Date: Thu, 18 Oct 2007 14:51:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: ben albrecht <orpfynmakyr@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Humbling, chapter 2"

"Humbling, Part 2"

by GrandMoff

	This is a fictional story, intended purely for the entertainment of
readers.  It involves sexual situations between women, i.e. (F/F...)
There's also a bit of domination in this story-though it will take a form
you probably aren't used to seeing. If this offends you, or you can't
legally view this, please don't read the story.  Any resemblance between
these characters and any person is coincidental.

	It was still before 2000 when we reached the shopping center, so we
had over two hours to shop.  I was going to use that time to find clothes
and underclothes that would make my slave look like a goddess and feel like
a complete slut.  But there were a few last minute reminders to give her
before we started hunting.  I parked and I turned to my ravishing
companion.  "Don't speak unless I give you permission, even if someone asks
you a question.  Follow your mistress's instructions immediately, and
you'll do fine."
	"Yes, Mistress."
	I leaned and captured her lips in a kiss.  She responded so
vehemently that I pulled back.  "You are a wanton pussy-slut, but try not
to prove it every time I touch you.  Kiss like someone who might get kissed
again someday, not like a desparate bitch!"
        "Mistress, it's the only way a slave's been allowed to show
affection.  Shouldn't a slave make the most of it?"  Her voice was
frustrated but not complaining.  On her face were the beginnings of that
adorable pout I'd anticipated.
	I couldn't let her win and I couldn't compromise, especially not
this early.  Betraying no hesitance and no desire to let her kiss me any
way she wanted with those divine lips, I said sternly, "Doesn't my slave
believe her Mistress knows what's best for her?"
	"Yes, Mistress," she conceded.
	"Good.  Don't question me again, or the dress will stay in the car
while my slut and I shop.  Also, you'll probably want to cum at some point.
You are no longer allowed to cum unless I give you permission--no matter
what the circumstances."
	That put a bit of healthy fear back into her eyes, and more than a
little excitement.  All she said was, "Yes, Mistress."
	I kissed her again and she kissed back softly and sweetly,
satisfying my demand for more restraint from her.  I had made it clear that
I was still in charge, and we'd both gotten some enjoyment from it.
	We went first to a clothing boutique that tends to offer fashions
that are on the naughty side, intended to be worn by rebellious high school
and college girls.  My slave was pretty embarrassed just by being in the
store, looking at the micro-skirts, abbreviated tops, and racy lingerie.
"I figured we'd buy the tame, everyday wear first," I told her, holding out
a red halter-top-and-short-short set to her.
	She took the clothing.  "Should I try on these now, Mistress?"
	"Yes, and come show me the results.  I'll keep looking; I'll have
more for you to model shortly."  She went toward the change rooms.  I found
a pretty yellow peasant top that could be adjusted to expose from very
little to almost all of her chest, depending on how tightly it was laced.
I also spotted a tan micro-skirt that would go well with it.  Nice for
casual wear, but--ah, there was a shiny black pleather sleeveless top with
matching gloves that reached past the elbows.  Now I was getting somewhere.
There was the perfect counterpoint: tight white linen low-rise pants that
flared at the ankles.  And my slave was returning, excellent!  She matched
the halter and shorts with her red cheeks.  She was displayed quite nicely,
and I motioned her to turn in a slow circle.  Damn, her ass looked great,
and it was just barely covered by the shorts.  This outfit was a definite
winner.
	I held out the next two outfits for her.  "Now you look much more
like the Queen Cheap Slut: very good.  Try these next and don't take so
long this time.  Give me what you're wearing now when you get back, because
we're buying them."
	"Y-yes, Mistress," she replied.
	I found a slinky pink silk camisole top and very short faded pink
denim skirt, and thought those would work quite well with her skin color.
(My slave was not a tanner; she had smooth, pale skin.)  I didn't think I'd
find too much else in the way of garments for her here, so I moved to the
underwear section next.  There were a few that seemed almost good enough,
but my brunette toy had an amazing pair of Cs on her 86 cm (34") chest, and
I was not going to let them be clad in anything but the best bras.  My
slave returned, wearing the peasant top and short skirt.  "Hold still," I
commanded, and I pulled the laces slack until the very tops of her aureolas
could be seen.  I stepped back and watched as she turned her circle.  "Not
quite as nice as the first, but they'll do.  Get into the next outfit now."
She marched away and I returned to my search.
	I was about to stop looking when I noticed a nice pink mesh bra
with little flowers.  It would match her skin tone almost exactly...I had
to have her try it.  She came back in the pink skirt and cami; interesting,
she'd put off the black and white ensemble.  That must have made her least
comfortable, and I could use that knowledge!  She was obviously a bit
embarrassed to be wearing even this.  "Face away from me," I told her, "and
bend at the waist."
	She choked back her protest, but she was shaking with shame and
excitement as she bent over for me.  The skirt was just barely decent: her
butt and her swelling mound somehow remained covered.  "Okay, try the last
one," I said absently, "and put on this bra under it."
	I looked a little bit at some other clothes, but I thought I had
found the good stuff in this store.  My slave returned, looking emotionally
uncomfortable with this outfit; and I admit, it was the sluttiest so far.
The long gloves in particular made her look like a T&A sci-fi movie
starlet.  I took in her ass when she turned and said, "The pants aren't
quite right."  I handed her the same pair with a slightly smaller waist.
She changed, and I was waiting right outside the dressing room when she was
done.
	"Better," I said.  Her super thighs and ass didn't look covered so
much as painted white, thanks to the pants' tight fit.  My slut was turning
pink again as I looked her up and down.
	"Show me everything," I ordered.
	She looked around.  There were two or three other customers in the
area, and a salesgirl was in this section, so I wasn't surprised at her
reaction.  (What were the odds they were paying attention to what we were
doing?  This was a calculated risk.)  "People will see--"
	"--I didn't say you could speak.  Show me the bra."
	Glancing around frantically, she pulled up the short black shirt.
I'd been right about her skin tone; from more than 10 m away, her breasts
must have looked bare.  The flimsy mesh didn't hide her scarlet nipples at
all.  I was salivating!  "Looks good," I pronounced coolly, and she yanked
down her shirt again.
	We took our purchases to the bored-looking cashier.  "Did you
ladies find what you wanted tonight?" she asked semi-politely while she
scanned my credit card.
	"I got a few nice things for my slut," I said, slapping my toy's
ass loudly.  The cashier stared at us open-mouthed; my companion stared at
the floor, her hand shaking in mine.
	"Um, good," the cashier finally answered.
	"No, great.  She's going to enjoy peeling them off for me," I told
her.
	"Well, have a-a nice night, then," the girl at the counter said
hoarsely, almost as embarrassed as my slave. We left the shop, and I felt
the grip on my hand tighten meaningfully.  "What is it?" I asked.
	"A slave...hopes we're done, Mistress."
	"We've barely started!"
	"Then, could Mistress please...keep from..."
	"...What?  Say it, if it's important enough to waste my time."
	"A slave isn't used to this, Mistress!"  Her eyes pleaded with me
to stop.
	By now we'd gotten to the car.  As I unlocked it, I gave her a grin
of pure evil.  "We're putting these outfits in the trunk, except the pink
skirt and cami, which you will wear starting now."
	"Oh no," she whispered.
	"I said now," I told her gently.
	Her quaking hands took the short denim skirt from the bag and she
stepped into it and pulled it up under her dress, as fast as she could.  I
still caught of flash of her pussy, and it was gleaming with her fluids.
She pulled the dress up to her waist and jumped into the passenger side of
my car, then whipped the dress over her head and ducked while she fumbled
with the camisole.  She finally managed to slip into it.  She stared at me,
obviously wondering why she didn't see horns and a tail.  I had looked
around briefly while her vision was obscured by the cami, so I wasn't
worried about being caught.  This would only take 30 seconds, a minute at
most.  I put my hand on her thigh to keep her from going anywhere and
dropped to my knees.  "Spread your legs, bitch.  You have permission to
cum," I said flatly.  I drove my tongue into her soaking pussy.
	"Oh fuck!" she cooed, her hands running through my hair.  I was
right; she came fast, and very hard.  She tasted so good, too.  I was
growing very aroused myself, but I have adamant willpower.  My time would
come.  When I stood again, probably less than a minute had elapsed.
	"Good job, getting off like a trashy whore in a parking lot.  That
bit pleased me, because you stayed true to yourself.  But who told you you
could touch me?"
	"A slave couldn't help it, Mistress; please don't penalize a slave
for that!" she begged.  "Mistress just gave a slave the most
unbelievable--"
	"--Lick your juice off my chin."
	That seemed pretty degrading for her.  I hadn't had this much fun
in a long time.  Her mouth felt very good as she obediently cleaned her own
sex fluids off my face.  When I decided she was done, I had more orders for
her.  "Put the blue dress in the bag with the new clothes.  We're going to
the next store."
	Once her fledgling wardrobe was locked in my trunk, I led my
scrumptious toy to the shopping center's better shoe store.  (It has two,
despite its size.)  She smelled faintly like the pussy-juice I hadn't let
her wipe off her thighs and labia, and I'm sure that was looming very large
in her mind.  We went directly toward the high-heel section.  Predictably,
an eager salesgirl approached us.  "May I help you?" she asked
energetically.
	"Very soon, yes," I answered.  "We're here for sexy shoes and boots
for her."
	"Oh, wanting to impress the boyfriend, huh?" she asked my
companion.
	"No.  She's not allowed to talk to you and I'm making all the
buying decisions, so this will go a lot faster if you address only me."
	The salesgal looked confused.  But I'd been scanning the racks
since we'd entered the store, and I saw a pair of pink suede pumps with 10
or 11 cm heels.  "Do you have those in 39?" I asked.  (That's 25.1 cm, or
10".)  The puzzled salesgirl regained her courteous manner.  She took the
box and went to check for the shoes.  I gave my slave her next bit of
instruction once the girl was out of earshot.  "While your mistress is
looking for shoes, you look for black boots.  They need spike heels no less
than 10 cm and they need to reach at least your knees in height."
	In a couple of minutes, the saleslady had returned and I had killer
pair of crimson stilettos chosen as the next candidates.  "Sit and try on
the shoes," I told my slut.
	She suddenly remembered her short skirt, lack of panties, and the
presence of the helpful salesgirl.  Her look was priceless--helplessness
and incredulity.  She sat with her thighs clamped tightly together and
tried to act as natural as possible while the store employee crouched just
a few cm from her naked vagina and put the wicked shoes on her feet.  My
slave managed to avoid discovery; I was impressed.  She walked slowly in
the heels, feeling relieved to be standing, however temporarily.  "How do
they feel?"
	"Very good...Mistress," she answered, ashamed to call me that in
front of the saleslady.  The saleslady wasn't exactly comfortable with
hearing it, either.  "Okay.  These are 39s too; try them next."  I gave the
red stilettos to our helper and watched with interest.  The salesgirl was
also watching closely--after all, my slut has sensational legs--and it was
her job to pay attention to customers.
	So closely was she watching that my slave couldn't possibly hide
her lack of underwear this time.
	Our salesgirl turned bright red, which made my slave respond the
same way, of course!  Trying to collect herself, the girl turned to me, and
I gave her the smallest knowing smile.  She quickly turned away from me.
	It took 10 seconds for her to steel herself enough to start
assisting my pretty plaything again.
	(I knew she wouldn't say a word.  First, my girl's so cute, it's
hard to object if she's exposed.  Second, this saleslady was earning
commission.  Customers you kick out don't buy shoes and they don't come
back.)
	While my slave walked gracefully in her 13 cm stilettos, I
concluded that there weren't any other shoes I wanted from here.  I had
assigned her to look for boots, and I wanted to see what she'd come up
with, so I chose to observe.  If she didn't find at least one pair to try,
I would look for myself.  "Well?" I asked when she came back toward us.
	"They fit, Mistress."
	"Do 'you' like them?" I asked, implying what I wanted her to say.
	"A slave thinks they're too much," she said, her voice a whimper as
she forced the words past her lips.  I knew she'd never forget this shoe
store!
	"Unless they're uncomfortable, we're buying them," I said.
	"They aren't uncomfortable, Mistress."
	Our salesgirl fled to the back of the store, ostensibly to get the
box for the shoes.  I put my hands on my prize's shoulders.  "Breathe
slowly.  And don't forget the boots."
	"Will there be anything else?" the salesgirl asked when she
reappeared.  She looked determinedly at the carpet in front of me.
	"Possibly; my slave's looking at your boots now.  You know, there's
no need to be embarrassed."
	"I've been...flashed before, but this..." she said, not sure how to
finish.
	"I pretty much made her do it.  Am I a depraved bitch?" I asked.
"You can tell me honestly."
	"N-no, Ma'am," she replied.
	"I'd better try harder then," I said, and I giggled.
	That shut up the salesgirl.
	Presently, the somewhat-calmer brunette returned, carrying a pair
of chrome-toed boots that filled my requirements.  Wordlessly, she and the
salesgirl removed the shoes and slipped on the boots, each pretending that
the other didn't exist.  Still, the employee knew subconsciously that this
was her last chance to look at my slut's pussy and she stole many glimpses,
looking away immediately every time.  If I'd had the inclination, I might
have invited her back with us.  Something stopped me.
	My slave looked resplendent in the boots as she sashayed up and
down the aisle.  Too bad they clashed with her skirt and top, or I'd have
told her to keep wearing them.
	We left the store, the silent brown-eyed beauty now sporting her
sexy pink heels instead of the pumps she'd worn when we arrived.
	I'd been having too much fun; I was worked up, and worse--we only
had half an hour left to shop.  I decided to go for more bras tonight and
work on more outfits, cosmetics, and accessories later.
	All our treasures stowed, we entered the lingerie/novelty shop.
There was no way my slave had been in here before.  I could almost hear her
heartbeat.  I went for the peek-a-boo models first, and saw two I liked:
one ruffled white satin, one soft white leather.  They'd provide great
support and look outrageously hot.  Corsets--oh yeah, they had a nice
selection.  I found a padded royal blue PVC corset that would support her
breasts but leave them comletely exposed.  Definitely a contender.  I also
considered a white cotton corset that would provide support without
coverage and had built-in garter-straps...if I could find nice stockings
for my slave, that look could be irresistible.
	To my surprise, my brunette bitch took the initiative and looked at
the traditional bras while I was busy, picking out three and bringing them
to me.  She'd picked quality merchandise, too.  I dismissed the black
cotton number she'd chosen out-of-hand: it wasn't revealing enough.  But
the sheer white shelf bra had real possibilities and despite its color,
she'd also brought a maroon satin bra that could be really cute.  "Start
trying on these," I said, handing the white and the maroon back to her as
well as the corsets and peek-a-boos I'd selected.
	There were no changing rooms in the store, just a folding screen
one could step behind.  She left to do her task while I looked at the last
type of bras I'd browse tonight: cupless.  Like the corsets, they offered
support only.  I chose one that was hot pink with black lace, one that was
pale pink, and one that was black with white faux-fir trim.
	My slave came back as I was taking my last choice off the rack.
This time I was going to make it a bit easier for her; I led her back
behind the screen.  "We're running short on time, or I'd have you show me
in the middle of the store," I said.  "Hurry.  I'll give the yea or nay
after each and you get into the next one pronto."
	The blue corset didn't fit quite right, and the maroon satin bra
wasn't quite sexy enough, but all the others were lust-inspiring to say the
least.  We left with our purchases a minute before 2200.
	"You did pretty well, all things considered," I told the fine woman
in my passenger seat.
	"Thank you, Mistress.  A slave tried to please Mistress."
	She was definitely fishing for my ruling on whether her behavior
was good enough to be rewarded.  I let her dangle.  "You didn't say I spent
too much.  Am I to assume you can afford your percentage comfortably?"
	"Yes, Mistress."
	"And if we continue shopping tomorrow?"
	"A slave wouldn't object to a few modest purchases, Mistress."
	"They won't be modest.  But they will be inexpensive.  I kept our
purchases inexpensive today as well.  As for your performance, I'm inclined
to think you haven't 'dressed sexy' in years."
	"Only eight months, Mistress.  But a slave never wore anything like
what a slave's wearing now."
	"Your mistress is very pleased with how you look in that ensemble.
My slave has to admit she looks fetching in it."
	"They look better on a slave than a slave expected, Mistress."
	"Your Mistress knows what's best; this is just more proof."
	We had pulled up to a red traffic light, and she noticed we weren't
in the turn lane.  "Mistress, slave quarters are to the left," she said.
	"We're going to my house, not my slut's flat.  We're going to live
there this weekend."
	She looked deliriously happy at that.  "Thank you, Mistress!" she
said, looking like a kid who'd been told Christmas would last a month this
year.

        Part 3 will follow if/when I feel like writing it.  Email
encouragement won't make the process go any slower.