We walk into the shopping centre, I feel unnaturally exposed in a little skirt that just covers my ass, if I stand still, a bikini top that is two sizes too small for me and knee-high boots with 5inch stiletto heels. It doesn't help that I'm also wearing a collar with a leash on it being held by my Mistress, Heather, and that she is tugging me along so I have to run to keep up.
She is wearing thigh-high pvc boots, a black micro skirt and a red vinyl corselet. She holds my leash in one hand and her purse in the other.
We walk into a wig shop and Heather stops to look at a brilliant red, shoulder length wig, she picks it up and sits it on my head, admiring it. The assistant comes over and asks if we need any help, Heather turns to him.
"This is my slut, she needs a wig so she will look like more of a slut,' turning to me,
"If that's possible."
The assistant looks stunned but turns and grabs an electric blue, straight-haired wig with a fringe down to my eyes. He puts it on my head and straightens it up, Heather looks over and nods approvingly, I look in the mirror and realise that I do look sluttier than usual.
"We'll take it, and this red one for myself." Heather picks up a red wig with an identical cut.
The assistant goes to wrap them but Heather says we will wear them.
He walks to the counter and writes out the total. The two wigs cost nearly a hundred dollars combined.
"The thing is sir, I don't have any money but I'm sure this little whore has something she can pay you with." Heather addressed the flustered clerk.
I lean over the counter, the clerk's eyes travelling down to my almost exposed breasts; I kiss him passionately before pushing him away. He smiles and walks into the back room, signalling us to follow him.
We arrive in a dingy room, lit with a single bulb with a chair and desk in the centre.
Heather rummages in her bag and brings out some cuffs; she slaps one on my wrist and the other to the desk.
"Sometimes my slut tries to run away, don't let her." She stares disdainfully at the clerk.
He takes off his clothes and I notice he already has a huge erection, which he waves at me menacingly.
He lifts my skirt and sees that I have no panties on, he rubs his cock on my, now, swollen lips and ass. He tries to slide it into my cunt but I am not wet enough, he pushes and I scream.
Heather slaps me hard across the face,
"You will always be appreciative of a man's advances. You are lucky anyone looks twice at you, you ugly whore."
She is screaming at me now, the clerk looks shocked.
He pushes me across the table roughly, emboldened by Heather's outburst, and kneels over my chest. He leans forward and slides his cock into my mouth, I take most of it but cannot take the whole length. He holds my head in his hands and thrusts with his hips, his cock pushing down my throat and choking me.
I cough but manage to suck him like a lollipop, his eyes roll back in his head and he moans pleasurably.
Suddenly he cums, it spraying down my throat, he pulls out and wipes his cock on my face.
Heather unsnaps the cuffs and we walk out of the store, cum still running down my face.
We walk down the mall, to a shop specialising in clothes for young girls. Heather yanks the leash several times causing me to stumble forward, my skirt flying up and exposing everything to anyone who cares to look. We walk into the shop, they sell nothing for anyone over 15 but Heather starts looking at the clothes with interest. I stand there patiently, feeling every eye in the shop on my almost naked body. Heather returns with a pile of clothes, all of them looking like they would barely cover a 'Barbie' doll.
"Try them on slut, you are to put each out fit on and come out and parade for me, I will then decide if they are acceptably trashy to be worn by a whore like yourself."
She throws the clothes at me and unsnaps the leash so I can walk into a changing cubicle.
The first outfit is a pair of shorts which do not cover the top of my ass and which end only a millimetre below my ass, I wiggle into them and strain to do up the zip. I slip on a matching tank top that is so small my breasts push against the fabric, making my nipples visible. I walk out, the combination of the tiny, constricting shorts and my high-heeled boots forcing me to adopt a mincing walk like an exaggerated model strut.
I stand in front of Heather; she admires me, running a hand up my legs.
"Very acceptable slut, now take it off and give it to me."
I turn to walk into the cubicle but she snaps the leash out, catching the back of my legs.
"I said to take it off NOW you stupid, useless little bitch!"
She is roaring, the whole country able to hear her I think.
I slip off the top and slowly, painfully, inch-by-inch wriggle out of the shorts.
I can see my nipples hard and pink, my pussy lips are puffy and red, they shine with my juices, I also notice my thighs are wet with my juice.
I walk into the cubicle as quickly as I can, everyone staring at me.
How could this sexually excite me? But my body declared it, loud and proud, betraying my mind every step of the way.
I tried on the next few sets of clothes, all insanely small and revealing. For every outfit the humiliating procedure was repeated, I was forced to model the clothes for Heather and then strip naked, if the clothes were unacceptable I had to return them to the rack, naked.
Eventually we settled on a pile of clothes, I dressed and we went to the counter, the cashier giving me a leer.
Heather repeated her routine about having no money; the woman behind the counter winked and kept leering at me. She walked into the back room and Heather pushed me in with her.
"You really have got an outstanding slut this time Heather." The woman addresses Heather as she pinches and pokes me like I am a piece of meat. No wonder she allowed the spectacle of me trying on the clothes, she was a friend and knew what her reward would be.
I was told to kneel and the woman pulled out two spreader bars, which she attached to my ankles and wrists.
