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onto the shop floor wearing just my underwear. I’d really expected him to strip me naked and take me, then and there, in his office. Indeed, half the night had been spent fantasising about him doing just that, bending me over his huge desk and screwing me from behind. Sometime about three o’clock in the morning I’d gone to sleep with that image floating in my mind. Now instead of having been stripped and fucked I was still wearing my underwear, although probably not for much longer.
    I wondered briefly if he could smell my arousal. The scent of my pussy floated up to my nostrils with every step. I knew I was wet and the panties I wore damp, but I wasn’t sure if my scent carried to him.
    The scene in the office, as he had made me slowly undress for him, had been totally different form my fevered imaginings but nevertheless still highly erotic. Another minute standing there with my top tangled around my head, feeling so helplessly vulnerable, I think I’d have cum. Suddenly I realised Charles, my new master had spoken to me.
    “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you?”
    “I asked what size are you?”
    “Dress size, sir? Ten.”
    “Bust size?”
    I swallowed.
    “. . . Thirty-four B, master.”
    “Hips?”
    “Thirty-four.”
    “Thirty four what?”
    “Sorry, Sir!”
    “Feet?”
    “Size six, master.”
    “Well, we’ll have to find you some better shoes than that. Not exactly fuck me pumps, are they?”
    “No, sir.”
    He frowned at me and then led me over toward the lingerie section, no real surprise but that moment of exposure was getting closer. I could feel my fluids seeping into my panties, uncontrollably.
    He motioned me closer, his eyes travelling lasciviously up and down my body several times.
    “Obviously you think white is a good colour for you. Personally I think a blonde always looks better in black or red. Put these on.”
    He tossed me a pair of sheer black stockings. Checking the packet, I realised they were hold ups. I tried to open the packet carefully but he interrupted again.
    “Don’t worry, we’ll hardly be putting them back on sale after this, will we? Get them on. You can sit there.”
    I nodded and smiled a brief thanks and moved quickly over to the indicated chair. Slipping out of my shoes and ripping open the packaging on the stockings didn’t take more than a moment. Then it was a matter of leaning down and slipping the first rolled up stocking over my toe. I glanced up through my lashes to see Mister Chisholm staring straight down my cleavage, inadvertently exposed as I bent over. Of themselves my nipples hardened further and I fought down the instinct to either cover up or turn away.
    With one leg done I crossed the bare leg over it, feeling the sensuous way the nylon brushed against my bare skin. When the stockings were on I stood up again.
    “Straighten them.”
    Looking back over my shoulder at the back of my legs I realised they were seamed stockings and I’d twisted them. A minute or so pushing and turning brought the seams straight and I’m certain he’d enjoyed the jiggling movements of my breasts as I did so.
    “Now, let’s see, what would look good with those stockings?”
    I could see his eyes drinking in my legs from toe to crutch. I’d worn stockings, white of course, under my wedding dress but never since. I’d forgotten just how sexy they made me feel. By now the crotch band of my panties was soaked, and my nipples were pointing straight out. Every time I moved the soft fabric of the inside of the bra rubbed across them, sensitising them even further.
    He motioned me to stand still while he moved further between the racks. I stood as he had asked, no, told me to do, still, my hands at my sides and glanced around.
    “This will be just perfect.”
    I heard him but didn’t see him, at that moment my eyes had locked onto the flashing red light of the security camera. Obviously the security system was active and what I was doing was being recorded. Suddenly