Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance(14)
“I can see that this might be an assignment you’ll enjoy,” Mr. Green said smoothly, apparently noticing the smile. “Karen here will have to serve a great many men at once, someday soon. She’ll be grateful for the help of another girl. Perhaps you’ll be my guest on an occasion like that one…”
The saleswoman, who had auburn hair and green eyes, took the cue. “Lydia,” she said softly.
“Alright, Lydia,” Mr. Green continued. “Karen isn’t available to us that way tonight, or we’d invite you home with her so that we could enjoy you, too. As you’ll see when she tries on the lingerie—don’t worry, we’ll pay for anything that doesn’t fit, or she doesn’t look good in—she’s just recently been bared between her legs. You’ll also see that she was soundly paddled this morning. So she won’t be having any sex today. But I’ll take your number before we go, and be sure to invite you to a little get-together someday very soon.”
Karen managed to lift her gaze once again, then, just for an instant, to see on Lydia’s blushing face that she didn’t have the same reaction to the idea of Karen’s sexual servitude that Karen herself did. To her dismay, Lydia seemed terribly likely to accept Mr. Green’s eventual invitation.
Of course she doesn’t react the way you do: she’s not the one who got inspected, and paddled, and purchased.
Mr. Green and Mr. Singleton went to get a drink at a nearby bar, leaving Lydia with the final instruction that Karen should leave the store in pretty lingerie and a beautiful dress. As she watched them go, Karen nearly gasped at their arrogance in leaving her there. Couldn’t she just run away? Did they think she wanted them to use her as they intended, that even with all the risk and the possibility of going to real prison she wouldn’t just dart out the opposite door to the street and lose herself in the city?
But then she looked up, as she surveyed the big room full of glittering merchandise and smiling, well-dressed women both selling and buying. She saw the cameras. All the cameras: there must be at least ten of them just in her immediate field of view. Her new owners had clearly chosen this store for its elegance, but they must also have known that such elegance came with a robust security budget, and corporate security, Karen thought bitterly, was an inside game. She could hardly even be sure that Mr. Green and Mr. Singleton weren’t sitting in the bar looking at several different angles of video on Karen and Lydia. More to the point, why couldn’t they have slipped the security guards—stationed two to a door—a hundred each to make sure their indentured servant didn’t leave without them.
Karen looked into Lydia’s eyes, and saw the expression there turn from a sort of hunger to one of sympathy. For a moment Karen thought the other woman would say something about the unconventional situation—about the shameful things Mr. Green and Mr. Singleton had said about her status, about the sex and the discipline. She felt her brow knit: how could she bear to talk about it with a woman who had the right to a normal life, who could, it seemed, choose to enjoy the sort of thing that made Karen feel such terrible conflict?
But Lydia’s sympathy must have included an understanding that the other girl didn’t want to talk about it. She said, “Alright, Karen. Why don’t we get the lingerie over with first? Then we can put some beautiful dresses on top of it.”
After that it got easier, even the part where Karen had to take off all her clothes, hoping that Lydia wouldn’t steal glances at her bare pussy, her punished bottom, her little breasts with their too-stiff nipples. She kept her own eyes on the lace, the mesh, the silk, the cashmere. That almost made it worse, because she didn’t know whether Lydia was looking at the private places acquired by Mr. Green and Mr. Singleton.
So it got easier, but not easy. The situation itself meant that when she put on the many pairs of lacy panties Lydia brought she constantly worried that, when they came off and went into the growing stack of items her owners would purchase, the saleswoman would remark on how damp Karen had left every pair, down in the gusset.
But Lydia said only, “Try this,” and “That looks great.”
Lydia selected three sets of lacy thongs and bras, in white, black, and red. She chose a pink baby doll nighty with panties to match. A black bustier. Two garter belt and nylon sets, over which she seemed to pause when Karen had put the first one on over the white thong, in which Lydia had decided she would send the girl home. Karen knew then that Lydia was looking—that something about the sight of Karen in the white garter belt and the suspenders and stockings, together with the lacy white panties and bra, had moved her greatly.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and Lydia blushed deeply. “Are you sure you don’t like it?” the saleswoman whispered. Karen felt her face crumple, and Lydia added in a distressed voice, “Forget I said that. I’m so sorry.” Karen saw tears in the other woman’s eyes.
Lydia hurried out to get the dresses, and things really did get better then, because although Karen had never had a single piece of clothing that might be described as elegant—she had skipped her prom, even—she had always wondered how she would look in the gorgeous dresses you saw the wealthy wearing in videos and pictures on social media.
Lydia chose a blue crepe peplum dress with Swiss lace insets that only came down to mid-thigh and made Karen feel like a starlet on the red carpet. Then she chose a longer black velvet coat dress that Karen tried hard to keep from thinking of as easy to open down the front. Finally the saleswoman brought a pink sleeveless sheath dress that had cutouts in the bodice whose relative modesty seemed to Karen to suggest just how immodest her situation was: it looked businesslike in the mirror, but she couldn’t keep from being terribly conscious of the lace she wore underneath, and the bareness in her panties.