"Touch yourself for me."
I can hear his voice so clearly in my head, it sounds like he's standing right beside me. I turn but he's not there, just the four walls of the dressing room. The bench is piled with the creamy laces and colorful silks and satins of the lingerie I've been trying on. There's a small shelf, just big enough to hold my wallet and my phone. My clothes, hanging on the hooks on the wall, are reflected in the mirrors.
The mirrors also reflect my body, clad now in a deep crimson negligee, the chiffon so diaphanous and sheer, it seems to float around me. So sheer that I can see my nipples and the shadow at the apex of my thighs.
"Mmmmm."
His murmurs of appreciation may only be imagined but I can definitely sense his approval. I twirl a bit in the mirror causing the fabric to brush deliciously against my tightening nipples. I feel so sexy in this outfit.
"I said, 'Touch yourself.' Now."
His voice is still at the same quiet level, but the intensity has definitely increased. I no longer hear a request, but a command. I shiver and whisper a quiet "yes, sir" and slide my fingers over my breasts.
"Yes. That's my good girl."
I hold my breasts in my cupped hands and slide my thumbs back and forth across the nipples. It's quiet in the small room, so quiet I can hear the faint rustle of the fabric as it caresses my skin. I watch myself in the mirror, lost in my reflection, seeing what he sees as he watches me touch my body until the sound of the store's loudspeaker jerks me back to reality. I drop my hands and turn away from the mirror.
"Put your hands back."
"But," I whisper, "there are people out there."
"Hush." That's all he says, but his tone is commanding and I replace my hands on my breasts.
"Face the mirror. Watch yourself." I turn and watch myself in the glass as my fingers lightly stroke my breasts. I rub my nipples with my fingertips through the translucent fabric. I reach for the silken bow that holds the negligee closed but hesitate before I pull the ends of the deep red ribbon.
"You may." His voice gives me permission and I tug the ends of the ribbon and the bow unfastens, falling open to reveal the curve of my breasts.
"Play with your nipples. Make them hard for me." I obey the command, my fingers lightly caressing my nipples. I flick my fingernails across the rosy tips and they tighten into taut little buds. I pull them and roll them between my fingers and thumb. A whimper escapes my mouth and I immediately press my lips together to muffle the sound.
"No. Let me hear you."
"But..."
"Hush!" His voice is barely above a whisper, but the command is quite evident. "Do you feel safe with me?"
I nod my assent and murmur "yes", all the while continuing to play with my nipples.
"I'll keep you safe. Touch yourself. When your nipples are hard enough, put on your nipple rings. You did bring them, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir," I reply and do as he wishes, playing with my nipples until they're stiff enough for me to put on the nipple rings. I turn away from the mirror, open the clasp on the wallet and take out the shiny silver baubles.
I pry apart the wires and put them on my nipples. I gasp as the rings seat themselves on my nipples. It hurts, but it feels so good, too.
"Good girl."
His words and his voice, low and raspy in my ears, makes me shiver. I cup my breasts in my hands, thumbs brushing my taut nipples. I look in the mirror. They are tight and hard, the color deepening with each stroke.
"Pinch them."
I do as I am told. Thumb and finger around each swollen bud, I lightly pinch my nipples.
"Harder."
I pinch harder and a wave of pain, or is that pleasure, sweeps over me. I bite my lip and close my eyes as the sensation builds.
"Too hard?" his voice asks.
"No," I shake my head. "It's okay. It hurts, but in a good way." I continue to do as I am told.
"Does the bench move? Pull it over until it's in front of the mirror and sit."
The colorful things I've been trying on tumble off in a puddle of jewel tones. I slide the bench over and sit down, the deep red negligee floating around me. The silk feels cool against my bare thighs.
"Spread your legs."
I do but it's not enough for him.
"Wide. I want to see that pretty little pussy."
I do as I am told. Hard pink nipples made even more so by silvery rings, a triangle of wispy curls and my pussy, all very visible in the dressing room mirror. I want to pull the edges of the robe closed, to hide myself from view, but I know he will disapprove so I leave them alone. Oh, but I want to. I feel very exposed.
"Have you opened your Valentine's Day present?"
"No, not yet," I answered, "I wanted to wait until --"
A chipper voice came over the loudspeaker. "Attention, shoppers. Our store will be closing in ten minutes. Please complete your shopping and have a happy Valentine's Day!"
"Open it now," he ordered and I reached over and dug through the pile of discarded clothes until I found my coat and the small package stashed in one of the pockets. I parted the froth of pink and red tissue paper concealing the contents. I shook the gift bag until the box, about the size of a deck of cards fell into my palm. I opened the flap on one end of the box, tilted it and a wearable vibe tumbled from it.
"It's already charged. Put it on."