Page 19 of Bought

Ethan glides around me, does the zipper up with a practiced touch.

“Yes,” he says, looking me up and down. “Very nice.”

The insides of the doors are mirrored, so I can see my reflection on both sides, repeated to infinity. This dress has transformed me. My normal clothes are comfortable, but they don’t do anything for my figure. This dress takes every curve and accentuates it. My ass is round in the rear, my hips have a feminine, sensual sway. My waist looks smaller than I thought it was, and my breasts look bigger.

“This isn’t a dress,” I mumble to myself. “This is a magic trick.”

“No trickery here,” Ethan chuckles softly. “This is how you look, Casey. This is how beautiful you are.”

I don’t feel beautiful, but the woman in the mirror is undoubtedly attractive. She’s also me. This is weird. It’s nice, but it feels very strange to see myself as one of the women who can easily grace Ethan’s world.

I have to be careful not to be sucked into this. These fine clothes, this dress that makes my ass look incredible—they’re all a trap. As long as Ethan has to whip me into submission, it’s not really submission. But if he can get what he wants by bribing me with clothes, then I’m selling myself out and might as well have taken his offer of employment in the first place. I have to keep resisting.

“Here,” he says, producing a pair of shoes. They’re red too. They match the dress, and they have a heel that isn’t astoundingly high, but I tend to keep my heels on the ground, so it’s high enough.

“Those aren’t a pair of shoes,” I snort. “Those are foot torture devices. Ankle breakers. You want me in these clothes so I can’t run away as fast.”

“Mhm,” he smirks, his eyes gleaming with humor. “Female fashion is all a patriarchal attempt to make you easier to catch.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. I don’t believe it either. The second I slide the shoes on, out of curiosity more than anything, my ass is lifted, my legs look longer, and I seem taller. Another layer to the illusion. Another lie.

“You look amazing,” he compliments me.

“Thanks.”

I do look good, but that’s because I haven’t tried to take a step yet. I tried heels out when I was a teenager. Once. That didn’t go so well then, and I have a feeling it’s not going to go so well now.

“Come over here.”

He extends a hand to me. I take unsure, wobbling steps like Bambi in his wake. I don’t care what they say about these shoes; on my feet, in this room, I might as well be wearing a couple of shackles on my ankles. I’m not going anywhere in these, and my feet already ache at the strange weight distribution.

“You’ll get used to them,” he says when I shoot him a look.

I won’t get used to them, because I’m not going to let him turn me into whatever this is. My body is displayed in this dress in a way I don’t feel completely comfortable with. Yes, I look good, but at what cost? I can barely move. There are no pockets to hold my phone, or push my hands into when I get nervous. This dress exposes me, puts me on display. Of course he likes how I look in it. I’m basically naked.

His hand runs up behind my leg, finds the inside of my thigh. My bare pussy is exposed just a couple of inches above the hem of the dress. He doesn’t just have easy access, he has me unable to move as his fingertips brush the soft lips of my sex in a casual caress.

“You look incredible, Casey,” he murmurs in my ear. “And you feel it too, I can tell.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

“Yes, I do,” he says. “It’s written on your face. You give everything away, girl. You’re standing taller.”

“That’s the heels.”

“No, it isn’t,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over my pussy again. “It’s you, starting to feel what you are. You’re not just a programmer, Casey. You’re a woman. And you have a woman’s needs.”

“I didn’t know women needed to be wrapped in silk and put on stilts,” I bite back sarcastically. “You should go to deprived countries and hand these things out.”

His palm meets my ass sharply. “Hierarchy of needs,” he lectures as my butt stings. Of course the dress offers close to no protection whatsoever from his hand. I might as well be wearing a single layer of plastic wrap. “You hide from what you are, Casey. You don’t know what you’re capable of.”

“Like taking it in the ass?”

He’s chuckling as he spanks me again, one of his hands steadying me so I don’t fall off the heels, the other making my ass burn with punitive fire.

“That’s part of it,” he says, his hand smoothing over my soon to be very sore cheeks. “Fucking your ass feels amazing for me, and it teaches you a valuable lesson.”

“What is that?”

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