Zippers

PART 16

 

'Let's have a look then, stand up straight.'

I pulled the hem-line down and stood up as straight as I could. I was wearing a tight, pink and white, tie-dye patterned dress. Its short skirt stretched round my ass but very little more. It ran up to a thick band around my throat which joined two larger bands, one on either side, running up from the sides of my waist, outside and around each of my breasts. It zipped at the back which pulled it tightly around me. The effect of the straps at the sides of my breasts was to pull them together and upwards, creating a huge cleavage. My mauled, battered orbs bulged out from it and the compression was nauseatingly painful, it was still less than a week since my implants had been installed.

'I preferred the size down you know, she really spilled out of that one'

That one had been ridiculously tight everywhere, I thought that it might tear when we fastened it and that was without me moving in it. My breasts had screamed with dull agony in it.

'Yes, but she can 'grow into' this one. And this one actually fits her round the ass'

They both giggled.

It was like they were little girls playing at dressing their dollies like whores; only I was the doll. I was hating every single second of this shopping trip as I was coldly and precisely worked down the shopping list that I had made for myself. In the process, they were going out of their way to demean and shame me as much as they possibly could. I had to keep counting to ten and telling myself to behave. They were making my whole whore idea come true; it felt like I was having a living nightmare.

'That's definitely a keeper, now try this one'

As I unzipped my cheap Lycra number, Trisha handed me another dress, this time a shocking pink-purple colour.

As I held it up, I despaired. Trisha grinned and gestured enthusiastically that I put it on.

This one just slipped over my head and pulled down. There was a wide halter-neck band, which was elasticated at the back, but there was no zip. The dress stretched around me, it had dozens of centimetre wide, fibrous, elastic bands spaced out along each side, up its entire length. The effect was of a dress that had a front half and a back half connected by numerous strips of pink elastic. I was essentially exposed for three inches up each side. As I pulled it down so that the miserly hem rested at the very tops of my legs and my breasts billowed out of the cups, they both giggled again. The loud pink material at the front and back was ruched. It formed a line running up my midline with the fabric folded to create a slight U shape; bowing gently downwards on either side. At the back I could see that this accentuated my ass cheeks, while at the front it served to exaggerate my breasts. The elastic on each side and around my neck ensured that the material was skin tight. With my face and hair the way they were, there was only one possible interpretation of the look.

'How do you like this one darling?’ Vivienne asked.

I looked at myself in the mirror and did a little twirl on my sandals. I wanted to cry.

'It makes me look like a prostitute Mistress', I said sullenly, my head hanging, 'I really hate this one.'

'Ooooo, a potential favourite there then', Vivienne cooed, immediately sensing my true feelings.

She threw it on the same pile as the previous dress and we continued.

 

We had started, earlier, by walking around the shop, specifically looking for things that met the descriptions that I had given during my debriefing. These had now become our 'objectives' but we were open-minded too. I had to tell them if there was anything that made me feel strongly; in fact it was me that had picked out every single dress that we were now trialling, including the pink monstrosity I had just removed. The frustration in being the architect of my own ignominy was enormous. 

I had to stop myself stamping my feet in a desperate temper tantrum as we continued with a crass, cheap looking, black velvet number that had gold fastenings on the side. This one had only one shoulder strap and also exposed my sides in the way I found so awful; but whereas the pink dress had had many elastic bands, this dress had no elastic, it zipped at the back and had only six gold bands fastening it on either side. The effect was to create much longer, wider ellipses of flesh running up each side. The tacky gold look of the fastenings; the give-away loose threads betraying its sweat-shop assembly; and the fact that it was so horrible that no woman in her right mind would wear such a thing, all justified its £3 clearance price tag.

'Now that's a real party number don't you think?'

The trailer-trash in the mirror meekly nodded her head; her lower lip hanging sullenly.

'Touch up your lipstick, slut', Trisha hissed.

 

As I went to the counter I had eight dresses, a selection of miniskirts and a number of tops, all of them dire. Trisha had picked out some jackets for me as well, two blue, one in tight stonewashed denim, the other in close fitting, dark blue leather. I also had short, tight, faux leather jackets; one in white, one in pink; with buttons that fastened around the collars. To enable me to break the fashion ‘no-no’ of combining matching leather, we had picked out the two corresponding tight leather miniskirts

The attendant looked up, made some pithy remark about me being their ‘shopper of the year’, and gave me the bill. I met this with a brooding glare. Given that I had bought half the store, it actually really was a bargain; although we must have taken all their least desirable stock off them. In spite of the ‘bargain’ it was obvious, as Trisha and Vivienne strolled out of the shop, that I would be paying for 'my new wardrobe'.

After storing the numerous bags in Vivienne's car, we moved on. As we walked through the array of pet stores, food shops and cheap household stalls in the market, I worried about where we would be going next.

'Now I'm sure it's somewhere.......Ah, yes', said Trisha and we all made a bee-line after her. On the edge of the market place, in one of the buildings, there was a 'jewellery' store. This was about as low-end as it was possible to get. It struck me immediately that in such an insecure shop most of the 'gold' wasn't even locked in cabinets. There were a few items on the back wall intermingled with large signs boasting '24 carat' or the bluff, 'real gold'. I had to close my eyes in despair; I knew it was a matter of time before I would be wearing something from here.

Vivienne was right about every girl having her own specific buttons and I cold feel the fingers hovering over mine. As I tottered past a mirror and caught another glimpse of my Barbie-doll face, freshly glossed lips and my glamour-girl hair, my humiliation peaked further.

'Oh, now this is just perfect for you isn't it Anita', Trisha said looking around, beaming. She lifted up a large pair of hideous triangular, gold-looking earrings.

'Please no', I whispered to her. I knew it was futile but some increasingly small part of me still tried to object.

She scowled and put her mouth close to my ear

'I don't like your attitude young lady. Not one bit. And your Mistress has been so good to you as well', she snarled. She stood up straight and composed herself. She thought for a second, then the corners of her mouth curled upwards and her eyes narrowed.

'Just for that, you will go over of your own accord, and get your ears pierced. I'm thinking of a number, and if I don't see at least that many studs in each ear, then you will really be in for it. I mean that, I'm not fucking around girl, what you've had up until now will seem like a fairy story. You can decide how many earrings you will wear from now on but you better get it right'

'NO!’ my mind screamed, 'don't make me do that!'

I shivered and looked up at her. I was small, miserable and too vainly sorry too late. My eyes pleaded with her to relent, but also to not tell my Mistress.

Vivienne had wandered to another part of the store, missing our exchange. She held up a different pair of vile earrings, large and horseshoe shaped.

'Oh, now aren't these just darling!’ she said, sickly sweet.

Trisha looked at me.

'Do it now and then pick all the right earrings. If I'm happy with you, this can stay our little secret. If not, then you'll be joining that other little cunt in a punishment slot tonight and I’ll double it for both of you. Now do it, or I’ll tell Mistress'

'Thank you Mistress!’ I had gushed; I can remember an irrational relief, almost an elation from the slight mercy of her not telling Vivienne. I really didn’t want to displease Vivienne while she was so happy, I sensed that it would be especially bad.

I approached the sales woman with a torrent of clashing emotions. She was in her mid-fifties, her sun-wrinkled, smoke-haggard skin was made up with the subtlety of a drag queen or a pantomime dame. I noticed that she had three rings in each of her ears, the front hoop had another thick, heart shaped loop dangling from it; they were perhaps the worst earrings I had ever seen. My new fate hit me and I balked. Could things get any worse today?

I hesitated in front of her, trying to not burst into tears. What to say? Not getting enough piercings was just not an option; but the real torture came from knowing that I could actually ask for too many. Given my particular revulsion to this, I could be making an evil rod for my own back; I didn't want any more rings in my ears than were absolutely necessary.

After a second’s further thought, the petrified look on Lisa's face at the front of my mind, I said

'I'd to get my ears pierced please'