The Apartment Ch 02 4

In Chapter 1, a billionaire, J.R. Crowley, and his wife, Elizabeth, offer a job and a free apartment in their luxury high-rise to Carol, a young woman who is breaking up with her boyfriend and has no place to live. It soon becomes clear what Carol will have to do in return, but that is no problem for the sexually submissive hottie. The characters speak for themselves in the story.

*****

Elizabeth

It's been three days since Carol moved into the apartment, which she absolutely loves. She says she's spent hours looking at the cityscape through the big windows. J.R.'s been out of town, and I've left her pretty much alone. We both needed time to recover from the orgy that first night.

And it really was an orgy, the three of us rolling around naked on our super-sized bed and groping each other like randy teenagers. Carol is like me in that she is aroused by dirty talk and being told what to do. And my husband can be very demanding. We didn't get much sleep that night.

Next week Carol starts on her new job as a marketing specialist in J.R.'s firm. That means she will be showing high-priced real estate to the clients, and she must always be dressed to the nines. Today I'm taking her shopping to make sure she looks her best, both for work and for us. She doesn't know it, but the place I'm taking her sells all kinds of clothes, including some very sexy costumes.

We are having coffee on the terrace before heading out. It's another sunny summer morning. Wispy white clouds make shadows on the water below. A big cruise ship glides by on its way out of the harbor. We are sitting together on the couch, looking out.

"I'll never get over this view," Carol says.

"Me neither. There's always something interesting to see. We spend a lot of time out here, even in the winter."

She puts her cup down on the coffee table and turns toward me. "You and J.R. have been so wonderful, letting me live in this building for free. It's like I'm living a dream. And now you've offered to pay for the clothes I'll need for my new job. It's hard to believe."

I smile and place a hand on her cheek. "Believe it. It's not so strange. You are a lovely woman who enjoys the same type of pleasures we do. You will be adding spice to our life. What is the use of having all this money if we can't use it to indulge our passions?"

Carol blushes. "I've never met a woman like you, so open and uninhibited. Doesn't J.R. ever make you jealous?"

"Not anymore," I chuckle. "I was worried at first, but he's always open and honest with me, and involves me in his amorous activities whenever he can. I make sure he knows he would never find another woman who would be so supportive of his sexual behavior. And I'm fulfilled in the process."

"Surely some women have tried to take him from you."

"Oh yes. I have sensitive antennae. Women like that get what J.R. calls 'the treatment'."

"What's that?"

I smile. "One of my husband's kinks is watching me physically punish women who displease me. In most cases it's fun for all, but sometimes..."

"Ohh..."

"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure that will not be a problem for you."

She grins and shakes her pretty head. "Oh no, not me."

"Good," I say, patting her knee. "Tell me, honestly, how do you feel about the night we spent together, and the things we did?"

Now she is really blushing. "My goodness," she stammers. "Did it really happen? It's a bit blurry after all that wine."

"Oh it happened all right. And I think you enjoyed every minute of it. I know I did."

"I can't deny that," she says, looking down.

"Are you ashamed by your wonton behavior?" I ask innocently.

She raises her head and holds her eyes on mine. "I'm still processing it all. On one level it does seem degenerate, but I remember it feeling so natural at the time. And so very exciting."

"So true," I say. "Following our instincts is nothing to be ashamed about. You satisfied yourself and pleased us at the same time. J.R. was thrilled by your responsiveness."

"He was so commanding, the way he ordered us to do all those things to him... and to each other. I was surprised I could be so submissive."

"J.R. is the true alpha male. Females like us respond to being treated firmly. Have you ever watched a group of female ducks on a pond being shepherded around by the big male? When one of them gets out of line he pecks her back into compliance."

Carol laughs. "I know a lot of women who would resent being compared to ducks in a harem."

"So would I. It's only in the bedroom that I accept, and relish, that kind of treatment. My point is that we should accept that in some ways we are like other animals."

"Does J.R. often bring other women into your bedroom?"

She might as well know the score. "Fairly often. He has his little harem." I squeeze her knee. "Sometimes I bring them."

Again, she laughs. "Why am I not surprised?"

Smiling broadly, I kiss her on the cheek. "You are a real find, my dear. Keep going with the flow and we are all going to get along just fine. Now we should be off. Lots of interesting shopping to do."

Carol

We take the elevator to the parking garage in the basement. I'm looking forward to trying on expensive outfits I never could afford. How many will she buy me? It's so strange not having to worry about money.

Elizabeth's car is a sporty little Mercedes. We settle in and head out. I'm wearing a short skirt, which rides up to mid-thigh in the low seat. She glances at my legs and gives me a wink. I blush and wiggle my hips in an attempt to cover more of myself.

"Don't do that on my account," she titters. "You have great legs. We'll find some clothes to show them off."

"Okay," I say, putting my hands in my lap. "You're the boss."

She laughs. "No. J.R.'s the boss. But I'm top cat in the harem."

I can't resist expressing the thought that pops into my head. "And I'll bet you're good at keeping all the pussies in line."

That elicits a guffaw, as she almost drives up on the sidewalk. "You bet your ass," she exclaims.

That's exactly what I'm doing, I think. Literally betting my ass that I'm on a course that is right for me. I relax back into the soft leather and enjoy watch the buildings zip by. In a few minutes we pull up to the entrance of a fancy boutique. A valet is ready to take the car. We climb out, me showing a lot of leg.

"This place specializes in business outfits for young women with good figures," Elizabeth says over the hood of the car. "We should be able to find three or four that will be suitable."

We enter a luxuriously appointed shop that is much larger than it appeared from the street. Comfortable chairs and mirrors are strategically placed in groupings so that clothes can be modeled for a small audience in semi-privacy. Two of the spaces are occupied, with customers pirouetting in front of their male companions.

"As you can see, husbands and boyfriends come here to participate in the selection process," Elizabeth comments. "Female friends too. It's a friendly atmosphere."

An attractive and elegantly dressed middle-aged woman approaches us. "Good morning and welcome, Ms. Crowley. It's a fine day for shopping. What is your pleasure?"

I'm impressed that Elizabeth seems to be well-known in this place. She must spend a lot here.

"This is my friend, Carol. She will be showing real estate for J.R. and needs a number of appropriate outfits—conservative but sexy. Her customers will be both women and men, but the men are usually the decision-makers. The goal is to make them want to return for a second showing."

"I understand," says the salesclerk. "Welcome, Carol. My name is Sharon. If you will come with me, I'll seat the two of you in a private area and bring you some suggestions. You can try on any that you like."

Wow, I think as we follow Sharon toward the back of the store. This place is a far cry from Macey's. And who is that handsome, middle-aged man behind the counter? Must be the owner. He nods to us as we pass. Elizabeth stops and gives him a big smile. Do I detect a wink as well?

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he says familiarly. "Who is your attractive friend?"

She maneuvers me in front of him. "Carol, I would like you to meet Harold, the owner of this establishment. I will want his comments on our selections, from the male point of view. He has excellent taste."

"You are too kind, Elizabeth," he says with a winning smile. "Pleased to meet you, Carol. Let me know when you're ready for me to join you."

I thank him and we proceed down the aisle. Along the way Sharon gathers some clothes off the racks. We reach an alcove in the back corner and Elizabeth indicates I should sit with her on the padded bench along the wall.

Sharon hangs the clothes on a hook and turns toward us. "Choosing outfits that are both conservative and sexy is an art," she says knowingly. "To be conservative you can't be showing much skin, but by having a snug fit in the right places you can still be sexy. It's also important to have the right underwear. Not only can it shape your figure, it also can make you feel sexy, which in turn makes you sexy."

"So true," agrees Elizabeth.

"You mean like a girdle?" I ask.

"Not in your case," laughs Sharon. "Or Elizabeth's. But sometimes it is a good idea. You are fortunate in having nicely-sized breasts, so a flattering bra will be important."

I think about the ordinary bra and panties I'm wearing. Where is this going? I'm starting to wonder about this salesclerk's sexual proclivities. I listen as she continues her tutorial

"Another way of dressing in a way that is both proper and sexy is to use accessories to cover your charms, but that can be easily removed. For example, a loose vest over a tight sweater, or a neck scarf draped over exposed cleavage."

I look at Elizabeth and note the colorful shawl hanging over her tightly contained breasts. She smiles.

Sharon continues. "Fortunately, pantsuits are still in style, and we can fit them in a way to highlight an attractive derriere. We make the suit coat extra-long to hide the view, unless of course the wearer gets too warm and decides to remove the jacket."

"Lots of little tricks," I say.

"Yes, indeed," says Sharon. "Let's start with this tailored pantsuit. The dressing room is right over there. Inside you will find a selection of our special bras of different sizes. Try them till you find one that's comfortable. Please put the rejects in the hamper to be washed before we use them again. You will, of course, get a new version of the one you chose."

"I'll help her," says Elizabeth, rising from the seat. "Come along, dear."

What choice do I have? I can't imagine giving up that fantastic apartment. Where would I go? I tell myself that I have no alternative but to do whatever Elizabeth and J.R. tell me. But deep down I know that's what I want anyway.

Sharon hands me a hanger containing the clothes and I follow Elizabeth through the door. The dressing room is huge, with several benches and lots of mirrors. On one wall is a multi-level shelf full of small boxes, each with a label.

Elizabeth is all business. "Take off your top, dear, and we'll find a good fit. These bras are really special."

Elizabeth

What I have not told Carol is that this boutique is owned by J.R. He financed Harold's idea to develop ultra-high-end sexy clothing, including a new line of bras. The two of them had a great time experimenting and trying out different versions on willing subjects. I was in on a number of their test runs, which invariably ended in wild parties.

The final design is basically a push-up demibra, perfectly fitted and made of quality materials that are very comfortable. The cups support and mold the breasts to create both an inviting cleavage and the pointed, conical shape that men find sexy. The fit is crucial, and when done right, the woman's nipples will be in little windows, which are covered with shades make of a silky material that invites stimulation. There are scores of sizes, shapes, and window positions.

Carol takes a breath and begins to unbutton her blouse. She seems uneasy, but resolute. I'm glad we had that little philosophical talk before coming here. I think she is determined to overcome the cultural pressures that have suppressed her sexuality.

"What is your normal bra size?" I ask.

"I usually take a 34C," she says, shrugging off her shirt and handing it to me. From behind her Sharon deftly unclips Carol's bra. It falls away and her tits spill out, leaving her with a surprised look on her face and rapidly hardening nipples.

Sharon joins me and cocks her head admiringly. "Very nice. Quite perky for their size. I think the quarter-moon style with a two o'clock window will be about right."

I nod. "Let's try it."

Selecting a box, Sharon extracts a skimpy black bra and hands it to Carol. "Not much to it," Carol observes.

"You don't need much support," I say. "Less covering, more allure. As long as the positioning is right. Try it on."

She slides the straps over her shoulders and maneuvers the cups into position. All the attention to her breasts has brought her nipples to full extension. Carol blushes easily, and she's blushing for sure now. It's a charming picture.

All the bras have hooks in the front, at J.R. insistence. He loves to watch the effect as he pops them open. Carol secures hers and looks in the mirror.

"Oh my. My nipples are showing," she exclaims.

"Shift the cup so that your nips are in the cut-out windows," says the salesclerk. "That's it. How does that feel?"

"Very comfortable...but I don't think the silk fabric over the window is thick enough to keep my nipples from poking knobs in the blouse."

I laugh. "That's the idea. The top will be a tight fit, leaving little doubt about the location of your little pleasure points. But remember, this outfit includes a jacket that keeps you covered until you want to switch from conservative to sexy."

Sharon moves closer and pushes against the bra with two fingertips. "I think the window position is a little off. We should try the two-thirty version."

"Hey!" cries Carol, backing off from the woman's touch. I react immediately.

"Stand still, Carol! Hands at your side. Sharon knows what she's doing."

Carol complies, looking straight ahead as the salesclerk nudges her nipple around in the window. Sharon ends up by plucking the nipple up through the opening. It's gripped by the window's silk membrane, with all its sensitive surfaces exposed. I've watched J.R. do the same thing many times, and it invariably gets a strong reaction from the woman being fitted.

"Ohhh...," Carol gasps, coming up on her toes. The scene already had her turned her on, and the salesclerk has upped the temperature. Having your nipple twirled in soft silk can do that.

"Hold still, Carol," I order. "Shoulders back. I want you to see how the right clothing can make your feel so sexy. Then you will be sexy and sell more real estate."

Sharon

I love this job! Customers like Elizabeth bring in all kinds of lovely girls for me to dress up and play with. I think back to the beginning, when I was one of those submissive trainees and hardly knew what a dominatrix was. Now I am one. Harold's original nympho has moved on.

Carol's nipple is fully erect as I massage it with the soft silk. She closes her eyes and pulls back her shoulders, offering herself. If this continues we'll have to take her into the backroom.

"That's enough for now," says Elizabeth. "We need to get on with buying outfits that will make her successful in selling real estate." She winks at me. "Then we can have her try on some other styles."

Oh goodie! We will be taking her into the backroom. I wonder if Elizabeth will let Harold have his way with her new friend. At the very least I'll be able to give her a going over.

With a final pinch of the engorged nipple, I unhook the bra and slide the straps down her arms. I throw the garment in the hamper and select the box containing the two-thirty version of the same style and size. The only difference is that the 'window' is in a slightly different position.

Carol puts on the new bra, and it fits perfectly, with her nipples centered in the windows. Elizabeth steps forward and places a fingertip on each one, bringing them rapidly to attention. This girl obviously has super-sensitive breasts. Yum.

"Very good," Elizabeth says. "Now drop your skirt, dear, so you can put on the pantsuit."

Nice long legs, slender ankles, and a bubble ass. Yum, yum. Awful, high-waisted panties, but I know Elizabeth will buy her a bunch of sexy ones before they leave. We have quite a selection in the backroom. She steps out of her high heels and smiles, posing like a paper-doll, ready to be dressed.

Carol

I never expected shopping with Elizabeth would like this, but it's flattering having other women admire your figure. Maybe I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, as well as a submissive. There's no doubt about my being sexually aroused by this scene. My titties are still tingling.

Sharon hands me the blouse. It's made of a soft, white fabric that feels expensive. The lapels are sculpted in a frilly pattern that will look very feminine under the suit jacket. I slip it on. The fit is good over my shoulders, but very tight on my chest. Surprisingly, there are no buttons, but instead tiny, hidden Velcro patches strive to hold the sides together over my thrusting boobs. Somehow I manage to 'button-up' all the way to my neck. My breasts are clearly outlined, with the nipples poking out. It's a good thing I'll be wearing a suit jacket.

"Very nice," says Elizabeth. "Closed up all the way like that you will look prime and proper in the suit. But the advantage of the hidden fasteners is that you can open it up and show as much cleavage as you want without it being obvious that you've deliberately undone some buttons."

"Oh, I see..."

"Yes," agrees Sharon. "You'll be able to adjust your appearance 'on-the-fly', so to speak, depending on the situation."

Elizabeth laughs. "On-the-fly indeed. A male sales prospect's 'fly' may give you feedback on whether you're showing enough flesh. Now open it up a bit and try on the pants."

The suit pants are a rich dark blue, cut for a slender appearance. I step in carefully and pull them up over my hips. An elastic band grips my waist, and another one pulls the fabric tight under my butt. Looking at my side profile in the mirror I see my rounded ass protruding like it's asking to be groped. I step into my high heels and the bulge is even more pronounced. Again, I'm thankful I'll be wearing a jacket, presumably long-tailed.

"Turn around for us, my dear," says Elizabeth from her seat on the bench. "That's it. Very pretty. But I wonder if it's too tight in the rear. Sharon, would you please check for me."

Here we go. Is Elizabeth testing me by offering me to this dyke of a salesclerk? I stand looking head-on into the mirror as Sharon pulls up a stool and sits behind me. Her hands on my ass are gentle, but cover every surface, lightly squeezing and making no pretense to be ascertaining the fit of the pants. It's humiliating, but at the same time strangely exciting.

Sharon's manipulations continue for a full minute. The only sound in the room is all of our deep breathing. Finally, she withdraws her hands.

"The fit is perfect," she says in a low voice tinged with excitement.

"What about in the crotch?" Elizabeth asks innocently, her tone also laden with sexual implications.

"Yes, that might be a problem. If she will spread her legs I can check."

"Carol..."

Elizabeth's wish is my command. I step each foot to the side. Sharon's hand comes up between my open thighs. A fingernail briefly scrapes the fabric over my pussy. Then she begins pulling at pants, acting like she's determining the tightness of the fit. Each time her fingers move to a new area she pokes upward and wiggles her fingertips. At one point, abandoning all pretense, she teases my panties against my clit. I close my eyes and stifle a moan. My hips begin a slow rotation. I can't help it.