Shopping Kmart
Copyright© 2001 by Kathy R.
Chapter 17
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 17 - She goes into Kmart out of curiosity, which leads her down a path she never thought about.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant BDSM DomSub MaleDom
Quietly I stood before you, my husband at my side as you told me how my life would now be each day. "You will be available to service me each day while your husband is at work. During his off hours, you'll be answering to him. Since our work schedules overlap, you'll have no problem seeing to each of us. You'll be with your husband on holidays and weekends. As for your daily household chores and running errands, you'll do those on your own time -- while both of us are working and on weekends." I nodded, as I realized my every waking minute would be full.
"We've agreed that since you like being a slut, you'll dress the part. Your hus--" A blaring announcement over the speakers mounted in the ceiling, caught your attention. "I have to get back to work, you're husband will fill you in on the rest of our agreement. I'll see you both shortly, after I see to this small matter." I wondered if it were a shoplifter you were tending too as I watched you rush off toward the front of the store.
"All right, dear wife," I snapped my attention back to you as you moved to stand in my Master's now vacant spot. "As he was saying, you will be dressing the part. That means that tonight, we -- you and I -- will be burning all your undergarments. And we mean all of them."
Immediately I began plotting: Not unless I got to them first and hid a pair or two before you got to them. For those days when I needed to feel the silky smoothness on my private areas. Besides, I justified to myself, some of those garments were quite expensive. To dispose of them seems like a waste of money.
"Don't even think about hiding anything from us." I blushed as you seemed to have read my mind. "You'll be feeling a lot more than just silk on your ass if you're ever found to be wearing undergarments. You chose to be a slut and sex slave, so that's exactly how you'll be living from this day forward. Every day." I shivered a bit as your words sank in. Everyday... ? Oh, this was not going to be fun.
"Your parents will be kept in the dark as to your newly adopted lifestyle. Since they are getting old, they don't need to be burdened with the thought of their beloved daughter being tortured, used, abused and kept like a dog -- or a pig. When we visit them, you'll be reverted to the mousy, conservative housewife they believe you to be. With one exception: No undergarments. We'll go over the finer details of your behaviour during such visits later. For now..." You stepped aside as a family of customers tried to squeeze between you and a parked shopping cart.
"Let's move on to an area of less traffic." You took me by the arm and escorted me to the front of the store -- to the small cafe area there. Once we got seated, you promptly took up where you'd left off. "As I was saying, we -- your Master and myself -- don't wish to cause problems between you and your folks. There simply is no need for it."
I was relieved to hear that. How could I explain to them how I'd become a slave, kneeling for my husband and another man at there every little whim? How could I explain that I was now to be used for sex, for torture, for whatever came to their mind for their entertainment? I shivered and thanked my husband for their consideration on that point.
"You'll be getting new outfits. Stockings, garters and corsets are a must. After that, what you purchase for your new lifestyle, will be your choice, but it will have to meet with our standards -- not yours. The outfits will be as slutty as possible: Miniskirts. Blouses that are made of thin material. Other tops that are so tight your breasts are nicely outlined for the world to see and enjoy. You can wear shorts when you are out running errands, but not slacks. You'll be given a list of what you can and cannot wear later on. For now, you just need to have a general idea of what's expected of you."
My heart sank. Miniskirts? Oh, God, help me... I shifted on the hard plastic bench. "Is this getting to be too much for you, dearest wife?" I shook my head no. I realize I hadn't said much -- nothing -- as the two men began telling me of their agreement, but that's to be expected. I was in shock.
"He'll have his rules for you, for your behaviour and what's expected of you in the way of service. I'll also have a separate set of rules for you. Since we're married, the rules have to be different. Different situations call for such. The one thing we both expect from you at all times, is that your eyes are to be on us. You are no longer permitted to look at others -- men or women -- not even in passing.
"What?" Here I balked, finally speaking up for myself. "You can't do that! There are people all around us. How can I be expected to not look at them?"
"Are you through?" I nodded.
"Good. Your eyes will always be on us -- whomever it is you are serving at that moment. When you are out running chores, you'll do what you can to mind your own business and avoid eye contact. Looking down at the floor is a good, and healthy, option." I cringed, thinking I'd have to avoid looking at people on a daily basis.
"Don't worry, it'll get easier over time. And we'll be making sure you remember the rule and stick to it like a good little slut -- slave." I didn't like the sound of that, but didn't say anything. I already knew from my experiencing with my Master that to ask about such vague comments was to be asking for too much information. Information that could, and would, scare the crap out of me. So, I didn't ask... choosing the wait-and-see attitude, instead.
"Oh, yes, before I forget: Your household chores are to be done while you are completely naked. And we do mean completely. Cooking. Cleaning. Vacuuming. No matter the chore, you are to be naked. If someone comes to the door," You shrugged in that I-don't-care posture. "Well, you'll figure something out." I was nearly frozen in fright with the thought of someone coming to the door while I was naked.
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