He steers her through the aimlessly milling shoppers, his right hand pressed firmly against her lower back.
She likes that. A tingle of excitement runs down her spine. Could Seth be the one she has been looking for, for so long?
She has dated a few men, including older men the same age as Seth, looking for someone who understands her sexual desires and needs. Someone who could be her partner in experimenting and understanding her sexuality.
None of them worked out. Not because they weren't attractive, or reasonably open minded about exploring sexual fantasies, but rather because they were just so unimaginative.
She identifies strongly as a submissive but all too often she found that she had to take the lead with these men, who typically claimed to be "dominant" but were anything but.
She is no prude. A frequent visitor to local sex clubs and BDSM events, she has a pretty good idea of what turns her on. It has just been a mission to find that somebody who could flip her switches.
When she and Seth started exchanging direct messages, it had started off very promising. Seth was so different from the others she was texting with or had gone on play dates with. He didn't so much slide into her DMs as he crashed, headfirst, and then completely obliterated her mind with his quirky, on point messages.
However, her optimism soon waned. Seth had a good sexting game, but he remained uncommitted to taking things any further than just texting.
Until, to her surprise, from complete vanilla to knife play, he had suggested this coffee date.
Her thoughts are interrupted when he squeezes her back and steers her into a clothes shop. She hesitates, half stopping in her tracks.
"What are we doing?" She says, "Are we going shopping now, Sir?"
Really, what is up with this guy? Surely, given the size of his erection and the waterfall between her legs, shopping should be at the bottom of the list of "let's go have fun"?
He chuckles and pushes her rather forcefully forward and into the shop.
"You have no idea how much fun you are about to have, Fuck Bunny."
He takes a moment to gather his bearings, before steering her to the woman's clothing section. It is a large shop, one of the national chains of department stores that seems to sell everything to all ages.
He stops at a row of dresses hanging on a rack. He pulls one out, shakes his head in disapproval and repeats the process several times, until, at last, he takes one from the rack and holds it up.
"I like this one." He says.
"No self-respecting Fuck Bunny walks around in jeans and a t-shirt."
She looks at the dress. It is pretty. A little summer dress, with thin straps over the shoulder, a low-cut V top and... and, quite short.
"You will look great in this." Seth says, then continues, "I mean, I would have preferred something a bit shorter, but I don't think they sell what I would really want to dress you in, here."
She nods, uncertainly.
"I know its not purple, but I already bought you something purple today." He says, head cocked to the side in a mocking gesture.
Reluctantly she takes the dress from his outstretched hand. Out of habit she looks at the price tag. Holy moly, it may be a chain department store, but the dress is way more expensive than anything she would ever have had the budget to buy.
Having just started her own practice, money was, tight, which mirrored the condition of her pussy.
"Sir?" She shifts uncomfortably, "I don't feel comfortable with you buying me a dress, Sir."
"Who said I am buying it for you?"
She gulps.
What does that even mean?
Does he imply that she will have to pay for the dress herself? That is a bit forward. She is flat broke. And even if she was not, she would never spend this much, just for the amusement of somebody she has just met.
She is not sure how to broach the subject.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. This is one of the downsides of being naturally submissive.
"Let's go try it on. I insist." He says.
She frowns.
The bullet vibrator inside her comes to life in the same unexpected way Seth had crashed into her DMs. It is a persuasive argument, if only to get her to go with him to the changing room so she can be somewhere private and not have to worry about people seeing her squirm and clenching every limb together, like a reverse contortionist.
What the fuck is she getting herself into?
She feels the familiar urge to take flight. This is what she has always done when confronted with something she felt she couldn't deal with. Run. But running has not always worked out.
Running has landed her head over heels in things she didn't want and are unable to deal with. This is how she ended up way outside her comfort zone, in her own practice long before she was ready for it. It was entirely her fault. She allowed her insecurity to force her into resigning and then doing her own thing, as a consequence of having bolted, rather than to confront her previous employer about how she felt she was being treated unfairly, and, more importantly, disrespectfully.
Fuck. Running isn't always a great idea then.
She bites her lip, which she does far too often, points her chin determinately forward and allows him to steer her to the changing rooms at the back of the shop.
Seth doesn't let up on the intensity of the vibrations in her pussy. She feels her pussy leaking against her inner thighs. She is convinced everyone can hear the buzzing inside her. Everyone must be staring at her.
Judging her.
Yet, when she looks around furtively, nobody seemed to give a damn about her. Nobody is staring at her, pointing at her, laughing behind hands clasped over their mouths or ranting in damned outrage at her sin.
Ok, you can do this. Everything is going to be all right.
Until it suddenly isn't.
Seth, unexpectedly, veers off, and seconds later Little Vixen finds herself looking at rows and rows of shoes.
Because he has changed plans, and directions on her again, it leaves her afloat in a sea of waves of uncertainty, exposed to drown. Fears, she would rather not have to deal with. She needs to know what is happening. With Seth, it seems she will never know the next step. This uncertainty is new to her. And, naturally, makes her wet.
Very wet.
He was always unpredictable in his texts but experiencing his unpredictability in real life, is very different to anything she knowns.
"I love heels." He says.
Of course you do, she thinks.
He scans the shelves and picks out a pair of silver strappy heels, the heel medium height.
"These would look great on you and will go super well with the dress."
The buzzing in her pussy has finally become too much to bear. She looks around in panic. She is going to cum.
Right here.
Now, in plain view of all the stay-at-home moms and the grannies.
He hooks the heals on his index finger and saunters off towards the changing rooms.
She stands still for a moment. Too petrified to move, watching him walk nonchalantly with the dress draped over his arm and the sparkly shoes dangling from his finger.
Her panic grows.
The familiar tightening of her pussy muscles does not lie.
