French maid outfit, complete with frilly apron.
I heard Cole behind me. He’d followed me, anticipating a tantrum.
“No,” I said. “No, no, no.” The fabric was silky and fine, but there wasn’t much of it. The outfit came with silky panties and sexy black heels. My pussy clenched at the thought of wearing something so enticing for Cole, but my pride overruled it. “No, Cole. Just no.”
“Hush.” He caught my chin in two fingers and held me still. The gesture sent tremors of submission through me. “You will wear this dress because I want it, and you belong to me.”
“Is this some sort of sick fantasy I play into?”
“Maybe. But you’re going to do what I want, when I want. You may not like all of it, but you can trust me. You know that.” He released me. “Say ‘prison’ and you can go. Otherwise, change.”
I threw the outfit on the bed. “This is so wrong.”
“So is a beautiful, intelligent young woman throwing her whole life away because she’s too proud to ask for help.”
“You don’t understand, Cole. All I have is my pride.”
“Not anymore. I’m going to take your pride. And give you something more.”
“What’s that?”
“Peace.” He took the outfit from me and folded it carefully. “You don’t have to think, or worry. I’m taking care of all it, sweetheart. It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. I believe in you. Now get dressed, little maid.” He swatted my rear as he headed towards the door. “My house isn’t going to clean itself.”
I growled to myself as I changed. I felt two things: the acute curl of humiliation suspiciously located in my groin, and a resigned agreement to what he said. My life was a mess. If he was volunteering to fix it…well, the jury was still out on that. Until then, I’d dress up like his sex dream and pretend things were all right.
There were worse fates than living out Cole’s fantasies.
The outfit fit perfectly. The top smoothed over my bust and left my back bare. The skirt was a joke, but the sky-high heels made my usually dumpy legs look longer. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric over my curves.
I was nervous. Nervous to meet Sheriff Sadist and his pervy fantasy. But I wanted him to like what he saw.
I wanted to please him.
That thought annoyed me most of all.
Gritting my teeth, I put it all on. My breasts almost spilled out, but I supposed that was the point. After ten years of trying to cover up my huge breasts, wearing baggy t-shirts in summer and carefully picking necklines for work, it was a relief to flaunt my curves.
I peeked in the full-length mirror. Holy hotness. The costume looked amazing with my hourglass figure. All the doubt I had washed away when I realized I was in Cole’s house wearing a sexy outfit by his request. Nay, by his order.
Beat the hell outta doing time.
Inspired, I swiped on some more mascara and smudged some eyeliner for a foxy look. “Here goes nothing.”
I clopped back into the kitchen. Cole was across the room on the phone, his tall form silhouetted in light coming through the window. I caught my breath at his broad shoulders, his body lean but obviously muscular. The long legs, the taut waist. His trim form filled out the sheriff’s uniform perfectly—and I usually ran at the sight of uniforms. It helped that under the standard issue black trousers was a perfect ass.
He turned slightly and I admired his profile—the strong jaw, the patrician nose. There was a reason the townspeople voted him sheriff at the tender age of twenty-eight. He had an air about him that said: “Trust me. I’m a leader.” It also said, “Cross me at your peril.” Cole Townsend was the total package.
When he caught sight of me, he did a double take. I stepped out of the hall, tugging on the skirt as if it could somehow lengthen and cover more of me.
Striding into the kitchen, he signaled me to twirl. My gut clenched, but so did my pussy.
I pirouetted, teetering a
I heard Cole behind me. He’d followed me, anticipating a tantrum.
“No,” I said. “No, no, no.” The fabric was silky and fine, but there wasn’t much of it. The outfit came with silky panties and sexy black heels. My pussy clenched at the thought of wearing something so enticing for Cole, but my pride overruled it. “No, Cole. Just no.”
“Hush.” He caught my chin in two fingers and held me still. The gesture sent tremors of submission through me. “You will wear this dress because I want it, and you belong to me.”
“Is this some sort of sick fantasy I play into?”
“Maybe. But you’re going to do what I want, when I want. You may not like all of it, but you can trust me. You know that.” He released me. “Say ‘prison’ and you can go. Otherwise, change.”
I threw the outfit on the bed. “This is so wrong.”
“So is a beautiful, intelligent young woman throwing her whole life away because she’s too proud to ask for help.”
“You don’t understand, Cole. All I have is my pride.”
“Not anymore. I’m going to take your pride. And give you something more.”
“What’s that?”
“Peace.” He took the outfit from me and folded it carefully. “You don’t have to think, or worry. I’m taking care of all it, sweetheart. It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. I believe in you. Now get dressed, little maid.” He swatted my rear as he headed towards the door. “My house isn’t going to clean itself.”
I growled to myself as I changed. I felt two things: the acute curl of humiliation suspiciously located in my groin, and a resigned agreement to what he said. My life was a mess. If he was volunteering to fix it…well, the jury was still out on that. Until then, I’d dress up like his sex dream and pretend things were all right.
There were worse fates than living out Cole’s fantasies.
The outfit fit perfectly. The top smoothed over my bust and left my back bare. The skirt was a joke, but the sky-high heels made my usually dumpy legs look longer. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric over my curves.
I was nervous. Nervous to meet Sheriff Sadist and his pervy fantasy. But I wanted him to like what he saw.
I wanted to please him.
That thought annoyed me most of all.
Gritting my teeth, I put it all on. My breasts almost spilled out, but I supposed that was the point. After ten years of trying to cover up my huge breasts, wearing baggy t-shirts in summer and carefully picking necklines for work, it was a relief to flaunt my curves.
I peeked in the full-length mirror. Holy hotness. The costume looked amazing with my hourglass figure. All the doubt I had washed away when I realized I was in Cole’s house wearing a sexy outfit by his request. Nay, by his order.
Beat the hell outta doing time.
Inspired, I swiped on some more mascara and smudged some eyeliner for a foxy look. “Here goes nothing.”
I clopped back into the kitchen. Cole was across the room on the phone, his tall form silhouetted in light coming through the window. I caught my breath at his broad shoulders, his body lean but obviously muscular. The long legs, the taut waist. His trim form filled out the sheriff’s uniform perfectly—and I usually ran at the sight of uniforms. It helped that under the standard issue black trousers was a perfect ass.
He turned slightly and I admired his profile—the strong jaw, the patrician nose. There was a reason the townspeople voted him sheriff at the tender age of twenty-eight. He had an air about him that said: “Trust me. I’m a leader.” It also said, “Cross me at your peril.” Cole Townsend was the total package.
When he caught sight of me, he did a double take. I stepped out of the hall, tugging on the skirt as if it could somehow lengthen and cover more of me.
Striding into the kitchen, he signaled me to twirl. My gut clenched, but so did my pussy.
I pirouetted, teetering a
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