Charity Shop

The original of this story is my absolute favourite. I've taken the beginning and re-written the rest. I hope the author will forgive me.

It starts in a London charity shop, where a professional man called Phillip is caught browsing through women's clothes.

More chapters will follow.

*

If anyone had asked me a week ago what I'd be doing today, the last thing that would have entered my head would have been...well maybe I'd better let you decide for yourself.

I had the afternoon off, I'm self-employed and am in the fortunate position of being able to choose when I work. In fact, I really only need to work a couple of days a week to make quite a respectable income. Anyway, I'd been browsing round a few shops and decided to look around one of those charity shops, you know the type, they sell all sorts of bargains and bric a brac.

My mind must have been elsewhere because I was snapped back to reality by a voice saying, "It's really not your colour." I looked down and to my horror realised I was holding an awful looking floral dress. Blushing from head to toe, I dropped the offending garment instantly and turned to challenge the speaker defiantly. Unfortunately I seemed to have temporarily lost control of my tongue. I made a few gurgling sounds, then gave up.

The speaker smiled knowingly and walked away. I watched as she approached another customer and began speaking to her, seemingly oblivious of my presence. I continued to watch her for several minutes before moving to another section of the shop. Even then I kept glancing over my shoulder self consciously to make sure she wasn't still watching me.

It was almost as though I needed to prove to her that I wasn't some sort of pervert, that I had nothing to hide and was simply browsing, which of course I was. I glanced at her once more, what was it about her that bothered me so much, granted she was quite attractive, in fact, considering she was probably in her mid to late forties, she was extremely attractive, but far too old for me. She was after all, at least fifteen years my senior. Anyway, I preferred slim ladies not, how did the magazines describe her type, full figured? Yes that was it.

And I also liked girls who used little or no make up; she must have needed a trowel to apply that lot. And that hair of hers, the colour had to be out of a bottle, I mean, at her age she would be bound to have some grey hairs, not deep brown, anyway, I liked blondes. I had to admit though, she did have great legs, but someone of her age shouldn't be wearing such short dresses, she should grow old gracefully. No, I decided, she was definitely not my type. So why couldn't I keep my eyes off her?

I waited until she'd finished serving the lady, then picking up a book from a nearby table; I walked over to the counter and handed it to her. "That's two pounds please." She said, her deep sexy voice tinged with a note of sarcasm. I blushed again and fumbled for the money. Then it came to me; "It was for a friend." She looked onto my face with her deep penetrating brown eyes. "What was?"

"Errmm, the dress, you know, the one I was holding, it was for a friend."

"Really! Male or female?"

Like all liars, I hadn't expected to be cross-examined and blurted out, "Female of course."

She smiled, "Do you buy many dresses for girls?"

"Sometimes. The girl I was buying that for was burgled and most of her clothes were taken, I thought she might like it."

"That's terrible," she said seeming genuinely sorry. "It's very thoughtful of you to try to help her." I couldn't believe she'd fallen for it and what's more, she was praising me for my actions, and then she dropped the bombshell. "Look, I'll tell you what, you're not in a hurry are you?" Was she going to ask me out? What the hell, she was quite a good-looking woman.

"No, not particularly."

"Good, I'm about to close up, why don't you wait here and I'll show you some of the stuff that came in today, maybe you'll be able to find a few things for your friend. Have a look around."

She waited for the last of the shoppers to leave and locked the door behind them. Oh shit, what had I got myself into? I could hardly make some excuse after all I'd just told her I was in no hurry. She walked past me waving her hand for me to follow. We walked through a door into what seemed to be a lounge room. I learned later that Dianne, that was her name, lived on the premises rent-free in return for working in the shop.

She sat at the end of a sofa and crossed her long, black stocking covered legs exposing a great deal of her thighs. I found myself thinking what a pity it was she was wearing tights instead of stockings. She gestured for me to sit beside her which I, somewhat nervously, did. I wasn't sure if she'd noticed me looking at her legs but the slight smile on her face hinted that maybe she had.

"What size?"

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

"Your friend, what size is she?"

"Oh I see...ermm...well she's sort of..."

"Is she my size," she sighed, "Smaller or larger?"

"Smaller."

"About your size maybe?" She asked. There was the hint of a smile.

"No definitely not," I replied quickly, "She's slimmer than me."

"She couldn't be much slimmer or she'd be all bones." She sounded almost disappointed.

"A little slimmer I think."

"No problem, you're not very tall, I suppose she'd be about your height would she?"

"Yes, about the same." I replied, relaxing a little.

"Good, I'll make us a coffee, and then we'll see what we've got." She unwound her legs and disappeared through a curtain into what I assumed was the kitchen.

Returning with the coffee she resumed her position on the sofa. I was once again treated to a full view of her shapely, nylon covered legs as she slowly crossed them. "Is there something wrong with my legs?" She asked, sliding her hand up from the ankle to the thigh as though to pull the stocking tight.

"Not a thing," I replied."

"I'm relieved, I thought maybe you didn't approve the way you were looking at them." She continued to stroke them, her eyes fixed firmly on my face as if gauging my reaction. I picked up my coffee and tried to appear nonchalant as I sipped it. "My ex husband used to love my legs, for some extraordinary reason he used to go almost crazy when I wore stockings instead of tights. I never understood that, after all, it's the same material, there's just a little less of it. I remember he used to beg me to wear stockings, would you believe I had to tie his hands behind him before I could change, it was the only way I could control him."

It was about this time that I found myself wishing I'd worn something baggier than jeans. I don't know whether it was the thought of seeing her wearing stockings, or the idea of being tied up by her, but whatever it was, it had an instant effect on my manhood and the look Dianne gave me left me in no doubt that she'd noticed the bulge.

"Does your friend wear stockings? I'm sorry, I don't even know your name, I'm Dianne." She reached out her hand to shake mine, the same hand that had been touching her leg.

I could hardly control my shaking as I took it in mine and said, "Phillip."

"Delighted to meet you Phillip. Does she?"

I decided to make it seem as though I was unaffected by the thought. "Yes, quite often as a matter of fact."

"Lucky girl, I haven't worn them in ages and they're far more comfortable than tights. It's just that, well quite honestly, if men see you wearing them in the street they seem to think you're easy, so the only place you can wear them is at home, apart from that I'm not sure I have the legs for them anymore. Does she use suspenders or a corset?"

"I've never got that far!"

"There's something very sexy about corsets, don't you think? The way they squeeze you in and hold you tight. I always used to get so horny when I wore mine. Maybe there's one in the clothes that arrived today. I once found a beautiful black satin one. I doubt it had been worn more than twice, I wonder what happened to that? Oh I remember I packed it away when Trevor left. More coffee?"

By now I was almost doubled over in an effort to hide my erection, Dianne seemed not to notice my predicament after her initial glance in the direction of my fly. She poured herself another coffee and continued. "I remember the first time I wore that corset, Trevor was almost foaming at the mouth by the time I released him." She chuckled as she recalled, "I used to tease him mercilessly, I miss those nights sometimes. I don't suppose...no of course not, forget it."

"What?" I asked anxiously, praying she would offer to show me some of her outfits.

"Oh nothing, I was just thinking maybe you'd like to see me dressed up how I used to be, but I doubt you'd be interested in a plump old hag like me after your young friend. Don't worry. I won't embarrass you by asking."

"I'd love to see you in them!"

"It's very nice of you to say so, but I think you're just being kind."

"I'm not I swear," I insisted in my eagerness to convince her. "I'm sure I'd be exactly like Trevor, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you."

"Oh believe me, I could soon fix that. Okay, take your shirt off."

I was a little confused at this; after all, it was she who was going to be changing clothes, why did she want me to undress. I opened my mouth to ask her, but before I could speak she left the room. What the hell, maybe she feels it would be less embarrassing if we were both undressed in some way. I waited a few minutes, feeling a little stupid sitting half-naked in a stranger's home. When Dianne returned I was disappointed to see she was still fully dressed. "I thought you might like to join me in the bedroom while I change."

"Sure," I replied, trying not to sound too eager.

"Not so fast," she smiled, "You'll have to wear a blindfold, after all, I hardly know you, and my body isn't what it used to be." The disappointment must have shown on my face because she added. "Don't worry! I'll give you a running commentary as I change." Before I could protest, she reached over and pulled some sort of black cloth bag over my head, it had drawstrings at the back and she pulled them tight and tied them together plunging me into total darkness. I felt her tie the drawstring in a bow at the back of my neck. Then she took my hand and led me from the room.

In the other room Dianne released my hand and left me alone for several minutes. I could hear nothing and was tempted to remove the bag to see what was happening. I reached up to test the knot and was startled by Dianne's voice. "I thought you might try to take it off, I think maybe I'd better do something about that." I had no idea what she meant, but I quickly found out.

She took my left hand and slipped something over the wrist. Then gently took it behind my back bringing the other hand across it. I should have known what was happening, but it was all so quick and practiced. One moment she was holding my hand, the next moment both were secured firmly behind my back. Dianne had obviously had plenty of practice at this. A second cord pulled my elbows together.

I began to protest as I felt my trousers slip down my legs. I'd been completely unaware of her action as she undid them. It took her only a few seconds more to remove my shorts together with my shoes and socks.

Ten minutes ago I was sitting drinking coffee and chatting with an attractive older woman. Now here I was blindfolded and totally naked with my hands bound behind me, feeling both vulnerable and excited.

A wide leather collar was pulled around my neck. It jarred as the two buckles were fastened.

Suddenly I could see again as she pulled off the face-piece of the hood. Looking around I could see her very pink feminine room. A four-poster bed stood in the middle, a dresser and drawers by the window.

"This is an old corset that I know will fit." She showed me the long black classic corset.

"How do you know Dianne?"

"It was my husbands!" She wrapped it around my torso. The cups were full of padding. It really did fit well, until she started to tighten it. Soon I only cared about breathing.

"He shaved his legs too!" She stroked my thighs, and cupped my bare balls. I'd kept it all hairless for years. She pinched my erection until it subsided, and then fed it and my testicles into a steel chastity tube.

The stockings rolled up easily. I loved the feel of them. It was not the first time I had worn them. The boots were tall, and raised me by a few inches.

"How does it feel?"

"I thought you were dressing for me!"

She laughed and patted me on the buttocks. "This is what you wanted Phillip! Walk around for me."

I did as I was told. She scalded me for not picking up my feet and then falling onto the bed. "Get up! Walk again. Tell me you want to serve me!"

"I want to serve you Mistress." I'd read about Mistresses and seen them on late-night TV, and now I could enjoy one.

"Lean over the dresser, face to the window."

I felt her lift my right foot to my buttocks and strap it there, followed by the left, leaving my balanced on top of the unit.

"What can you see Phillip?"

"The road."

Her greasy finger found my anus. I was relieved that she took it away, but shocked by the cold steel that touched me.

"Can you see your car?"

"It's gone!"

"I have a friend with Lambeth council. Your car is impounded. Your wallet was interesting. We'll see what is in your tiny flat later, when I drive you home. Until then you are mine to play with!"

The thing pushed into me until I screamed. She took it out, before pushing it fully in again. I felt her legs press against me and her hand pull at my collar as she pumped again and again. I wasn't sure what I said. I'm sure I begged her to stop. I felt I was splitting.

My cock was fighting to straighten itself in the steel sheath. It was more agony.

"Call me 'Mistress', you Bitch!"

I cried out "Thank you Mistress!"

"What's my name?"

"Mistress Dianne."

"Just call me Mistress D."

The strap-on left and a smaller rubber plug filled my hole. She fiddled with a chain that held it in place between the chastity and base of the corset. She un-strapped my legs and pulled me to my feet, holding me there until I could control my legs and balance.

I felt like crying.

"Stand up straight girl!"

"Yes Mistress."

I walked dutifully behind her to the back door of the shop. She opened the door and pointed to her car. I wasn't allowed a seat. I was shut in the boot.