Lena's New Life Ch. 05

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first erotic series I ever wrote, back in 2005-7, long before posting my first story. I have revised and edited (hopefully well) the chapters, but they are pretty much as they were when I wrote them. It is the story of a married couple in love and exploring a new version of their relationship. It is a fairly long series, although some of the chapters are quite short.

There is no sex in this chapter. Just sexiness. Enjoy, and thanks for reading

CHAPTER FIVE - NEW CLOTHES

"Slave."

She opened her eyes to see John looming over her. She squinted into the light, rubbed the sleep out, and tried to open them. Her mouth was dry, and tasted of ... morning. She finally got her eyes opened, and asked him to repeat what he's said.

"Good morning, sweetheart, he grinned. "You look lovely, and well relaxed." He sat on the bed, leaned to her and kissed her forehead. "We have a big day ahead of us. Slave."

She thought she heard the slave command! She sighed; she was not ready for sex this early in the day. She groaned, rolled over, and he shook her shoulder.

"C'mon, we're not having sex now," he urged. "We have a lot of places to go, and I need you up and dressed. I brought you coffee. You get in the shower while I start breakfast."

"What? What are we doing? And why the Slave Command if we're not having sex?" She was more than just sleep-disoriented, she was confused from the mixed signals. Was she disappointed that they weren't having sex?

He grinned at her, sat back on the bed. He put his hand on her chest, massaged her breast as he spoke. "We're going shopping for clothes. The reason for the Slave Command is because we will be shopping for your clothes, for your new sex life. I am commanding you, as my Sex Slave, to cooperate and not resist, or disagree, or try to discourage any purchase. Obviously, if something doesn't fit, you'll have to let me know."

He found her nipple becoming hard, played with it. "However, in addition to saying nothing critical about the clothes we purchase, you will be under command to compliment how they will make you look, and why."

"Huh?"

"I'll explain more on the way. In the meantime, let's go."

An hour later they were on their way. As they left the house he dragged a large trash bag to the garbage. When she asked what it was, he told her it was her old panties and bras. "You won't be needing them after today," he chuckled.

He explained the Complimenting Command. "During the day you'll be on 'Normal' so you can speak and act freely on any subject except your Slave Commands. When you see a selection I have made, it may not be something you would normally choose. NOT ONLY are you prohibited from saying 'I don't like that', but you MUST say why you like it and how it will look good on you."

"I'm still not following. I get the part about not saying I don't like it. The rest; I don't get the rest."

"OK, for instance," he began to explain. She had to admit, as a Slave Master, he was creative and understanding. He kept it fun, and interesting. "In many cases it may be the reason you would not have bought it. Let's say I pick a blouse. You, on any other day, might think it iss cut too tight across your chest, which, if I may point out, is spectacular." She grinned, and felt a little blush. "Instead of saying "I don't like it because --"

"I have to say I like it because it accentuates my chest." She interrupted. "I think I'm starting to get it."

"Right. A skirt that might have been too tight, or too short ..."

"Oh, this will really show off my legs, and I feel so sexy in it!" she said in a fake girly voice.

"Right idea, but less campy. Approach it seriously." She was tempted to ridicule the idea more, but decided against it. Hey, she was getting new clothes...

"I am your slave," she said, serenely, "I will do whatever you say."

"All right. Normal."

Their first stop was a corset shop, of all places. As they were walking in, she said, matter-of factly, "Oh yes, this will give me that restricted breathing ability that is so sexy." She looked at him sideways, waiting for the angry reaction.

"Silly slave. You probably think that we're going to buy a corset. No, no," he shook his head. "Come with me and get a lesson." A bell over the door jingled as they entered, and an older woman, clearly once beautiful and now simply elegant, came out to greet John by name. With a slight accent, something Mediterranean, she turned to Lena, telling John, "Oh, you said she was so pretty; she is beautiful. You're a lucky man." Lena felt a flush of embarrassment at this compliment from a stranger, but had no idea why. "Come with me, dear, we'll take good care of you." The woman took her by the hand and dragged her into the back room. Lena looked at John, who smiled.

"Most women do not know how to select a brassiere," the woman said, sitting Lena down. "Take off your shirt dear." She was selecting some boxes from under the nearby table. "They go through their entire life with bras that fit only ehh-h," she motioned with her hand, "and never know that it's supposed to look and feel better." She came over to Lena. "What are you doing dear? You have to take off your shirt so we can measure."

"I don't know what I'm doing here."

"He didn't tell you?" she motioned to the front of the store. "He's a good husband, no? But a devil. He should tell you, but OK. You get measured for a good bra, one for you. I make." She waited. "You have to take off your shirt and bra so I can measure. You see."

With half a grin, Lena began to unbutton her shirt. A Custom Fitted bra. What an idiot. What did he think, she couldn't pick a bra? She took off her shirt, started undoing the clasp at her back. For Pete's sake, she's had boobs since junior high, and now Mr. Expert is going to know more about bras than she does?

And then she was topless, and the woman began measuring, and flitting around her, talking endlessly in her little accented speech. "You probably think this is a waste of time, no? You wear bras all your life, no?" She looked at Lena, thinking. "Except maybe when you were young, maybe you thought you didn't need one, yeah?" Back to measuring. "You probably, two, maybe three times in your life, have a bra that you really thought was good. The rest," she made the motion with her hand, "ehh-ehh. Yeah?" Measure. "You just wear them. No?" That's because those few were the only ones you ever had that almost were right. By accident, by luck, you pick one or two your whole life that fit right and look right on you. A bra for you, for your breast, your shape." She stopped measuring, went to the boxes, took some samples out, fabric cups, straps. She came to Lena, cups in the palm of her hands, and motioned at her breasts. "OK? Yeah?" Lena understood, nodded, and the woman nodded back, starting her talk again. "When you get these from me, you'll be wondering what you were doing the rest of your life, dear." She held the cups up onto Lena's chest, pressing her boobs in. She shook her head, switched for a different set from the box, and did it again. Nodding, she went to another box, extracting scraps of material.

"You see when you try this on, you see what I mean. This one won't be just right, still a little," she made the hand motion again, "but better than what you are used to, you see." She was constructing a bra from parts, she saw. Different sized pieces were being clipped together, then she brought it over, and helped her put it on.

Damn! She was right! Even though it felt like it was put together, it still fit better, pulled less, held her tits better, and was more comfortable than the one she wore in. She stood, faced a mirror, and the woman stood behind her looking over her shoulder. "Yeah? Yeah, OK? You like this, right?" Actually, Lena thought her tits looked great in this bra! The woman grabbed Lena's shoulders, pulling them back, saying, "Stand up straight, you stoop like that, you'll be a hunchback when you get old, you'll have to get a job ringing bells. Like this, here." With her shoulders back her tits stood up, and presented themselves. They seemed better shaped, better supported, and directed properly, not just bunched and held. Lena nodded approvingly.

"I like this a lot. You were right. These make my, uh, breasts," she stumbled over what word to use, "feel better, and look better. And they don't make them stick out in everybody's face. I hate that." She turned to one side, then the other. "This is great," she blurted, excitedly.

The woman was beaming with self-confidence and pride. "You see when you get the real ones, how good" she said reaching for the bra, "this is just for test, for show." She took off the bra, set it aside, and went to a third box, smaller. "You wear this one home today. Not your own, like I make, but better than the one you wear in, OK?" She handed it over, and Lena put it on. It was a ¾ cups, so it showed some cleavage, but she was right again, it was a better fit and presentation than what she'd worn in. She put her shirt back on, buttoned it. "Is good, better, yeah? Not what your own will be like, you'll see, but better, yeah?" She reached up and unbuttoned the top of Lena's shirt, exposing the top of her cleavage. "Is like this. Now you look good, not exposed. A little cleavage is sexy, yeah? But before, didn't look right for you, yeah?

Lena looked in the mirror, and she was right. She didn't look trampy with some cleavage showing. She looked, well, sexy. Cool! She smiled at the woman and thanked her, and asked her how much the bra cost. As they went back out to see John the woman said it was free, and then showed her off to John.

She felt suddenly like she was on display, and John was gazing at her chest like he'd never seen it before. She didn't know if that was good or bad. Good, but what if everyone stared?

"Very nice. It looks as good as you said it would." He grinned at Lena, then at the woman. "And this is not the good one?"

"No, no, this is for your wife to wear today, to keep. I make the good ones. Probably a week for all of them, I could have a few ready in two days."

"That will be perfect. I'll come by in two days, pick up the first ones, and you call me when the rest are done. I'll take the order we discussed. Can you get me one each in two days?"

"Sure, sure thing. One each, very good." She escorted them to the door. "I see you in two days, yeah?" They said thank you's and good-bye's, and left.

In the car, he asked as they pulled out, "So, what do you think?" He was still glancing at her, like he'd never seen her tits before. She didn't have to fake a Slave answer.

"I really like it. She said the real ones would be even better. But they support my tits better, and make them look sexy, not just out there. Not in-your-face." She paused. "How many did you get?"

"In full cup, two white, two black, one red, one purple. In three quarters, the same, but two red. In half cup, only one white, two each of the rest."

"I don't wear half cups, John," she said.

"Yet," he corrected. "After the first order she'll make some strapless, other specials ones." He glanced at her, smirking.

"Thank you, John. This is very nice. I can't believe you."

They chatted as they traveled between stores. As the day continued, the chat became more and more about the clothing he had selected. In some cases he made her wear something new to the next stop. After the bra they visited a hosiery store, where they purchased some fine, elegant stockings, a few dignified but sexy garter belts, and some thigh-high stockings that did not require garter belts.

John: "No more unsexy pantyhose for you, Lena."

Lena: "I like the way the seam accentuates my leg, and the elegant feel of the fabric. And I never thought that fishnet could look so proper."

At the Mall, they visited Victoria's Secret (of course), where they selected a few sexy pair of stockings, and a variety of thongs, strings, boy shorts and other sexy, revealing underwear. All in cotton of course. When the left, they stopped by a rest room; John told her to put on a thong and pair of thigh highs.

John: "You should feel sexy under your clothes, and look sexy when you undress."

Lena: "I think my ass looks better in these pants with the thong. I always thought the string would bother me, but being aware of it kind of titillates me. And the stockings are so elegant. It's a shame I'm wearing pants."

In the next several stops they purchased some sexy skirts, dresses, and tops. The skirts were tighter than she would have selected, but she had to admit that, while revealing, they were not obscene or ill-fitting. Some were short, one short enough to show the tops of her stockings. They included some denim and leather. Most of the tops buttoned, some were pullover.

When trying them on, John got her to leave more buttons open than she normally would. "You want my tits hanging out so everyone can see them?" she asked.

"ARE they hanging out?" he countered, and of course they were not.

"You want men staring at me?"

He smiled. "I am staring at you. What other men do is not my concern." The tops were all stylish, colorful, and made her feel very pretty. The pullovers were a little tight, and some were a little low. She thought maybe her bra would show.

"Not in a half cup," he reminded her.

"I'll look like a slut."

"Do mean trashy? Or sexy?"

"I mean slutty. Like a slut."

"You can be my slut, but I think you mean the type of woman who fucks everyone. You only fuck me. You do it vigorously, and with great enthusiasm. You are a woman confident in her sexual appetite and in her sensuality." She felt her thong getting a little warm. "And you can allow yourself to dress as a beautiful, attractive, confident sensual woman."

She was speechless, then managed a smile. "That was very nice. You sure can sweet-talk."

The store allowed her to wear a medium-length denim skirt and light-colored blouse out. She looked and felt -- different. She felt herself standing more erect, smiling, happy with herself.

The visited a shoe store next; she had to struggle sometimes to keep her knees together.

But she was curiously aroused by the idea that someone might see up her skirt. Why did she feel like that?

They purchased heels of varying heights, several different colors, some 'fuck-me' pumps, and two pair of exquisite and dramatic heeled boots. She wore a two-inch heel out.

"So," John asked as they reached the car, "you're wearing heels, thigh-high stockings, a thong, a skirt, new bra and a low-buttoned top." He stepped back from her, admiring all of her. She blushed like a schoolgirl. "You look great. How do you feel?"

"Well," she struggled, breathed deeply, and blurted, "I feel hot! I thought I'd feel like, y'know, whorish and slutty, but it's all class, all elegance, and it looks so good on me!" She spun for him, showing off. "My legs look great, my ass looks great. Doesn't my ass look great?"

"It's to die for, actually."

"And my chest looks noticeable without being obvious. The top makes me look relaxed, comfortable and completely at ease." She paused, looked at him, and put on her fake Austin Powers voice: "O-ooh, ahm dead sexy." She grinned, and he opened the door for her; she climbed in, laughing lightly. She sat in the seat sideways, facing him. "But I gotta tell you, I was getting' a little steamy in the shoe store, when I thought someone might look up my skirt." She quick opened her legs, and closed them again, catching his eye.

He grinned, and pushed her knees into the leg area. "That's because a sexy peek is a million times hotter than a flash." He closed the door and walked around, got it.

"What do you mean?" she asked as they pulled away.

"What, the flash or the peek thing? Simple. A sexy woman stands in front of you in a skirt. She lifts the skirt, holds it up, and she's all 'hey, look at my pussy, look at my pussy', you know, moving around, all sexual. Sure, I look. Everyone looks. Hell, I stare. But when she puts the dress down, I'm done."

"The same woman is sitting on a park bench, reading a book. I'm on a nearby bench. When I glance over she is moving her leg and I get a peek up her dress, see her thigh. Now I'm hooked. I keep glancing over, trying to keep her from seeing me look, hoping to see more. Maybe she moves a few more times, I see up her dress, I see some panties. Very subtle, fast. But maybe slow enough to not be accidental, you know. This is more of a seduction. She knows I'm looking, she made me look. And she's getting off on getting me aroused. If it's really hot, she's got a tiny strip of panties, or nothing. And she builds up to it, let's me MAYBE see something. All the time she pretends that she doesn't know I'm looking, that she doesn't know anything is showing. Y'see?"

"Because it's a little bit, a hint, a suggestion, it's sexier."

"Right! It's a seduction, like I said. Then maybe she gets up walks away, but on the way she lets me know she knew all along, and it was all on purpose."

"It's a seduction."

"Sure. Very sexy." He paused, pretending to be concentrating on driving. "Don't you ever see me watching you undress at home?"

"God, yes. Your eyes burn holes in me, just about."

"Almost the same thing. I'm looking to see if I can see something."

She thought about him watching her dress, knowing all the time he'd seen her naked. But he still watched. He liked to watch her, in case he might see something she wasn't planning to show. She smiled. She liked that. She liked being the woman he looked at, the woman seducing him. She wanted to seduce him on purpose.

"Can you show me how to do that?" she asked.

"What?"

"The peek. The little accident-on-purpose flash. Can you show me, teach me how to do it, so I can tease you? Turn you on?"

"You want me to show you how it works?"

"I want you to show me how I can make it work on you."

"Yeah, OK, I can do that. I'd love to." He was grinning.

They made one more stop, at another adult shop, this one with a large selection of lingerie. They picked a varied selection of lace, satin, red, black, purple, loose and tight. Some of them he suggested might be good for wearing under clothes. Once she stepped away from him in the store, and when she knew he was looking, lifted the back of her skirt a little, showing the bottom of one cheek, right there in the store.

He came over and kissed her. "Yeah," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Just like that."

They selected a few panties, some crotchless; all erotic, and headed for home.

On the way home he explained that from time to time he would be telling her what to wear. "You will continue to purchase items on your own," he said, "and many of the things you wear most of the time need not change at all. You won't have to donate all your old clothes to the poor. But when we are out together, you will wear something in your new style; more alluring and sexy. Most of the time I will allow you to make the choice, unless I feel it is a special occasion. Then I will tell you what to wear." He smiled. "Other times I will tell you only what style to wear, or what bra and panties."

"As you recall," he continued, "the bra you are wearing is just about the only one you own, until we get your new ones. You have plenty of new panties, and we've already thrown away all your old ones. And, from time to time, we'll go through your stuff, and anything that's a little worn or shabby will be discarded. It'll be your responsibility to replace them."

"Clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." He pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. "Free."