Keep you in Lace II: Drown you in Diamonds
By Charlotte Mistry
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Charlotte Mistry
Discover other titles by Charlotte Mistry at http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/charlottemistry
Cover stock source by Dmitry Stock and Xn3ctz, used under Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
“This one?” Mary holds a dress up to the mirror. It’s pale green and close fitting. She looks back at Nick with a critical eye. “No, too wide in the hips.”
She goes through the pile again and comes up with a pink one.
“Hmm, no, this material is awful. Who made this?” It joins the pile of discards.
To anyone else, Nick might look like the harried boyfriend dragged along to haul bags and boxes on a shopping expedition. Nick knows better. Each dress Mary holds up and discards sends a thrill through his belly, a flicker of anticipation and delicious embarrassment; those dresses aren’t for Mary. They’re for him.
Mary looks at Nick from beneath he long, dark eyelashes as she considers the relative merits of navy-blue silk versus ruffles of cream lace. He can’t decide, himself, and is glad he doesn’t have to. If it were up to him he’d walk out with half the store’s inventory. Well, that’s not quite true- without Mary by his side, he’d never have been brave enough to walk in in the first place.
It hasn’t been so very long since Mary had discovered his little, ill-kept secret, but she’s taken full advantage of it. From forcing him into wearing frilly satin panties to work to buying him his very own pair of precarious black high heels- size thirteen- he’s always on the edge of wondering what delicious torment she’ll come up with next.
He’d gotten his answer earlier that day. She’d swept into the living room where he was fixing a cracked baseboard, and imperious as a queen had announced that they were going to go to dinner.
Nick hadn’t guessed why they needed to go shopping beforehand until she’d started holding up dresses to his chest, and sifting through the masses of them to find one in just his size.
Finally, Mary picks up a long gown. It’s high-necked and long-sleeved, with a slit up the side. It’s a dark red that’s just this side of orange. Nick thinks that it’s high-cut enough to let him fake cleavage. The way it clings at the waist and frills out into a loose bell at the bottom will give him the illusion of hips.
Mary nods, curt and sure, and she holds it out to him. “Put it on.”
“Here?”
Mary jerks her head at the back of the store. “The changing room.”
Nick takes the dress. He slinks back into the fitting room stalls, conscious of curious eyes on him, dress in hand and cheeks flaming. He resolutely does not make eye contact with the attendants. When he’s in his little booth he strips off his jeans and t-shirt to reveal a lacy teal thong framing his cock in a neat little package.
The feel of it, plus the silk whisper of the dress make him whimper and try desperately not to get hard. It would be too awkward to take care of, here.
He slips the dress over his head. It falls down over his body in a graceful sweep and Nick arranges it across his hips. It’s an awkward stretch to zip up the back one-handed, but he manages. The soft fabric caresses his skin.
Nick looks in the mirror to find that someone else’s body has taken the place of his own. Instead of his narrow hips and broad shoulders, he sees the illusion of an hourglass figure. The dress softens the line of his shoulders and emphasizes the nonexistent swell of his hips into a generous curve.
He turns sideways to admire himself. The dress looks good. It clings to the curve of his ass, showing off the indent of his thong. Again he has to bite his lip and think desperately. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t-
A knock comes at the door. It startles him out of it. “Y- yes?”
“It’s Mary,” Mary sing-songs, “are you having trouble in there?”
He swallows. “Nope. No, it’s uh, it’s all fitting just fine.”
“Let me see you.”
Nick freezes. This isn’t the house, this is in public. “Mary?”
“I said come out and let me see.” There’s a tone of command in that voice, and Nick is helpless to do anything but obey. Face flaming with embarrassment, he steps out of the dressing room. There are people looking at him, murmuring.
He knows what he looks like. Flat-chested, with rough beard stubble and close-cropped hair, standing there in a silky dress. He stares at the floor.
“Mm, very nice. My pretty boy,” Mary says contemplatively, and pats his cheek. “Now do a little turn.”
Nick does an abortive little spin. The dress flares fetchingly around his legs, showing off a flash of thigh. It clings to his skin.
He forgets the people looking on, for a moment. It’s just him, Mary, and the satin whisper of the soft fabric sliding against his skin. He smiles a little, and so does Mary.
They buy the dress. While he’s waiting for the cashier to box it up, Mary wanders the spaces between racks of clothing and inspects shelves of gaudy jewelry. She keeps picking bits up and discarding them piece by piece, just as she’d done with the dresses. Nick wonders what she’s looking for.
They drive home, but a half-hour later Mary’s disappeared to somewhere else. Nick wonders a little about where she’s gone, but he’s learned that sometimes it’s better not to ask too many questions. In the meantime he occupies himself wasting time on the Internet and wondering just what it is that Mary’s got planned.
When she finally comes home, it’s with a smile on her face and a small package in hand. Nick frowns at it, but she goes and puts it away without opening it. Either way it’s getting on for evening, and his stomach flutters in nervous anticipation of what’s to come.
“Come here,” Mary beckons, and he goes.
She takes off her day clothes first, jeans and tight t-shirt stripped from her with a slow theatricality. When she’s naked, she smiles and looks him up and down. He’s the one who feels vulnerable. His hands move to his own shirt buttons, but Mary knocks them away.
“Arms out.”
He complies.
She takes her time in undressing him piece by piece. Not quite sensual, but not businesslike, either. Her fingertips trail across his skin and he shivers. When he stands naked in front of her she walks around him, inspecting him like a horse at auction.
“Hm,” says Mary, “I suppose you’re passable.” She runs a hand across his belly and he feels the muscles tighten as she passes. He can feel the rush of blood in his veins as his cock starts to harden, trained like a dog to react to Mary’s presence. She slaps at his balls lightly. Nick yelps, a bolt of pain shooting through him. “Naughty boy. That’ll ruin the line of the dress.”