She walked past the shop again, the one she often browsed the vintage clothes through the window of but never went in because it never seemed open and had never displayed its hours. She stopped again. That dress. It was perfect. If only she could try it on but looking at the door…she almost gasped. The sign turned to open. At long last.
She pushed the door open to the jangle of bells above her head and stepped timidly inside letting the door go and jumping as it closed more heavily than she had expected and then very quiet except the muffled sounds of the cars on the street outside. There was something strange about the shop. Almost a timeless quality. No, not timeless. As though it had closed its door in 1950 and stayed closed for 70 years, opening especially for her today. Racks of frocks along walls, fancy hats and fascinators displayed higher and almost out of reach, in one part stood rows of paired heels waiting for attention and, in lines through the middle, blouses and skirts and tops and accessories in myriad colours, all waiting to be gazed on and touched and oohed and ahhed over.
“I may help you.” The voice had the slightest accent she couldn’t place. European, maybe French or Italian. What a peculiar thing to say. Not ‘May I help you?’ Not a question or offer but a statement and implying she may well not.
“Oh yes, yes please…” Scanning the attractive woman who she could not place an age on for a name badge.
“You may call me Madame. This is my shop.” That way of talking again. Giving permission.
“Tha…thank you, Madame. It is a beautiful shop. I was wondering about the dress in the window. The black one with the white and red polka?”
The shop owner nodded and looked over her customer for a moment. “Yes. I approve. It would look well on you. Go back to the changing room and take off these.” A gesture at the skirt and blazer and blouse she wore to work. “I will get the dress. Quick quick. We don’t have all day.”
She went back and found a slightly confined area of three walls and a curtain on a rail making the fourth, slipping past and noting a long ornate mirror on one wall and a chair in the corner reducing the space still further. Taking off her clothes one by one and carefully folding and placing on the chair, seeing her reflection in the mirror. By simple luck her black stockings and red suspender belt and black panties and red bra were perfect for the dress in the window. She closed her eyes for a moment and dreamed of wearing these and the dress and meeting someone and being taken to a glamorous hotel where people looked at her while they walked through the reception to the elevators and reaching the room and turning to have the fastenings undone and letting the dress fall to the floor and stunning whoever she was with by her beauty framed in red and black. Then she opened her eyes and sighed at her reflection in the mirror. She was dreaming. Running her hands over the fold of flesh which spilled over the garter belt, looking at the insides of her thighs and hating how they pressed together, turning a foot and feeling her legs swelled upwards rather than tapered down like the pictures of those perfect women she saw on her websites, turning more so she was almost facing away from the mirror and looking over her shoulder at her behind – too large. She felt like a pig… who would want to take her to a lavish hotel ever? It was at this moment that the shop owner drew the curtain back fully and she turned quickly, feeling examined which, indeed she was by an appraising eye.
“Very beautiful.”
“Excuse me…I don’t understand.” She was already trying to breathe in and tensing muscles to draw in her stomach as much as she could, backing away so the stretched panties over her bottom would be less reflected in the mirror, hands and arms protectively over her body.
“Very beautiful. Your lingerie.” The woman understood now – the underwear she chose so carefully for herself in anticipation of being seen but not her; of course not her.
“Thank you.”
“And underneath. Of course underneath. That body. Such a beautiful body for such a beautiful lingerie. And now a beautiful dress. To cover the true beauty and slowly reveal to someone who deserves and will adore such sights.”
The woman could not believe her ears. She felt that surely this elegant woman of indeterminate age, maybe in her forties or fifties but still with scarcely a flaw on her face or on her body from what could be noted. She tried to make an awkward joke, “I wish everyone felt that way! I could certainly lose a few poun…”
The older woman leaned forward and placed a finger on her customer’s mouth, putting a stop to the self-deprecation. “You may not agree but you may not disagree with me. Do you not see it as I do? You are a beautiful woman and dressed as you should be. Like a gift. You should be unwrapped and stroked and explored and pinched and caressed and slapped. Your boyfriend should feel lucky to have such a bountiful treasure in his hands and in his bed.”
She could only blush as she listened and that became deeper at the mention of a boyfriend, her eyes looking anywhere but at the woman gently lecturing her with a finger on her lips. The shop owner noticed immediately.
“So. No boyfriend. No man. Then that will be their loss, will it not?” Her voice becoming a little sterner, taking her finger away and a step back. “These though. These are ugly. These are not suitable at all for the dress or you. Take them off.” The woman looked down at the flats she always wore to work and slipped them off her feet one of which she used to shove them under the chair. “Good. Now these are the shoes for a dress like this and here is the dress. Put them on.”
She waited a moment for the woman to draw the curtain and give her back her privacy but soon realised in the way the woman stood with a hand on one hip and stared at her that it was not to be which was confirmed by a “Quick. We do not have all day.” So she stepped into the dress and pulled it over her head and let it slip down over her body providing much wanted concealment and, even before she turned for the shop owner to do up the zip and brush aside her hair to fasten at the top, she knew it was a perfect fit as were the shoes. She felt for a brief moment like Cinderella as she looked at herself in the mirror before a hand clasped hers and led her out to a more open space in the shop itself.
“Stand here. Stay still. Let me look at you. Yes. Very good. Almost perfect. Now lift the hem. More. Let us see your legs. Perfect. The way those heels accentuate those legs. Strong yet soft legs, the kind a lover will adore when they fuck you and you wrap around in your excitement. You have a body for…” lowering that accented voice as the woman stood with the hem of the dress at her knees, “…for fucking. Higher. Don’t make me wait. I must see to the tops of those stockings, the flesh, the red strips of the belt, the knickers and you know it. We must make sure everything is just so including you and your body.”
The woman swallowed and continued to raise her dress, material bunching up in both hands, reaching the tops of the stockings pushing a little into her upper thighs causing her pale skin to bulge slightly out above and continued to raise higher and reveal more listening to a commentary from the woman watching.
“Yes, there… so lovely. The pale skin, hidden by the clothes but so much more beautiful. Who would not want to see this revelation, this undressing as you show your soft hidden places. Only a fool would not want to kiss, to leave the trace of their teeth marks, to slap and have you spread. The red and the black framing the ivory underneath.”
By now the dress was around her waist and the black panties were clearly shown. She could fall the sightest wetness on them and swallowed again. The owner’s voice changed again, efficient and professional now. “Now drop it and turn. We must check the behind.” Describing a circle in the air with a finger pointing down.
She turned in place, looking at the contents of the shop, no longer able to see the owner of it, only able to hear her voice.
“That is very nice but it doesn’t show off what can be uncovered enough. Bend at the waist.”
She did.
“More”
She did.
“What did I say regarding making me ask for more?”
She bent further till her body was almost at a right angle to her legs. She knew in her heart what was coming next. She held her breath as she felt the other woman move closer and a hand on the small of her back and following the curve backwards and down and she only released the breath in a gasp when she felt the material of the dress passing over stockings and skin and knickers, her behind exposed in the shop, cooler now uncovered. A little cry when she felt fingers in the ealstic.
“Please…”
“Do you not want to look perfect? To be sure? Do you not want me to check”
“I.. please. Can you check me?”
“Of course.” With that the panties were rolled down, a band of black running high along her thighs and she was staring at the floor thinking of how she was being inspected.
“So beautiful. You think this creamy behind is fat, don’t you? It is not. It is perfection. So beautiful and full and fine. You should be proud of it. You were born to bend and show it off and have it displayed. There is just one flaw.”
Her voice was weak. “There is? I’m sorry.”
“Do not apologise. It is only a flaw of colour. The dress, the stockings, the garter, the panties. What colour are they?”
“Red and black.”
“Precisely. But this arse is like a moon. So white, so pale. Beautiful in the sky but not in this dress. It needs to be red, does it not?
Y…ye. Yes.” She knew. She knew what was coming. She prayed the shop owner would never notice the shine of cream she could feel on her cunt and so pressed her legs tighter together.
“I will make it red. Ask me. Ask me to dress you perfectly.”
“Please…please make my bottom red. Make me…dress me perfectly.”
The first strike was hard and she jolted forward and tried to stand but the woman’s other hand on her back prevented it.
“Stay very still. Stay in place.” She reached a hand to the closest rail of clothes for support and then it was a storm on her behind. Feeling waves of heat and hurt rolling through her cheeks as that hand came down again and again without pause. The hangers on the rack shaking and bouncing and almost but not quite covering her cries and sobs and soon tears were running down her cheeks but it felt so wonderful and she felt such release and thanked the world for her arse being able to take this beating, being made perfect and her pressed together thighs became slick with the dripping of her cunt.
Suddenly, it was over. Quiet, except her sobs with no more sounds of palm on skin and the rattling of the hangers. The heat and pain in her all that remained.
“Now that is perfect. You fit the dress. You match the redness of it and that belt and the heels.” Gentle taps on her thighs. “Place your feet apart.”
She didn’t want to because in doing so she would show the excitement she had felt, the wetness of her lips and upper thighs but still she placed them apart from each other in their red heels. A hand reaching between, pressing past panties still around thighs and pressing a finger along glistening lips. “You know it too. This fits you, suits you. You are going to have an orgasm for me. Use your finger on your clitoris.”
The woman nodded and reached a hand under the hem of the dress hanging down from her, finding a way past the panties and to her clit and as she began to rub the woman who had spanked her glided fingers along those lips and then pushed inside.
“This is so very very you. Tell me.”
The other hand still gripping the rail and clothes swaying gently.
“This…oh goodness….It is me. This is me.”
The woman slipped a finger inside her, stirring inside.
“Have your climax.”
And that was enough as she shook and rubbed herself and felt herself penetrated. Holding even tighter to the rail, using all her strength to stop herself from collapsing to the floor.
It took minutes to recover herself and when the shop owner handed her tissues she also realised that her knickers and the dress were back in place. Thnking the woman she wiped her fingers and handed them back while the woman gave her a bag in return.
“Your clothes. All except those hideous shoes you were wearing. Those are trash and they belong in the trash and they will go in the trash.”
“But the dress isn’t mine. Nor the heels. How much do I owe you?”
“You may keep them.”
“I don’t understand…”
“You may keep them. I only require one payment.”
“How much?”
“One. One climax. Your next one. You will return here at the same time next week and I will dress you again perfectly in every way and you will give me your payment of your next climax. That is very important – it must be your next. Not second next or third. If you steal those from me, I will know and I will be very angry. Do you understand?”
“I can’t come until…until I come back?”
“Exactly. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“And you will not steal my climax?”
“No, I won’t. I promise.”
“Good. Then go. Until next week.”
The woman took her bag of clothes and walked to the door wearing her perfect red dress with a burning and matching red arse and opened the door to the jangle of the bells again.
“One thing.”
She stopped and looked around at the elegant woman who was already beginning some other job but looked up, “You will not require your negligee next time. Wear nothing underneath. I have some items perfect for you.”
