“Today I have a special treat for you, little one just for you being such a good cock sucker. Would you like a treat?” he asked cradling my cheek gently in his big hand.
Still kneeling, “Oh yes, Master. Are you taking me to town?”
“Come, let me dress you. You haven’t even seen the beautiful clothes I had custom made for you.”
“How’d you do that, you don’t know my measurements?” I inquired with a puzzled look on my face. I was used to having clothes custom made and I knew it took measurements and lots of fittings to achieve that perfect look. “Did you save some of my old clothes?”
“No. Let’s have a look and see how you like them.”
I was excited about the prospect of actually wearing clothes again after weeks of being kept nude at all times. I couldn’t hide my big smile as I let him lead me into the central room. The room was flooded with warm mid-morning sunshine that added to the room’s country charm.
Master pushed on what appeared to be just another log, but a door sprung open. A rainbow of colors came into view as the sun reached in and touched my new clothes. There were reds, yellows, blues, a beautiful deep blue almost a midnight blue and a brilliant emerald green. The garments all looked as if they were made of nothing more than tissue paper thin wisps of gossamer. A sunbeam tinged the rack full of clothes with iridescence.
But I was looking for clothes. You know the type that I had worn before, tailored suits, sweaters and slacks with lots of pretty blouses in an array of colors like these and of course my beloved jeans. My mouth fell open, slack-jawed in disappointment. I looked up into my Master’s face. His was delighted and animated while mine was taking on that pasty look as shock set in again. I whispered, “You said, clothes….?”
We watched the disappointment slide across the other’s face, each for our own reasons. My bottom lip quivered as I fought to control my disappointment. I could feel my eyes bubbling with tears, though none spilled out. He hid his better; it was just a fleeting shadow that darkened his good looks. It made me afraid.
“You said….,” I said with my chin tucked into my chest. I couldn’t look at him. I knew he’d win. Quietly I sniffled, with my thumb and forefinger stemmed the tears as I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Slave, when will you learn? It’s not about what you want. I will dress you anyway I desire and you can like them or not, but hear this. You will wear them!” he said. He almost spit the words out at me. Spittle showered me.
The rebel in me surfaced, “You said … I thought you meant … town ….. You don’t expect me to go to town dressed like this do you?” I had secret plans for when I arrived in town and they meant police and going home. Ever since he had mentioned clothes my head had been swirling with plots and counterplots. It would just take one trip to some town and I would be out of here. But I knew that meant real clothes, and these just didn’t count.
“You silly little fool, who said anything about town? … You, did not me.”
In a daring move I looked him square in the eye and as I haughtily as I dared, said, “But you didn’t disagree, so I thought,” He laughed in my face. It was a stand off, I may be learning some of his lessons but that didn’t include how to back down. I knew I should apologize but I couldn’t get the words to do more than loosely form in my mind. My lips remained sealed.
Finally Master ended my reign of defiance, by choosing a short emerald green outfit and matching high heels. “Come over here I want to dress you, little one,” taking my hand he pulled me over to the chair and unceremoniously pushed me into it, only to say, “No stand up for minute.”
I wanted with all my heart to snap, “Make up your mind!” Better judgment won. With an all-telling sigh of resignation I stood. My arms folded across my chest were my last stand. Stubborn, defiant and tenacious were words that everyone used to define me and I would not let his Polly Anna transformation go smoothly.
“You li'l she-devil,” he whispered with a deep frown worrying his brow. I wasn’t sure what he meant. The words were anything but endearments, but his tone made they seem like they were.
“Hold your arms out.” He deftly slipped an emerald green strapless corset around my waist and slid it up under my breasts. “Take a deep breath and let it all out, like this,” he said demonstrating the technique.
“Then you wear the damn thing, if you know how to do it.” Talk about pushing it, I was going to the nth degree.