”
Before Alex could process the sensation, Wren’s hand shot up, her fingers wrapping firmly around his throat. Without his glasses, her face was a soft, beautiful blur, making the firm pressure of her hand around his throat the only thing he could focus on. She pulled him in, her mouth crashing against his in a deep, hungry kiss that tasted of desire and expensive lipstick.
Alex was dizzy and desperate. His hand moved without permission. His fingers tried to find the waistband of her leggings to explore the damp heat he’d felt. Smack, Wren slapped his hand away.
“Nuh-uh,” Wren chided, a wicked smirk on her lips. “I didn’t say you could touch. You’re here for my pleasure, remember?”
She kept her hand on his neck, maintaining that thrill of control, while her other hand slid beneath the waistband of the panties. Her touch was electric. She found his dick, hard and pulsing, and began to rub it with a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Alex’s head fell against her shoulder, a low moan escaping his throat. With every firm stroke, Wren leaned into his ear, whispering praise and commands, feeding off his undone state. The combination of her grip on his neck and the expert friction of her hand brought him to the edge in seconds.
When the release came, it was explosive, a white-hot blur of sensation that left him trembling and weak-kneed. Wren held him through it, her eyes never leaving Alex’s face.
As the fog began to clear, she stepped back, rubbed her cum covered hand across Alex’s lips. With a devilish smile, she pulled out a silk handkerchief from her pocket. She handed it to him, her expression softening back into that warm, knowing smile. “Clean yourself up, darling.”
Alex did as he was told. He licked his lips, the taste a salty, stinging reminder of his own undoing. He didn’t look away; he couldn’t. He cleaned her hand with a reverence that bordered on worship, knowing that every inch of his skin now belonged to the woman in the green blouse.
“Get dressed,” she said, her voice regaining its authoritative edge. She adjusted her blouse and headed for the curtain. She paused, looking back over her shoulder. “Keep the baby-blue ones under your jeans. I want to know they’re there when I see you later tonight. Don’t be late.”
With a final, mischievous wink, she disappeared through the velvet curtains, leaving Alex alone in the golden light, breathless and forever changed.
