The truth was that Susan was just a little too old and a shade too plump for the short green skirt she had been instructed to wear and she knew it. Then, having to combine that with a thin yellow blouse and an orange jacket had done nothing to draw attention away from her. On top, or rather down below, red heels; 'not too high, thank God,' thought Susan when it was time for her to slip them on her feet. Black stockings and red lacy suspenders completed her outfit, the sum total of what she was allowed to wear; well those and a broad white hair ribbon. She had a toothbrush in her pocket, money for the buses and her keys; this was going to be quite some weekend and, this time, everything was going to be totally beyond her control.
Susan had always wondered what it would be like to submit, to entrust her fate to another, to be instructed, teased, tormented, perhaps embarrassed, possibly humiliated and the new man in her life was certainly about to take care of that for her. Short skirt, stockings and no panties was a lot to ask. Then phoning her just half an hour before she was due to set off, ordering her to travel by bus. A little detail that had meant that she had had to dash off instantly. Either that or risk being late and, naive as she was, she knew better than that.
As Susan waited impatiently at her stop for one of the lackadaisical local buses to turn up she was all too well aware of the interest she was attracting; lecherous stares from the men, disapproving glares from the women. Well at least she was still attractive, well attractive for a woman in her late thirties: shoulder length blond hair, blue eyes - true blue not grey. OK she was no longer as slender as she was once but, these days, her breasts were fuller, her cleavage prominent and pronounced, and her nipples stiffened all to readily. They had done so whilst she was waiting and she was glad that the jacket kept that extra little embarrassment hidden from view.
The bus driver goggled openly as she tendered her fair. She felt the eyes of the other passengers upon her as she tried to spot an unoccupied double seat but her search was in vain because there was none to be had. She sat next to a scarfed Asian lady who, in reality, was almost certainly just as British as herself. Susan wished she had a book or even a newspaper, anything in fact to take her mind off the interest she was attracting. Her outfit, she realised, had been calculated to garner attention making her look more slutty than sexy. And she had to change busses in the town centre. Susan prayed that the connection would be quick and smooth.
Unusually, Susan was lucky, the second bus arrived on time and had a vacant double seat. Well it had until it arrived at the sports ground. Susan had no idea what was played on a Friday evening but it appeared to involve big hairy men, exclusively. When the bus resumed its journey it was packed to capacity, with one of the larger, more hairy men sitting next to Susan, legs splayed akimbo, squashing her. Susan cursed and felt the perspiration beading on her brow. She conjectured as to whether or not her rather dominating new partner had realised just how disagreeable her journey would be. Then realisation struck, the phone call, he had timed it deliberately, with malice aforethought, to make things as uncomfortable for her as he possibly could. She just wished that her nipples would not keep so hard and that the soggy feeling between her legs would go away.
When her destination approached her predicament worsened, she realised she was going to have to force a passage through that heaving, sweating masculine scrum if she was to alight at her correct stop. As she wormed and wriggled her way between that pack of boisterous masculinity she felt more than one hand grab and grope her thighs; one man now quite certain that she had stockings on. Susan was only glad that she could not be sure who exactly had slipped a hand so far up her skirt.
As the bus pulled away, greasy smoke billowing from its exhaust, Susan was left crimson, angry, panting and disarrayed. Moreover, to cap it all, her new beau was not there to greet her, clearly she had to walk alone to his gate. She clacked down the road and marched up his garden path to discover that the outer door had been left ajar. She stepped into the little porch and spotted the note pinned to the door immediately. 'Susan. I expect you were a little embarrassed by the clothes I picked for you. So, before you knock on this door, to spare your blushes, remove them. Undress, all except for your heels, your stockings and your suspenders.'
Susan look round anxiously. The porch was reasonably well concealed by the somewhat overgrown garden and a fair distance from the street but the road was busy and much of the porch was made of glass. It was unlikely that she would be seen but if anyone looked over the gate. Well they would certainly be able to see either her boobs or her bum, she could not hide both from a determined voyeur. Susan prayed that Michael would at least have the decency to answer the door quickly. He didn't, he kept her waiting for an eternity; in reality a little over three minutes but for poor Susan the time dragged with leaden feet and she had no watch or clock to reassure her.
When the door was finally opened Susan's anger evaporated instantly, relief flooded through her as she disappeared from the possible gaze of the public. She cursed her man inwardly, she was actually feeling gratitude towards this evil genus who had just made her feel so unsettled and more than a little frightened. He closed the door behind her and locked it. To her horror Susan realised that everything, her money, her keys, even her toothbrush were now locked away from her, well beyond her reach. "Come," he beckoned, "you might want to freshen up." He indicated a small side room which Susan discovered to be a tiny bathroom. As she ran a bowl of water she heard a disconcerting snick and when she tried the door she discovered that she had been locked in: indeed the room had no bolt on the inside. Susan shivered, she was now a prisoner and for the first time she really did wonder what type of ordeal her new lover was about to subject her to. He had promised wild and had guaranteed beyond her imagining and... well, 'beyond her imagining' it already was, well beyond.
When Susan sat on the toilet she discovered the next little idiosyncrasy of that bathroom. The wall opposite was all mirror so she had no alternative but to sit and contemplate herself as she peed. Still if she kept her knees together it was not too intimate. It was only after she was done that she discovered the next dastardly trick, there was simply no paper to wipe herself with. She decided that she would have to use a little flannel to wash herself and then pat herself dry with a tiny square of towel that was all that had been provided. This time she was left to herself for considerably longer and, to her horror, whilst she was waiting she heard the doorbell ring twice. Was there not just to be the two of them, was he going to allow others to molest her? Susan became much more than just a little apprehensive, she was now scared, very afraid indeed. What had she let herself in for? Well whatever it was she realised, she was in no position to back out of it now.
