The Red Dress
(c) 2025 by TeddySmutWriter, all rights reserved.
One of my favorite indulgences as a reader is to imagine what I would do in a compelling situation described in another author's work.
This short work was inspired by the story
A Reluctant Sex Instructor Ch. 06
by KyleTaylee. I found the situation between Ezra and Ken compelling and wanted to play with that. The details of how and why are different but the core idea is the same. I hope you enjoy reading this bit of a story as much as I did writing it.
***
The events leading up to Diana being there in the back of the limo as it approached the mansion are not important. Unlike all the other cars, her limo didn't turn left to follow the front drive to where the well dressed guests were unloading. Instead it turned right and pulled into the center bay of the mansion's attached carriage house.
A large man in a slightly dated tuxedo opened the passenger door of the car. Another equally large man in an identical suit reached in and pulled Diana out by her wrist. He did not let go.
The first man grabbed her other wrist. With their free hands on her shoulders the pair marched her toward the main house like she was a dangerous criminal on her way to trial. Her shoes, black three inch heels with red fuck me soles, screeched with protest on the pavers of the walkway as she was compelled to walk at twice her normal gate into the house. She was wise enough not to protest.
After all, that she was here tonight to suffer whatever it had in store was entirely the effect of her own actions.
The two big men brought Diana to a small room of green and gold damask above dark wooden wainscoting The only furniture was a large wing back chair and a tripod holding a video camera. Both of these faced a window onto a larger room.
"Don't sit," one of the men said as the two made their way out.
Diana was left alone. She studied the view through what she assumed was a two way mirror. The other, larger room was brightly lit by chandeliers and sconces--the light glittering off the jewelry of the female guests therein. The floor was parkay, the walls were also done in damask and wainscoting but of lighter shades. Where you would expect portraits on the walls between the sconces were only mirrors.
How many little rooms like this were there?
The people in the ballroom were all dressed well. The suits all fitted the men like only bespoke could and the dresses... the average cost was likely well above four digits. The collective jewelry easily in the millions--mostly diamond chokers and matching earrings.
And here Diana stood in her thrift store red dress and forty percent off pumps from the mall.
A group of the men, perhaps a dozen or so, were lined up taking slips of paper from a three legged Ming Dynasty incense burner. The slips had numbers on them which the men happily pinned to their lapels. Diana was somehow comforted by their bro-like behavior despite suspecting the reason for the numbers.
Three women entered Diana's room. One was a well dressed lady of a certain age and the other two were in black pencil skirts, white blouses, bow ties and domino masks. One of these held a small basket. The lady supervised the two servants first taping cotton wads over Diana's eyes and then wrapping a silk scarf over that.
The two women seized Diana's wrists like two men had earlier. The servants' touch was not as sure and the movements jerkier as they led her from the room into what Diana presumed by the sound was the ballroom. The room quieted as she was brought in.
Diana's blind navigation skills were not great but her dramatic sense was well developed. So, as she was led to a certain spot in the room and her placement carefully positioned, she presumed she was now standing in front of the mirror she had previously been viewing from the other side.
Who was in there watching her? The upper crust lady? Someone else she had perhaps met in recent days? Perhaps it was nobody, merely the camera humming away.
Diana's musing were interrupted by a large bony hand grasping the back of her neck.
"Urmm-ahh, you are mine now," he said. "All mine, all mine, all mine... yesss."
His voice was very deep and rough, bestial--imagine Smeagol with the bollocks of a balrog. The sound washed over Diana's skin like a cold wind across a pond, making shivering waves. Was it real? Deliberately disguised so she would not recognize him? Or just for the effect?
At the moment all that mattered was the effect. She felt her knees wobble.
"No no no, stand straight bitch." Another big hand grabbed my right knee. "You wanted this. Social climbing slut."
Diana started to answer but the two hands on her clutched her so hard all she could do was gasp.
"Quiet!" The hand on her neck pulled upward with surprising strength.
The other hand slowly traveled up her leg, the tips of his fingers digging into her flesh. For Diana time slowed down as that hand moved up under the hem of her dress and approached her crotch. She wasn't wearing panties of course, going commando being a condition she had agreed to for the evening.
