Better Not Pout

Author's Note:

This story was originally distributed as 7 chapters.

It may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting.

Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author at mischief1@bigfoot.com.

Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.

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"Take a seat," he said pointing toward the chair again. "You're in luck; I think we can work something out."

Warily, she sat back down, puzzled. After several minutes of scribbling on her application, he looked up. His eyes were gleaming.

"Here's the deal. Our store’s Santa is black, but we don’t have a Mrs. Claus for him yet. Some people think that Santa and his wife should be the same race – I think it would be kinkier if they weren’t. Interested?"

Stacy was stunned at his bluntness. There wasn’t a politically correct bone in this pig’s body. She swallowed hard.

"Uh, what does Mrs. Claus do, exactly?" she asked, stalling.

"Oh, it's simple. You stand around in a female version of Santa’s costume leading little children to Santa's lap. Elves and Santa's Helpers give out candy and take pictures. Piece of cake."

The position sounded absolutely demeaning.

"Uh, I don't think..."

"It's considered a talent position so it pays $20 an hour plus wardrobe and its full time through the end of the year."

Her eyes bulged. She did a quick calculation; 40 hours a week would bring in $800!

Before she had talked herself out of it she accepted the position. Simons signed her paperwork and told her to take a copy of the contract and go get fitted for her costume. Still in a daze she made her way through the reception area and followed the signs for the Wardrobe Department.

Wardrobe was very similar to the dressing rooms in the general part of the store, only there were no doors on the stalls and it was a lot less crowded. There were two people getting fitted, both women, and several attendants doing various tasks around an assortment of machines and tables.

"Uh, hi, I'm here to get fitted for a Mrs. Claus costume," she offered. “I’m looking for a…,” she looked down at her contract,”…Karen?”

One of the attendants looked over at her and snorted. She was imposing, not large woman, but by no means what you would consider "petite". Thick-waisted with heavy breasts, her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun so it stayed out of her eyes. Stacy estimated that she was around her age, maybe a little older.

"Go into that booth over there and undress," Karen ordered.

Her tone, sharp and authoritative, caught Stacy by surprise. It was as if the woman was speaking to a misbehaving child.

"I'm sorry,” she blinked. “Did I do something wrong?"

“You're wasting time," the woman barked. "We don’t have to be friends – we both have a job to do. Only you are keeping me from doing mine. Now go over to that booth and strip down to your panties!"

Obediently Stacy went into the empty booth and took off her clothes. The woman's manner was puzzling, but also ... something else. She pulled her sweater over her head and wiggled out of her skirt. Kicking off her shoes, she leaned against the wall and peeled off her pantyhose. Thankfully she'd at least remembered to wear matching underwear.

The satiny pale pink undergarments shimmered against her skin. She’d been exercising a lot lately, which kept her waist small and made her breasts seem more pronounced than the 34B that they were. Her legs were smooth, shaved clean for the interview, and her hair hung in a ponytail draped over one shoulder. She hung up her clothes on a hook in the booth and walked over to where the seamstress was waiting.

"I thought I said strip down to your panties!" Karen growled.

Without warning she snipped Stacy’s straps with a pair of scissors. Her bra fell to her feet in a pink satin puddle. Her nipples, two dark red spots in the center of each breast hardened immediately, partly from the sudden cold, and partly as a result of the savagery of the woman's action.

"We'll get along much better if you learn to fucking follow directions. Understand?"

Stacy nodded.

"Answer me!" she demanded.

"Yes," Stacy whispered.

She looked around the wardrobe room, but either no one else noticed or they were choosing to ignore them.

"That's better," the woman purred. “Now stand up on the box."

Stacy positioned herself in front of the three way mirror. Karen came behind her, expertly wrapping a measuring tape around her rib cage and under the soft swell of her breast.

"Hold still."

Stacy couldn’t help squirming, not sure what to make of the intimate caresses Karen was favoring her with. She tried to convince herself that she was just doing her job but some of the touches seemed too deliberate. When Karen brought the tape measure across Stacy's hardened nipples she whimpered softly, but held still.

Satisfied, Karen bent down and measured along Stacy's inseam. Stacy squeezed her eyes tight as Karen’s fingers brushed the satiny crease between her legs. She was a mess; she couldn't understand why her reaction was so strong. Something about being controlled, ordered around, excited her! It had started with Mr. Simons in the personnel office and had continued here with Karen. Sexually she was too inexperienced to have had an opportunity to explore the whole submissive kink – Brad was the only person she’d ever fooled around with, and he was passive. But the fact remained that, the more she gave herself over to others' control (at least today), the more aroused she got.

Karen firmly stroked the split between Stacy’s legs, the only thing between her adventurous hand and the warm moistness inside being the rapidly saturating silk. Unbidden, Stacy spread her legs slightly, allowing the woman to tease a greater amount of her lips, and looked lazily around, trying to determine if they had attracted anyone's attention. In the mirror, her eyes locked with one of the other women being fitted. The woman’s eyes indicated her shock but the rest of her demeanor was uninterested. Stacy shuddered at the acknowledgement, but didn't dare move otherwise. Karen finally relented, just before Stacy was afraid that she'd cry out in pleasure.

"Get down. I almost have everything I need," she said, smacking Stacy sharply on the ass.

To Be Continued...