Click and Collect: Isobel's Table

Aisle two is a couples' trap. You have to pass through it to get to the stuff you really came into Harbinger's for, such as the washing machine or the freezers, or all the way down the back of the store to the husband magnets: the huge flat-screen TVs endlessly rolling through sumptuous pictures of cornfields or butterfly wings. The brains at head office have structured the store to put this stuff in your way, a while-you're-here distraction before you get down to the business of the big purchase. I could see a couple standing in front of the coffee machines, deep in conversation. Works every time.

"Anything I can help you with?" I said as I approached.

The man shook his head, saying, "I think we're fine."

"No, Henry, we're not," said the woman. "You only drink tea anyway."

She was shorter but stunningly attractive, long dark hair framing a delicate face with eyes the colour of dark chocolate. Even in sweatpants and a hoodie, there were hints of the curves of an exquisite body beneath. It was clear that she was the decision maker in this purchase.

I moved into my standard spiel about the benefits of the various models, watching her face as I gave her the pros and cons of each in turn. Henry stood to one side, clearly abdicating responsibility. The woman eventually picked one, a mid-range model, and turned to her partner.

"Whatever you think, Anya," he said.

"Is the correct answer," she smiled.

I directed them to Tilly at the front checkout to complete the purchase. Only then did I see a woman standing to the side, obviously waiting for me to finish with the couple. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, bright green eyes and stunning copper hair tied neatly into a braid that reached down to her shoulders. Immediately, I knew what she was going to ask, a part of my brain already wondering how to best get that braid into a hood.

"My boss suggested I come here. I heard you do click and collect," she said.

---

We were in the manager's office, planning. Hayley frowned, waving a finger over the diagram I'd drawn on the order sheet.

"This is pretty adventurous, Tom, even for you," she said, "It's gonna be a tough one anyway and then you add all this." She tapped the page.

"How did she find us anyway?"

"Word of mouth," I replied.

"Been getting a lot of that lately. What if word gets out too much?"

"Word of mouth at the Lost and Found. We're pretty safe. Unless one of the Harbinger execs has access to the private members section. Then we're either fucked, or promoted."

"I've heard of it. I've never been."

A picture formed in my head of Hayley's gorgeous figure augmented by a tight leather hobble-skirt and bustier in the members section down the back of the club. With me. I picked up the order sheet and changed topics, dwelling on those thoughts would be unprofessional. I was her boss, after all.

"Look," I began, "We have that steel coffee table with the glass top smashed. It's already a return, so there's plenty of margin in it."

"But the hinges, and the locks?"

"It needs a bit of spot welding, but I can do that."

"Then we need latex sheeting, and adhesive. I don't know how good a seal we're gonna get on that. Oh, and a board tall long enough for a person."

"That's just wood. The latex we'll have to order. It needs to be right."

"What about breathing?"

"I'll get a plastic dust mask and some tubing. I'm sure it'll work."

Hayley still seemed to have reservations. "We're not just delivering, though. It's for a party, it's more than an hour."

"I think we offer a call-out service hotline. That covers off the safety aspect. Happy?"

Hayley looked at me, studying my face, trying to decide. The slight flush in her cheeks gave her away: I could tell how aroused the prospect of this was making her.

"Okay, Tom," she conceded, "You're the boss. When?"

"Friday week after next. You good for that?"

"I had a shift at the café but I can juggle that."

I smiled and put my hands on her shoulders. I could feel the warmth of her body through her blue and white store uniform. She eventually returned my smile.

"Don't you think this is all, uh...," she indicated my drawings, "A little over-engineered? We're not trying to land a person on the moon, we're just turning a woman into a coffee table."

"Yep," I replied.

---

Friday dragged. Hayley had already swept the floors and I'd tidied the aisles by five thirty. We were now in maintenance mode, waiting for the moment we could lock the doors and start. I'd made sure to roster Tilly on to close out. It was obvious from her previous remarks that she knew we had a thing going and I'd played along with her assumptions; it was easier to let Tilly think that Hayley and I were getting down to our own private business than bringing Tilly into the click and collect after-hours service. Even though I was ten years older than Hayley, interestingly I'd noticed that she was also happy to play along with the assumption that she was screwing the boss in the warehouse.

The front doors opened and a pair of women entered. In front was a striking figure: slim, black hair in a shoulder-length bob framing a narrow face with high cheekbones and honey-brown eyes. She was about my age, dressed in a light-grey business suit with a pencil skirt that came down to mid-calf; bare legs slipped into low stiletto heels. The way she walked was all swagger, the pencil skirt tight around her beautifully firm bottom. She bustled up to me directly.

"Tom, I assume," she said.

"No need to assume," I replied, tapping my name badge. "You must be Clara?"

The woman extended her hand and I shook it.

"Pleased to meet you Tom," she said, then turned to the woman behind her, "And my executive assistant Isobel, you've already met."

I looked from the tall, elegant woman to her companion. The burnished copper hair and piercing green eyes were unforgettable. Isobel nodded and smiled demurely.

"I understand you've been keeping her across the details?"

I nodded, and said, "Yes, we received the body measurements and I think you'll be pleased with the result."

Clara's smile widened. "Shall we get down to business?"

I nodded and indicated the way to the back of the store where Hayley stood, waiting by the doors to the warehouse.

Clara motioned to her assistant to precede her. "Why don't you go ahead and make sure it's all to your satisfaction?" she said.

Clara hung back a few paces, and I sensed that she wanted a word in private. I watched Isobel make her way to the back of the store, her copper-red braid brushing her plain white blouse. I admired the way the cheeks of her bottom moved under the tight fabric of her skirt, the shape of her stocking-clad legs as she swayed in her high heels.

"Yes," Clara said in a low voice, "She does have a fabulous backside."

I shifted my gaze back quickly, a little flustered.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to stare."

"It's quite alright. I find myself doing the same all the time," Clara continued. "Though it's the way her breasts swing as she walks towards you that I find particularly...," she broke off for a moment, smiling, "...hypnotising."

I tried to block out the idea of Isobel stripped naked and walking towards me with her red hair swinging in time to the movement of her unbound breasts, and brought my focus back to my customer.

"Uh, shall we...?" I stammered, indicating the back of the store again.

Clara smiled again and we began to walk.

"So," she began, "Is it quite safe?"

"Yes. We tested the seal and the breathing tubes yesterday."

"And what about once inside?"

"The vacuum seal would make movement impossible. The subject is completely at the mercy of the owner of the table, for as long as they want to use the table."

"So there's no way out? Despite how hard you might struggle?"

I snatched a glance at Clara as we walked. There was a strangely intense look on her face.

"None," I said, "the subject is completely helpless until the owner of the table chooses to release her."

Clara bit her lip and smiled excitedly. "Then this will definitely be worth the money," she said.

We arrived at the back doors and Hayley led us through into the warehouse area. She was dressed as usual in the blue and white store uniform, like myself, but she had swapped the practical flat shoes of a shop assistant for shiny black four-inch stiletto heels that lifted and shaped her calves in a way that made me begin to stir in my underwear. I had to admire her dedication to her work.

"This way please," Hayley said, leading us out to the loading dock area.

On the concrete pad was a large, white coffee table with a silver steel frame. Clara walked up to it and stroked the shiny white surface appreciatively.

"It was originally a glass table," Hayley said, "But the customer returned it after the glass broke. It's nice to be able to give it a second life."

"Yes," Clara murmured, walking around the table slowly, inspecting it from all angles. "It's good to reuse something rather than throw away. You've done a great job. This wouldn't be out of place in any living room. You can't really tell what it is at all."

Clara rapped her knuckles against the surface. "Is it strong enough?"

"Yes," I replied. "Actually, when they returned it, I had a look at the glass. There's clearly the imprint of a body on it, so we know that while the glass wasn't rated to hold two people, the frame definitely was."

Clara smiled. "The things we get up to in the privacy of our own homes," she said, and looked at Isobel.

"What do you think Bella?" she asked the other woman.

Isobel had up until now been standing to one side. She approached the table.

"Can we see the hinges?" she asked.

"Of course," Hayley replied and bent down to demonstrate our little innovation.

"The actual table top itself is on a central hinge," she began, pulling back a little locking deadbolt at the end of the table, "So if you pull the locking bolts back you can rotate it."

As she spoke, Hayley flipped the table top to show the underside.

"You get full access to front any back."

"That's brilliant!" Clara exclaimed. I could see the excitement on her face. Isobel showed no sign and seemed to be studying the table carefully.

"Breathing is via a little face mask, ventilation is here," Hayley continued, indicating a hole drilled discreetly into the side of the frame.

"I must say, it looks like you've thought of everything. This will be such a hit at the party!"

Isobel stood up and faced her boss, and said, "Clara, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we're running a little behind schedule."

Clara frowned, stroking the smooth white latex with her fingertips. I could see her assistant's gaze following the movements of her boss's hand on the shiny material, a look of concern on her face. Or, I thought, maybe it was dread?

"I guess you're right," she said, turning to her assistant.

"Are you satisfied with the arrangements, Bella?" Clara asked the younger woman. I noticed how she had slipped into a more familiar form of her assistant's name.

"Yes, it all looks like it's in order. I'm ready. Are you?"

There was silence between the two women. Clara appeared to be focussed intently on her assistant's expression.

"I'm ready," Isobel said at last, placing a hand on her boss's arm as if comforting her, and whispered, "Now strip, slut."

Clara's gaze dropped immediately to her feet and her smile faded. She shucked herself out of her jacket and folded it neatly. Hayley stepped in to take the clothing from her. I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing ample breasts pressed into a delectable cleavage by a cream lace bra. Again, she folded the blouse carefully, eyes never raised from the floor.

Isobel was watching her intently, hands on hips, one foot pointed forward, clearly in command. Clara reached behind her back and her bra came free. She passed it to Hayley and stood topless in front of her executive assistant.

"Carry on," Isobel said in a level tone. She looked at me. "Sorry, I don't usually have her strip in front of strangers."

"That's quite alright," I replied, "We obviously have experience in getting people prepared."

"Yes," Isobel said. Her boss began to unzip her skirt and wriggle it down over her bare thighs until it dropped at her feet. I was secretly impressed by the way the demure twenty-something assistant had been able to turn her gregarious, alpha-female boss into a meek, naked plaything in a matter of seconds.

"I'm having a party with my friends at my apartment tonight," Isobel explained, "I wanted a statement piece, and my toy was keen to meet my friends so I thought: what better way to introduce them?"

"It'll certainly be a talking point," I agreed.

"A couple of them have met Clara before," she continued, "As a person. Not... this. One of them even said there was no chance I'd be able to get my way with her. It's going to be priceless seeing the look on her face when she finds out that not only did I sleep with my boss, but that I succeeded in turning her into a fucktoy."

Throughout all of this, Clara stood next to us, naked and silent, eyes cast down to the floor. I was acutely aware of her slim body, the curve of her breasts, the shapely legs, as she was completely ignored by her mistress. Isobel seemed to suddenly remember that she was there.

"Sorry," Isobel said, looking at me sheepishly, "There's a little thing I need to do. Do you mind?"

"No," I replied, "Go ahead. Hayley needs to fix up a few things anyway, we have a little time."

Isobel smiled and began to hitch up her skirt. I watched the fabric rise over her knees, exposing trim, toned thighs clad in sheer stockings. She bunched up the material just below crotch level, exposing one supple, elegant leg and revealing the stocking top. With the other hand she reached out to the back of Clara's neck and began to pull the taller woman down until she was kneeling in front of us.

"You may," Isobel said.

Clara seemed to come to life, her hands reaching up to stroke her assistant's stocking. She bent forward and kissed the sheer material, working her way slowly around the thigh.

"No higher than the stocking top, slut. We're in company."

Clara's hands travelled down Isobel's leg, stroking and massaging her shapely calf, while she began to lay a trail of soft kisses down from Isobel's inside thigh to her knee. In the background, I could see Hayley returning with tubing and a vacuum cleaner. However, both of us were enraptured by this display of control.

Isobel looked up from her plaything's gentle ministrations.

"Sorry about earlier, she does like to talk a lot," she said, "I find it's usually better to occupy her mouth with other things. Plus, this tends to calm her down, get her centred. She needs to focus on what's actually important."

Isobel brushed her fingers gently through Clara's black hair as the other woman worked her way down to Isobel's stockinged ankle. Isobel slid her foot out of her shoe and presented it to the kneeling, naked woman. Clara kissed it, working her way down to the big toe. After a moment's hesitation she drew Isobel's toe into her mouth and began to suck.

"She needs to focus on pleasing her mistress," Isobel continued. "Interestingly, this was how I enslaved her. Who knew she would have such a thing for redheads in stockings? I had to wear some mercilessly short skirts in the early days to give her the full eyeful, but now she only gets to see my legs if she's been a good girl. Still, it was quite shocking how quickly I wore her down. I'd taught Clara her proper place, sucking my toes, within a few weeks."

If Clara was paying attention to her mistress humiliating her in front of strangers, the only sign she gave was a redoubling of her efforts to suck and lick Isobel's toes through her stockings.

"That's enough, I think," Isobel announced, popping her toes out of her boss's mouth and sliding her foot back into her shoe.

I took that as our cue to move along with the process. "Is she ready to be put inside the table?" I asked Isobel, careful to direct my questions and my attention to the mistress: Clara would no longer be asked her opinion.

"She's almost ready," Isobel replied, looking down at the kneeling woman expectantly.

For a moment, Clara didn't move. Then she hurriedly brought her hands up to her hips to hook down her panties, wriggling out of them and spreading her legs. I could see that Clara was completely waxed. There was a small silver ring protruding from beneath her clit hood and another piercing her perineum.

Isobel saw that I was looking.

"Nice, isn't she," she murmured. "Of course, there's always a little scene when we go through the metal detectors at airport security. You can get rings that don't set them off, but we prefer these. It's quite humiliating, but we've learned not to go through with colleagues."

Isobel took firm hold of her boss's chin forcing her head back until she could make eye contact.

"Did you forget for a moment that I told you to strip? I nearly had to repeat myself," she cautioned.

Isobel's hand slid around to the back of the other woman's head and I could see her grab a fist-full of black hair. She led Clara on her hands and knees towards the table. From behind, I watched the young redhead swaying seductively in her high heels, one hand gripping the older woman's hair close to her stockinged leg. Clara was fully exposed, the silver flash of a piercing dancing between her legs as she crawled, fully naked, on her hands and knees towards her latex prison.

I lifted the latex flap that ran down one side of the table-top, showing the polished wooden board within.

"There are three holes," I explained. "Two larger ones here to fit the breasts through, and one smaller one in the centre further down, to give access to her vagina. She needs to lie face-down and then we can make sure she's securely in place. But first, we need to mask her."

Hayley stepped in, holding a clear plastic mask that would fit over Clara's nose and mouth. We had altered it so that it also incorporated a hollow cock gag. The breathing tube was fed into the end, and would give Clara an unrestricted airway, even when fully sealed. Hayley had insisted that I test it on her yesterday; I had experienced mixed feelings, watching as my sexy mid-twenties co-worker busied herself stacking boxes for half an hour with a cock gag secured in place. She hadn't seemed to mind and had given a positive verdict. She had almost seemed to enjoy it.

Clara opened her mouth without question as I took the gag from Hayley and slid it between her lips. I secured the straps behind her head, making sure the facemask made a tight seal around her nose and mouth.

"She won't be able to talk anymore after this. Is she comfortable?" I asked Isobel.

The beautiful redhead crouched down in front of her plaything and stroked the older woman's cheek lovingly. Beyond the stripping and the humiliation, the strong bond between them was plain to see.

"Are you okay, Clara? You want to stop?" she asked, kindly.

Clara shook her head slowly, her breath hissing through the coil of plastic tube. Isobel stood back up.

"Seal her up," she said to me, in a business-like tone, "We have a party to get to."

Clara slid under the latex covering without protest, positioning herself on the board, face down. Hayley fed her breathing tube into the hole in the frame, pushing it firmly into place. Next, she smoothed the shiny white latex down over the woman's prone body and began to run her finger along the bag seal.

"It's like a huge zip-lock bag," Isobel commented.

"Yes," I replied. "Once the air's out it should stay fully vacuum sealed for hours. How we looking, Hayley?"

"All good," Hayley said, pushing the vacuum cleaner nozzle onto a small valve in the white plastic. "Ready?"