Author's note
: The story thus far: On a cold Thanksgiving Eve, under the direction of Jim, Soma is being passed from man to man on a sensual shopping spree. Before handing him off to the first man, Jim made Soma insert a remote controlled vibrating butt plug. Each one has taken him to a different store and bought him an item of women's clothing which he has to wear for the duration of the experience. In return, Soma has to pleasure each man orally. After giving George two intense orgasms in a row, they head to Soma's next assignation. I hope you enjoy the ride.
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The drive to the next store was quiet. George asked me to remain seated in back with my legs spread and blindfold in place. I was clothed only in my new wardrobe: black fishnet crotchless one piece stocking and garter set from Jim, blue thong panties from Pete and the dark blue bralette George had purchased for me.
When he hit a stop light, George would turn on the vibrating butt plug lodged within me, not turning it off until we started moving again. My cock was tucked underneath me and was subject to the dual stimuli of my weight pressing it down and the vibrator causing it to swell and move toward my anus and the direct stimulus of the end of the plug. I could feel the precum flowing. George had anticipated that and had placed a towel under me. It was absorbing much of the moisture, but I was afraid of what might remain to stain my pants when I had to put them on.
I had given pleasure to three men and taken four loads, the last one a true gusher from George. I was still processing that, amazed and proud that I had been able to do that for him. I was also growing more and more horny: the combination of my sensual attire, the constant stimulus from walking around stores, the constant threat of exposure if I walked wrong and the irregular buzzing of the plug that possessed my ass and seemed to grow bigger by the minute, all were keeping me on the edge. I knew, however, that Jim had forbidden me an orgasm until he gave the word. In the darkness of the blindfold, I was nodding off into that special headspace my submission takes me...Jim and his friends were taking me places I would never dare have gone on my own. I dreaded the day ending almost as much as I dreaded the next humiliating trip to a store.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice the car come to a stop until I heard George's voice.
"We're here, Soma. Wait here while I get Gordon."
I heard voices outside the car, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Doubtless he was handing me off to Gordon, along with the remote I had come to love nearly as much as I hated it. The door opened and I shivered from the sudden cold. A new voice called out.
"Get that blindfold off, Soma, so I can get a good look at you."
The voice belonged to a man about my age and a couple of inches taller. He wore wire rim glasses that matched his full head of black hair, which did not match his face: it was tan and wrinkled by too much sun worship in his earlier days. I doubted the carpet matched the drapes. His smile, at least, looked genuine. He was in good shape and wearing jeans and a jacket that covered up his shirt.
"You are a cutie, Soma. I'm Gordon and I hope we're going to become very close friends. You look good in lingerie...look at me, Soma, don't look down. I'm not flattering you. You wear it well, like it was made for you. There's only one thing missing: you need a pair of shoes to set it off. Let's see your feet."
He stepped into the van, sat across from me and picked up each foot. He stroked each sole gently, rubbed each toe and ran his hand up my leg. I shivered with excitement.
"Mmmmm, very nice, Soma. Your feet are soft and smooth, just the way I like them. They need polish and I'd love to see your legs with no hair, but I understand your situation. One day, perhaps...but now you better get dressed so we can hit the mall. We're going shoe shopping."
I put on my shirt and readjusted my tuck, ignoring them both staring at me. Next came my pants and, finally, my shoes. Gordon pursed his lips when he saw them. It was clear he was not a fan of deck shoes, though I found them very comfortable. It was also clear he had a thing for feet, which was fine with me. If he wanted to suck my toes, I'd be more than happy to oblige him.
George held out his hand when I got out of the car. I shook it and felt him squeeze it firmly.
"Thank you for a most pleasurable outing," he said. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again. He has a fantastic mouth, Gordon. Now I know what you guys meant when you said I was missing out."
"You're too kind, Sir."
"Sounds like we'd better get a move on, then. As for his mouth, remember what Reagan said: 'Trust, but verify.'"
With that, we set off toward a shopping center that had clearly seen better days. The parking lot was about 1/3 full. I recognized the signs of a mall that had once been the jewel of the area, but had been superseded by the latest and greatest mall fads. At least, I knew there would be plenty of shoe stores: they're the last places to close.
The usual Muzak was the first thing I noticed. The second was the lack of teenagers. They had moved on to the fancier malls, which was fine with me. I didn't need someone turning me into a TikTok star without my knowledge. The people I saw were mostly middle upper class moms enjoying an afternoon away from everyone. There was the occasional businessman running an errand, or, perhaps, arranging a tryst with one of those middle upper class moms.
Gordon directed me to one of the shoe stores. A young woman was behind the counter, focused on her phone. We walked toward the rear of the women's section. Gordon started looking at some stiletto heels with interest.
"What do you think, Soma? Would these look good on you?"
"I don't know, Sir," I said nervously, wondering how long it would be before the lady at the counter called security on the pervs in the back. "They look like they'd be hard on my balance."
"Perhaps, Soma. There's one way to find out. See that salesman over there? Ask him to come over here."
"Really, Sir, I think we can figure it our ourselves.....oooh! I'll go get him, Sir, just turn it off, please."
I walked over to a middle aged man wearing a shirt with a name badge that read "Phil" and a bored expression. He brightened up when I approached.
"Good afternoon, Sir. Are you being served?"
"Actually, my friend and I are shopping for some shoes for our wives and could use a little assistance."
"Of course, Sir. I'll be glad to help you and your friend."
We walked over to Gordon, who was looking at a pair of blue pumps.
"Good afternoon, Sir. Your friend told me you needed some assistance finding a pair of shoes for your wife."
"Did he?" Gordon looked at me with a look of disappointment. I lowered my eyes in embarrassment, then jerked up in surprise, as I felt the butt plug get my attention and hold it. I knew then I was in trouble.
"Actually, I'm afraid Soma misspoke slightly. We're looking for a pair of shoes for him: something sexy but not too difficult to wear. Do you think you could help us?"
Phil looked at me, figuring out that I was squirming with embarrassment. He was, of course, wrong. I was trying to avoid disaster and figure out a way to get Gordon to turn it off. I felt myself starting to sweat with the strain of my cock growing. He turned back to Gordon with a smile.
"Of course I can help you, Sir. We're not here to judge you, but to make sure you get the shoes you really want. Now, Sir," he said, turning back to me, "what size shoes do you wear?"
I took a deep breath before replying, then relaxed as the buzzing stopped.
"I normally wear a size 9."
"Generally, then, you'd take a size 10 in a pump, but, possibly, a 9 1/2 in a sandal. Have a seat and I'll measure your feet. Then we'll see what we have in your size. Do you have a style in mind?"
"No, we don't just yet," Gordon was making clear who was in charge. "But we would like something in a darker color, preferably a dark blue. It will match the rest of his outfit."
My cheeks were on fire and I slunk down into the chair. How much worse could it get? Phil pulled his stool in front of me and removed my shoe and I realized how much worse it could get.
"Very nice stockings," he murmured as placed my foot in the Bannock device. "Since they're fishnet, you'll need to wear footies when you try on our shoes. Here's a pair; you can put them on while I get some shoes in your size for you to try on."
"I'll show you what we want. And, Soma, you should roll up your pants legs so we can see how the shoes are going to look," said Gordon, fingering the remote and joining Phil as they wandered down the aisles.
My humiliation was complete. I rolled my pants legs halfway to my knee, showing my fishnets to anyone who walked by. The footies I slipped on would let them know what a pervert I was. Even worse, the tan of the footies ruined the look of the stockings.
But, wait...the footies didn't make me a pervert: they made me a woman. They were required for women who tried on shoes in their bare feet. While the fishnets were technically stockings, the mesh could allow sweat from my feet to soil the shoes. Phil wasn't humiliating me: he was simply treating me like every other female customer he had. And, oddly, that didn't bother me.
I was sitting in the chair, lost in thought, looking at my feet in the floor mirror. I felt a presence and looked up. Standing at the sneaker display on the wall across from me was a man in a business suit, a pair of sneakers in his hand, eyeing me with concern, then disgust. He shook his head and turned away, walking toward the front. I heard him muttering, "Faggot."
"Not faggot, Sir, tranny. Please try get your slurs right." Was that coming from me?
He stopped, turned and stared at me. I stared back, waiting for him to take a swing. I remembered that winning the eye contact battle established the alpha dog. I may have been a submissive cocksucker, but I was not a doormat, and I could stare down this bastard...
"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" Phil was holding a stack of shoeboxes and addressing the man.
"Not any more...guess I'm done shopping here," he growled, dropping the sneakers he was holding and storming off.
"I'm sorry, Sir," I said to Phil, "I didn't mean to cause a scene."
"You weren't the one causing a scene. The man was being an asshole, that's all. We get them from time to time," he sighed.
"That took guts, Soma," Gordon said. Turning to Phil, he continued, "I guess I'll have to buy an extra pair to make up for your loss..."
