This story is part true and part fiction.
*****
She fell under his spell pretty quickly. This was only her second day on the job. Claire stole a quick look at her new boss. When she saw he was looking at her, smiling, she quickly looked away, but couldn't keep a small smile from her soft full lips.
Claire wore no makeup. Not even lipstick, as her husband didn't like it. He told her that makeup made her look like a whore and would attract other men. She had long beautiful auburn hair held together by a scrunchy at the back sweeping it into a ponytail that swung freely against her long silky skinned white neck. She wasn't tanned, not even close. Her skin was a creamy pale white, a few freckles on her cheeks shoulders that seemed to compliment her green freckled eyes, befitting her Irish ancestry.
She wore a man's style shirt buttoned up tightly against her neck, unsuccessfully hiding her amble tits, further concealed in a plain white bra. The shirt and bra didn't stand a chance at binding her tits or keeping them from swaying as she moved. Her husband hated it when men noticed her tits, and had at times even beaten her for "purposely" drawing too much attention to them. Her narrow waist was of no help at all in keeping her tits concealed, making them seem even more pronounced. She wore jeans over her long legs, and flat black shoes.
Claire had been fired from her previous job. It was just a housekeeping job at a motel, but still, it brought in some money, which she turned over to her husband every pay day. When she went home and told her husband she had been fired, and explained she had hit a man who had tried to grab her and pull her into his motel room and her boss had fired her for hitting him, her husband punched her in her ribs for acting too sexy and causing it all. He screamed at her for the money he would now be missing and warned her she better get a new job right away. He would have socked her in the eye but knew that might keep her from quickly getting a job.
She desperately but quickly found a new job at a soft drink bottling plant. Her new boss was a big powerful black man with a deep husky voice. He was at least ten or fifteen years older than Claire who was just a few years out of high school. He seemed to be paying a lot of attention to her. She admitted to herself that she liked the attention. Even in high school, she liked it when black boys paid attention to her, even hitting on her, telling her she was so hot and wanted to fuck her like a dog in heat. Of course, she never responded or dated a black boy. She didn't want to be beaten as badly by her father like her older sister was. Instead, she dated only white boys, and not that many of them. Most of the boys were afraid of her father. Her father had actually beaten one of her dates, after he beat her and the boy tried to get in between.
Once out of high school, she was rescued from a poor and abusive home life by the man who became her husband, Ricky. Too late, Claire realized that Ricky was very possessive and demanding and not that much different from her father and her home life there.
Not only was her new boss, Terrance, powerful looking with a deep voice that seemed to vibrate within her chest whenever he spoke, but he was tall and very self assured. He had a commanding presence. She liked that. It was exactly opposite of how she saw herself: shy, lacking in self confidence, demure, easily influenced by others, a follower and certainly not a leader. "Submissive" was a word she never used but described her perfectly. Terrance was so strong and obviously a leader.
Claire was busy at her work, her head down, daydreaming about Terrance, when she felt a hand at her back. It was Terrance, smiling at her. Her face flushed, feeling like he must have seen she was daydreaming about him. He chuckled quietly.
"Claire, you are so pretty. But you try to hide it," he said in his husky voice. "Why don't you wear a nice dress tomorrow instead of those baggy jeans you have on today?" Then he smiled again, his hand still on her back, moving up and down slowly, electrifying, even going as low as her ass. Clair could not help but shiver. She made no effort to remove his hand from her ass. On the contrary, if felt warm and good and comforting somehow.
Claire stammered, no words coming to her lips. Finally she just nodded, and eeked out a small shy smile. Terrance chuckled then moved on. Claire found her knees getting a bit wobbly.
At home that night, Claire went to her closet and picked out a dress to wear the next day. She had few to select from. They were all very conservative. She picked the one with a small floral pattern that was high necked, showing no cleavage, and stretched down to her knees. She made the dress herself, on her Singer sewing machine. She used the sewing machine to make a little extra money doing clothes repairs for neighbors. A small amount of that she kept hidden, but most was turned over to Ricky. She knew she ran the risk of getting beaten for wearing a dress to work, but this was a conservative dress, so she was hoping that would not happen.
Ricky had already left for work when it was time for Claire to get ready. She debated putting a slip on first, as the cotton material of the dress was on the thin side. Certainly not see through, though, but it might reveal too much of what was under the fabric of the dress. She knew nobody else hardly ever wore slips, but Ricky was very jealous and it helped avoid her getting beaten. After consideration, she threw the slip back in the drawer.
She put a bra on, looked at herself in the mirror, then took the bra back off and stuffed it in her purse. She would put it back on after work and before getting home. She had little choice when it came to panties. Just plain white panties, with nothing at all sexy about them. Ricky didn't like her at all in sexy panties. What if she had an accident and somebody had to remove her jeans in order to treat her and they saw her sexy panties and thought of her as a whore?
He told her that if that happened, the next thing you know is she would be acting like a whore and fucking other guys. He didn't say it to her, but was afraid she would then find out what sex was really like. She might find out that it is more than just being pushed down on her back on the bed, Ricky slamming his dick into her for a minute, cumming, then jumping off, telling her to go get cleaned up as it was disgusting looking at per pussy that way. He could care less if she orgasmed. In fact, it might be better to keep her wanting.
Claire pulled up her panties up over her pubic thatch, then slipped the dress on. She caught herself in the mirror, noticing how her tits moved under the dress with no bra to restrain them. Embarrassed, she almost changed her mind and put her bra on, but decided to just stick with her decision.
As she was about to leave the bedroom, she again looked in the mirror, pursed her lips, and decided on one more risky move. Claire pulled out a tube of lipstick from her drawer, and applied it. It was just a light pink lipstick that didn't draw a lot of attention to her full lips. It was the only tube of lipstick she had. She pursed her lips, looking in the mirror, and wondered how a bright red lipstick would look on her. She figured it would make her look like a whore and would result in a beating from Ricky.
Upon arriving at work and approaching the entry, she almost chickened out, half turning to go back to her car, then realizing she would be late if she did go back home to change. She shyly went in to work.
